Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Barry awoke with a start.

In and of itself, that wasn’t unusual. After all, he rarely slept soundly and barely slept at all.

But it was still out of normalcy for him to wake up with the screaming nightmares of his mother’s death in vivid, fresh detail and to see Bruce’s (not the one that he knew well, but the one that he had come to known briefly) and Kara’s deaths in a variety of manners.

He was still lying horizontally on his bed from where he had collapsed earlier, his phone right there on his stomach where he left it. Picking it up, he clicked the power button. 2:28 PM. Okay, so he had passed out for a good chunk of the day, but it was still September 27^th, which meant he still had two days until the lightning struck—not that it was important to be there, but it still made for an easy landmark date—and one more day before Zod made his appearance.

That all meant that he still had enough time to sneak in a shower before trying to find the Justice League.

Bleary-eyed, Barry stumbled into the shower and cranked it to about as hot he could take it, relishing in the hot water to wash away all the grime of the multiverse. He was pretty sure that he still had residue from continuities that didn’t exist anymore trying to hide out on his body. After a thorough scrub, stepped out, dried off, and got dressed. And by getting dressed, he got dressed about as fancy as Barry Allen could be.

After all, he was off to see a billionaire.

Never in his life had Barry ever seen Wayne Manor in such pristine condition. Even at the end of his original timeline, Bruce had just been in the early stages of renovating the husk of a mansion into the future headquarters of the Justice League. In contrast, the Wayne Manor that Barry saw before him was nothing less than a palace, with neatly trimmed hedges, perfectly cut grass, and pristine marble throughout. It looked like Bruce, at least in this timeline, was perfectly content living in a mansion rather than in a lakehouse.

He paid his taxi fare—which cost him way too much to be comfortable out of his thin wallet—and walked up to the intercom.

“Alright Barry, you’ve got this,” he said out loud to himself. “Don’t worry. They’re old buddies of yours. Right? No, not here, idiot.” He shook his head, smacked once on the side of the head for good measure, and hit the intercom button.

After a few moments, it clicked. “May I help you, sir?” a pristine British voice came through. Alfred, it had to be.

“Uh, hi, yes,” Barry stammered. “I’m—I’m Barry, Barry Allen. I’m here to see Bruce… I mean, Mister Wayne.”

There was a short pause. “Unfortunately,” Alfred replied, sounding like he didn’t think it was that unfortunate, “Master Wayne is currently on a business trip. May I take a message?”

“Well, I mean, erm,” Barry verbally stumbled, “can I still come in? I can talk to you instead. It’s,” he gestured, as if Alfred could see him—though maybe Alfred could since Barry had no idea if there was a camera pointed at him, “really, really important.” He paused. “I swear. Bruce is going to want to hear this.”

Another short pause. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Mister Allen. If that would be all?”

“Please, Alfred,” Barry pleaded. “Look, once you hear me out, nothing’s going to be the same. We all need Bruce to know because he’s frankly like the only one that can figure it all out.” He looked around and leaned in closer to the intercom. “It’s about his night-time stuff.”

“Mister Allen,” Alfred’s clipped tone came through, “you are currently standing on private property. I will ask you to vacate the premises immediately or be considered in trespass, at which point I will alert the authorities. Good day.” The intercom clicked and went dead.

Barry cracked open his wallet and counted out the meager number of one dollar bills he had. It wasn’t enough for the taxi fare back to the bus stop, which meant he was stuck walking back to the stop—a brisk ten-mile journey away—before catching a bus back to town.

And it was actually going to be a walk, considering he didn’t exactly have dress sweaters to spare in his wardrobe.

One long and sweaty walk, a three-hour bumpy bus ride, and a bagel-sandwich stop later for a quick dinner, and Barry found himself walking back to his apartment contemplating the secrets of the universe he now found himself in as the sun made its last dip under the skyline of Central City. A phone call to Thomas Curry had confirmed that Arthur did indeed exist in this timeline, but he wasn’t around and wasn’t easy to get ahold of either. Victor Stone was still just, well, Victor Stone, quarterback extraordinaire, and not a super cool, ass-kicking Cyborg yet. Same look, though, so that was at least comforting to Barry that there would be a familiar face in this world, even if it wasn’t the Victor that knew him. He found nothing on Diana, which was frankly to be expected considering he didn’t remember hearing about her until Superman died.

Oh, and Clark Kent had apparently won a Pulitzer with none other than Lois Lane at the Daily Planet. And he sometimes wrote articles on Superman, a fixture of the Metropolis skies. Some things didn’t change after all. Except for the fact that unlike Victor, Clark looked noticeably different. So, some things did change. And apparently his answering machine at the Daily Planet said he was off covering some expedition in the Arctic, so that was a lot of help to find the guy. He could probably run all day in the Arctic Circle and not find Clark.

Which left Barry back at square one—a square that was suspiciously shaped like a bat and named Bruce Wayne. Except he was getting ghosted by him anyway, so he was basically back to square zero if that existed.

A sudden thought intruded into his mind as he fumbled for his keys. Was Kara in this universe? She didn’t exist in his original timeline, but as it was already quite different than what he had known, all bets were off. Still, even if she did exist, there was no way he was going to be able to get to Russia—or wherever she was in the world, if she was on Earth at all—to get to her. He pushed it out of his mind as he pushed his apartment door open. It was pitch black inside at this point, and he flicked the light switch and paused.

“Barry Allen,” a handsome, if rather young-looking, man said, sitting in his little black-faux-leather recliner. “Bruce Wayne.”

The man had some of the same features that reminded Barry of Bruce—a strong jaw, a slick haircut, and a nice suit. But the similarities ended there. Where his old Bruce had brown eyes, the new one had bright blue ones. The old Bruce usually had a little stubble, while the new one was clean-shaven. The old one had wrinkles and was going on fifty. The new one didn’t look a day over thirty.

Barry raised a finger and pursed his lips, searching for words. Finally, he settled on, “This is going to sound weird, but I don’t think it was entirely, uh, unexpected for you to say that.”

‘Bruce’ furrowed his brow slightly, almost imperceptibly were it not for Barry’s relative familiarity with the past Bruce.

“I was told you had something important to tell me," Bruce continued. "Something that concerned… activities of a nocturnal nature.”

The last half of Bruce’s statement made the hairs on Barry’s neck stand up straight. Yeah, this Bruce Wayne was still, most definitely, one hundred percent the Batman.

“Yes,” Barry emphatically nodded, “if you’re saying what I think you’re saying. And what I think you’re sa—”

A hot-white pain split through Barry’s skull like he had just taken Steppenwolf’s axe to the head, and he crumpled to the ground in agony as he yelled. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bruce run over to him, but his vision went black before he could think of anything else.

"Absolute best of the best."

"Don't be afraid, Barry. The light keeps the dark away."

"Barry, where are you? It's almost synchronized!"

"On the count of second-degree murder, I sentence you to life in prison without parole."

"Not every problem has a solution. Sometimes, you just have to let go."

"Son, I'm proud of you."

"We are a people of hope, not war."

"And our valedictorian of 2011, Barry Allen!"

"You already did. You already did."

"Hey, you're Barry, right? I'm Iris. Iris West."

"I am everything you're not!"

For the second time in a single day, if it was still the same day, Barry woke up with a start. His eyes dotted around, trying to take in as much of his surroundings as they could in the relative darkness. He couldn’t make anything out, though what he did feel was a relative sense of bliss as he sunk into the soft pillow and firm mattress under him and the silk sheets on top of him enveloped him in warmth.

And then the pain returned, though far less than it had been before. This time, he just squeezed his eyes shut like he was dealing with a particularly aggressive migraine. The pain flowed as knowledge filled in the gaps of a lifetime. Not all of it, but pieces. A birthday cake there, a toy he was particularly fond of there. Images of a mother and father he didn’t recognize but that he knew in his heart and mind were his parents. A red-haired woman that he nervously asked out on a date that was Iris but looked nothing like Iris but that he knew was still Iris somehow. It was like the life of the Barry he had become embedded itself into his mind, intertwining with the memories that had already been there.

Two sets of memories. Two lives. One Barry Allen.

So, his head hurt. Because as fast as he could run, Barry still only had one brain (and arguably so at that).

“Holy shit,” he yelled out loud, filtering through the new set of memories. It wasn’t complete and gaps persisted, but the bulk of his life and, frankly, the important things had made their way over.

Footsteps sounded out on the carpet from outside, and within a few moments, a gentle knock on the door.

“Master Allen, I am coming in,” a distinctly accented tone spoke through the door. After a few moments, it clicked open, and a gray-haired man walked in. In one hand, he carried a tray of breakfast foods like a waiter, and tucked underneath the other was a folded set of clothing. The tray was placed on Barry’s bedside table, the clothes on a nearby dresser, and Alfred strode over to the curtains and pulled them apart with little flourish.

“My name is Alfred Pennyworth,” Alfred said, turning to Barry. “I am Master Wayne’s butler and handle all of the necessary duties here at the estate.”

“Estate?” Barry groaned, one hand covering his eyes from the blinding light of the early morning sun. Clearly, it was not the same day. “Wait, am I at the Manor?”

“Indeed,” Alfred replied, his clipped tones radiating a distinct and somewhat cold vibe. This Alfred certainly looked harsher than the one that Barry had known—shorter, stockier, and generally a little less friendly on the face. The Alfred Barry had known was prone to joke and seemed like a techy old uncle. This one looked like he could rip Barry’s arms out if he got too annoyed.

“Where… where’s Bruce?”

Alfred paused on his way out of the room. “Master Wayne is in the lounge. I suggest that you wash up, eat up, and join him when you are ready.” With that, Alfred closed the door behind him, and his footsteps retreated down the hall.

Barry slid his legs off the bed and groaned again, one hand going to the side of his right temple. The only thing he could hope for at this point was that the migraine would eventually subside. Gingerly, he limped over to the en-suite bathroom and pushed the door open. Inside, he was greeted with a vast bathroom that, in all honesty, likely dwarfed the square footage of his entire apartment in Central City.

“Yeah, Barry, he’s a billionaire,” Barry muttered to himself before making his way to the sink. The cold water shot out of the faucet after he twisted the knob, and he splashed a copious amount on his face and winced slightly as some of it splashed onto his bare chest. He blindly grabbed for one of the nearby towels stacked on the countertop to dry himself off and paused as he stared at his chest. Or more specifically, down his chest at his abdomen where a faint but distinct six-pack looked back.

“Huh, that wasn’t there before.”

Barry dried his chest off and patted down his face before looking up at the mirror. And froze again for the second time in twenty-four hours. He stared into his face, leaning closer to the mirror with each passing second until he could nearly kiss his own reflection. And stared. Blue eyes—not brown—stared back. His jaw was slightly broader than he remembered it being, his cheeks fuller than they had been. Finally, he rifled through his hair with a hand, rubbing the hairs back and forth to make sure it wasn’t a wig and a badly constructed prank.

“Why the shit am I blond?” Barry yelled. The blond guy in the reflection yelled it back.

It took a solid ten minutes for Barry to examine himself in the mirror, another twenty to shower—he had to take full advantage of Wayne Manor’s fantastic water pressure—and another ten to freshen up and get dressed. By the time that he rounded the main staircase down to the foyer, it had been nearly an hour since Alfred had visited his room. He just hoped that Bruce was still waiting for him. And he was also still not over his new look, but that was going to have to wait.

He entered what looked to be a comfortable looking library through open double wooden doors. Two walls opposite each other were filled with books with the third home to three sets of massive windows. In the middle of the space was a large leather sofa facing the window and a singular leather recliner facing the door. Said leather recliner contained the billionaire that Barry was looking for.

“Ah, Barry,” Bruce said warmly, putting down his book on a nearby table and standing up with a brilliant smile. He reached out a hand as he walked over, and Barry couldn’t help but take it in a handshake. It was almost magnetic. “I hope you’re finding the Manor comfortable. I told Alfred to be on his best behavior.”

Barry noticed that Bruce’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I’ve been okay, yeah, you know,” Barry nodded, trying to match the faux smile with one of his own and miserably failing. “You’ve got, uh, nice comforters.”

Bruce flashed that award-winning smile again. “Alfred picks the best.” He gestured at the sofa. “Come, sit. Perhaps something to drink? It’s a bit early, but I’m sure we can make an exception.”

For his part, Barry just sat down on the sofa like a schoolboy about to be lectured. He wasn’t quite sure if he preferred the slightly more threatening Bruce from the night before or the one in front of him. Perhaps if he prayed hard enough, he could get the brooding Bruce he remembered from his past world back.

“I’m… okay,” Barry mumbled. He tried smiling again, but felt it come out more as a grimace. “I don’t drink.”

Bruce nodded slightly and took a seat in his recliner, crossing his legs as he examined Barry.

“So, Barry, what was it that you wanted to talk about last night?”

Barry thought for a moment, then just spoke. “Look, I’m just going to be straight with you. I know you’re the Batman.”

Bruce’s smile didn’t change.

“And you’re going to think I’m crazy, but I—I’m not even supposed to be here. I’m from a completely different world, and I can really fast. I did something stupid that I tried to fix, but now I’m here, so it didn’t work…” Barry trailed off as he continued to look at Bruce, whose expression didn’t change. A few moments of silence between them passed before Barry couldn’t handle it anymore.

“Okay, clearly you know something I don’t.”

Finally, Bruce leaned forward, dropping the smile. He stood up.

“Not exactly,” Bruce said. “Follow me.”

Barry stood up immediately, but all Bruce did was walk over to one of the bookshelves and pulled a book. Blackout curtains automatically began to lower themselves down the windows, and the heavy wooden doors to the lounge swung closed and locked. After a solid moment of silence, the bookshelf itself clicked and descended into the floor, revealing an elevator that descended into the depths of the mansion.

After a moment of reverie, Barry noticed Bruce looking at him.

“Something tells me you already know what’s down there,” Bruce said. “So, let’s go.” He stepped into the elevator and Barry followed. A button push later, and they were descending at a brisk pace. Soon, the rock of the elevator shaft turned into open air, and Barry could see the grand scale of the Batcave before him. It was differently laid out from either of the Batcaves he had seen before, but essential elements remained the same—running water, stalactites, a central platform with what could only the Batmobile, occasional bats flying around.

It was the lair of the Batman.

The elevator came to a stop and Bruce pushed the metal grate open. The path led to a set of stairs that climbed toward what looked to be a computing hub. Huge displays with various graphs and images dominated the space, and the chair that sat in front of the computer console was occupied by someone who was typing away.

“Alfred?” Bruce called out. The typing stopped.

“I’m a little hurt,” a distinctly feminine voice spoke out. The chair swung around to reveal a beautiful woman with chin-length dark hair and green eyes sitting in it, her legs crossed and a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “Unless you think Alfred is sexy.”

“Selina,” Bruce smiled, pulling her in for a kiss. “I thought you were still in bed.”

“I woke up and didn’t see you there. Decided to prep for the docks tonight—Maroni’s got a lot more men than I originally thought.” She looked past Bruce’s shoulder at Barry. “And is this the boytoy you brought home last night?” She slipped out of Bruce’s embrace and slid a hand onto Barry’s shoulder. “You must be Barry. I’m Selina.”

“H—hi, Barry” Barry stuttered as he tried to smile for a third time. “I’m Selina.” He frowned. “Wait.”

Selina laughed, a light sound that filled the air. “You are a cutie, aren’t you.” She rubbed Barry’s cheek and slipped right past him in one smooth motion. “And Bruce, I’ll see you later.”

Barry turned to see Selina walk—or perhaps strut, more accurately—away, her hips swaying with each step. He snapped his head back at Bruce, eyes wide.

“I, uh, I didn’t mean to…” he trailed off.

Bruce snorted. “That’s Selina. You’ll get used to it.” He walked forward and took the seat that Selina had just been in. A few taps of the keyboard later and the display repopulated with various pop-ups. “I took the liberty of running some tests on your blood last night.”

“I’m sorry, you did what?” Barry exclaimed, walking forward to the chair. “That’s—”

“They corroborate what you’ve told me so far,” Bruce continued. “Your blood is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.” He turned slightly to look at Barry. “And I’ve seen a lot. Either you’re a metahuman, or you’re not a human at all.”

“Wait,” Barry responded, “so you, you know about aliens and,” he gestured, “all that stuff?”

Bruce spun around fully, his hands clasped together as he leaned back into the chair. “Barry, what do you think Superman is?”

“A Kryptonian,” Barry immediately replied.

“I was going to say an alien, but thanks. Now I know what species of alien Clark is.”

“Hold up, you know that Superman is Clark Kent?”

Bruce smirked, clearly pleased with knowing more than Barry did on the matter. “We’ve worked together before. Let’s just say that I helped him with a problem he had, and he did the same for me.”

Barry ran a hand through his hair—his very blond hair that didn’t quite feel like his old head of hair. “So, I guess the Justice League is together and everything?”

The smirk promptly disappeared and was replaced with a frown. “Justice League?”

“Oh, heh,” Barry grinned. “I guess you’re not ready for that one yet.”

Bruce eyed Barry critically before turning back to his computer. “The reason that I decided to loop you in like this is because your story checks out and your timing is… fortuitous, I hope.” The display changed to an infographic of Barry himself, complete with every piece of important information that Barry didn’t think Bruce should’ve had access to in the first place. “Barry Allen. Born 1992. Mother murdered under mysterious circumstances when you were thirteen, and your father was convicted of second-degree murder for it. Life sentence, Iron Heights Penitentiary.”

“He didn’t do it,” Barry said, almost reflexively.

Bruce stopped for a moment. For a second, Barry thought he was going to spin around again to face him, but instead Bruce continued to speak. “I understand. Dipped in and out of foster homes for the next few years until you graduated high school. Top marks. Central City University. You’re on track to graduate next semester, a year early and summa cum laude if you keep your course work up. Double major in Criminology and Psychology, with a minor in…” Barry could almost hear the frown forming on Bruce’s face, “… Primatology?”

“The study of primates,” Barry helpfully supplied.

“I know what primatology is,” Bruce replied. “I’m just wondering why you chose it.”

Barry shrugged. “I needed a minor and it was pretty interesting. Or at least…” he thought through his new memories for a moment, “the lady who sold it at the info booth made it sound pretty interesting.”

“Right,” Bruce muttered in response. “Anyway, before yesterday, you were a perfectly unremarkable, if high-achieving, American twenty-something. Then suddenly, you called for me, alluded to knowing far more than you had any right to know, and are now spouting about the multiverse while you have the blood of—well, frankly, I’m not even sure if it qualifies as human blood, but you have it coursing through your veins.” Bruce spun around and stared at Barry. “And you experienced a seizure when I did try to talk to you.”

Barry was silent as he looked back at Bruce.

“In isolation, maybe—just maybe, I could rationalize some of those points with a reasonable sounding explanation. But in its totality, I can only conclude that something is afoot. Your story, as insane as it sounds, does fit in the missing puzzle piece.”

Bruce paused and took a deep breath while rubbing the bridge of his nose. “And what, you said that you can run fast? Does that extend to your reflexes?”

“Well, yeah,” Barry said, almost sheepishly, “sometimes I do say that I’m that fastest man al—” Barry cut off as he saw Bruce suddenly move, a throwing motion from which emerged a familiar but different shape. A batarang. Flying at him.

Time slowed. Blue lightning flickered out, arcing out from him into the metal railings and grating that made up the platform they stood on. With a sigh, Barry reached out and plucked the batarang out of the air. Time resumed.

Bruce sat back in his chair again. “So, you’re really fast.”

“Yeah. Although I’m going to say that calling it ‘really fast’ is really an oversimplification.”

“Hm,” Bruce hummed. “That’s a useful power. And I could use that power right now, which is why your timing might be lucky for all of us.” He spun halfway and tapped a key before spinning back to Barry. Behind him, the display changed to a schematic of a satellite.

“What is that?” Barry asked.

“A high-tech, state-of-the-art WayneTech deep space satellite that sits just past Jupiter. It’s equipped with an array of sensors and cameras, and it monitors for deep space activity,” Bruce explained. “And we lost contact with it two days ago.”

“Deep space…” Barry said out loud. His brow furrowed.

“This is the last image it captured and sent back before it went offline.” The display flickered again, and a shiver ran down Barry’s spine.

It was the Kryptonian ship that had haunted his nightmares for years. The one that had hovered above Metropolis all those years ago, that had threatened to destroy not only the city but the entire world. And that nightmare had reignited just days ago. He couldn’t get it out of his head—the older Bruce dying in the crash, dying in his arms. Kara falling against Zod again and again no matter what he and his younger self—the ‘Anti-Flash’—had tried.

“You know what it is,” Bruce stated matter-of-factly.

“It’s the Kryptonians,” Barry replied flatly. “They’ve found Superman, and now they’re coming to get him.”

“I didn’t know that specifically, but I did know that whatever it was, it couldn’t be good.” Bruce stood up. “So, in response, I’m putting together a team. People with special abilities. The strongest in the world.”

“I’m in,” Barry interjected. "Count me in. I'll be a part of it."

Bruce paused for a moment, looking into Barry’s eyes as if he was searching for something.

“Okay then,” Bruce finally replied. “You’re in.” He turned for a moment before looking back at Barry. “And what was it that you called it? That... team of yours?”

“The Justice League,” Barry murmured, his eyes still glued to the display and to the image of the Kryptonian ship.

Bruce nodded. “Well then, Barry, welcome to the Justice League.”

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

Barry shivered and rubbed his arms again. Despite wearing enough layers of clothing to resemble a puffy snowman, the wind cut through like a knife through hot butter and he felt chilled to his bones anyway. His face, despite being covered in a scarf for the lower half and in reflective goggles for the upper half, felt like it was just about frozen already.

“Are you sure you couldn’t have dropped me off any closer?” Barry yelled out.

A crackle came through in his ear. “I’m afraid that it was the closest usable runway this far north, Master Allen,” Alfred’s steady tone replied. “There was no alternative other than making the rest of the journey on foot.”

“And—and you’re sure that there’s something, I don’t know, out here?” Barry asked, wildly gesticulating with both arms despite no one, including Alfred, being able to see him.

“Master Wayne indicated that Master Kent was in his… I believe he called it a Fortress, and his last mapping of the area should be accurate.”

“Right,” Barry muttered. He trudged forward through the snow. An itch grew in him to run at the superspeed he knew he could, but he repressed it. At best, it would burn all the clothes and gear off of him and then he would both freeze and starve to death in the middle of nowhere, and at worst, he would just keel over in exhaustion and die. “Next time, tell Bruce to do this himself.”

“Master Wayne has already completed the trek before,” Alfred responded matter-of-factly. “It took him two and a half hours.”

Barry checked his watch, worn in reverse on his wrist. “What the? Seriously? I’ve already been out here for three hours.”

“Master Wayne is also an Olympian-level athlete. Outside of your… powers, are you?” Alfred sounded marginally feistier than before.

“Touché, Alfred,” Barry groaned, struggling to pull himself up a shelf of ice that protruded about two feet above him. “Touché.” He pulled himself up, panting as he lay belly-down on the sheet of ice. “I can barely even see where I’m going.”

“Maintain your course,” Alfred’s rough tone came back, “and y—” The radio devolved into static before turning into silence.

“Well, that’s great,” Barry muttered to himself, pushing himself off the ground. “Just eyeball it, I guess.” He walked forward, feeling the ice slightly crunch under his feet. The view before him was virtually homogenous save for the odd hill that sloped out of his sight and the mountains in the distance.

Suddenly, the wind picked up and Barry felt himself almost float. Visibility dropped to near-zero as snow began to blanket the air. Gusts that felt as powerful as a tornado ripped through, forcing Barry to flatten himself against the ground in an effort to stay in place.

“Alfred!” he yelled, but no reply was forthcoming. He tried to claw into the snow and ice, but there was no handhold to be found, and he felt himself slipping on the ice sheet.

“No! Help!” Barry screamed, feeling himself being blown away. In that moment, he tried entering the Speed Force, but even as the lightning arced out, his feet had no purchase on the ground and he felt himself get flung across the air before tumbling down a hill. As he rolled, he tried to stop himself by extending out his arms, but instead he felt his right arm collide into a sharp rock protruding from the slope.

“Agh!” The arm crumpled under the collision and Barry continued to roll until he no longer felt the ground. Instead, he heard a splash and felt icy cold water surround him, permeating every layer of clothing he wore and pulling him down. Instantly, he felt bereft of strength, unable to try and claw his way back up to the surface with his one good arm, too weighed down by his clothing and gear to kick up. His feet felt like lead, and all he could think about was how he was slowly sinking…

The last thing Barry saw was a figure plunge into the water above him before his eyes closed.

“So, you’re fast.”

“Barry, you’re my best student, but it feels like you hardly even pay attention most of the time.”

“You need to stop worrying about your old man.”

“I had a great time tonight, Barry. I’d love to do this again.”

“He was an infant when we left. The last son of Krypton.”

“Don’t waste your life on me, Barry. I want you to live your life, not try to fix mine.”

“Do you know what this symbol stands for?”

A groan slipped out of Barry’s mouth as he tossed and turned in his sheets. Finally, he felt enough strength push open his heavy eyelids. He felt warm – far warmer than he had since coming to this part of the world and leaving Bruce’s private jet. A heavy wool blanket was draped over him, and he felt himself in a comfortable set of pajamas as well. Pajamas that he didn’t own and didn’t put on himself.

He sat up straight, eyes fully open and looking around. The room was alien to him in its design – not the Kryptonian ship that he had remembered, where they had carted in Clark’s corpse to revive from death. That ship was all rounded curves and gentle slopes. This ship was more angular, though not so much so that he would call it boxy. If he were to be honest, it was more Star Wars than it was the Kryptonian design of his past life.

The door slid open and a tall, broad-shouldered man walked in. Even out of uniform and even with a different face, Barry instantly knew who he was looking at. That aura was unmistakable on any world.

“I hope you’re feeling better,” Clark Kent said with a smile. He was dressed in a pair of worn jeans and a flannel shirt, and he had a wrapped-up sandwich in one hand that he offered to Barry. “You took a little dive there. It was touch and go for a little bit, but you look alright now.”

Barry nodded and quickly took the sandwich, feeling the gnawing hunger in his stomach. Quickly unwrapping it, he devoured half of it in two bites, savoring the fresh taste and juicy cuts inside. He also took the opportunity to furtively examine Clark. Compared to the one he had known, this Clark was younger and more fresh-faced, but he had similar features overall. They wouldn’t ever be mistaken as the same person or even brothers, but the physical presence was nearly identical.

“It’s from a local shop,” Clark noted, clearly noting Barry’s pleasure with the sandwich. “Well, local is relative, I suppose. It’s down in Montreal. A little hole in the wall – they make a mean sandwich every time.”

“I completely agree,” Barry said with his mouth stuffed. Clark nodded.

“So, what brings you here?”

Barry wiped off a little mustard that had accumulated in the corner of his lips. “Batman sent me.”

“I see.” Clark’s tone was difficult to decipher for Barry. “And I assume you’re a metahuman as well?”

Barry nodded. “Yeah.”

“That explains the arm,” Clark stated, folding his arms. Barry looked down at his right arm. “The bone is fully healed from a compound fracture even though you’ve only been here for about twelve hours.”

“Wait, twelve hours?” Barry exclaimed, jumping up in his onesie pajama. “What day is it?”

“The twenty-ninth,” Clark said. He turned slightly as if he was staring through the wall of the room. “Just about eleven in the morning.”

Barry felt a little knot of tension in his stomach. The day drew closer.

Clark raised an eyebrow. “Somehow, I sense that the date isn’t sitting well with you. Come on, let’s take a walk.” He gestured for Barry to follow him, and Barry acquiesced.

“I discovered this ship about four years ago,” Clark explained, walking down the corridors of the vessel with Barry close behind. For Barry’s part, he was caught up in trying to compare what he remembered of the Kryptonian ship from his past world with the one before him now. “It had been buried for…” Clark stopped. “Well, I actually don’t know how long it had been buried for,” he resumed as he began to walk again, “but it had been a while.”

They came to a larger, cavernous main chamber where various stations had been setup – in one corner, a small loveseat with a television had been setup, and in opposite one, a small kitchen. A desk took up yet another, and there was a case with the Superman suit inside leaning against a wall.

“As far as I can tell,” Clark continued as he spun around to face Barry, “it was an unmanned scout ship of some kind. Everything still works, more or less, though I haven’t tried to fly it. Yet.” He winked at Barry. “That should be fun if it ever gets to that point.”

“Uh huh,” Barry replied.

“That reminds me,” Clark suddenly said. “I don’t actually know your name.” He held out a hand, which Barry took.

“Barry Allen. I’m, uh, the Flash.”

“The Flash?” Clark’s left eyebrow went up. “Can’t say I’ve heard, but it’s good to make your acquaintance. I’m Clark Kent. And considering that Batman was the—hang on, do you know who Batman is?”

“Yeah?” Barry offered. “Alfred was actually the one that flew me over here.”

“Right. Well, considering that Bruce was the one who sent you, I assumed that you already knew that I was Superman. Because why else would somehow want to come all the way out here, am I right?”

“Yeah.” Barry momentarily considered telling him everything, spilling the beans about what he actually knew about everything, but held his tongue. Earlier, he and Bruce had already had a discussion, and they had agreed on keeping it between them – for now. Barry generally saw the efficacy of that option since that particular bell could not be unrung if need be. Still, looking at Clark’s trusting smile in the face, it made Barry feel at least a little guilty for withholding crucial information from him.

“So, why are you here, Barry?”

Barry fidgeted in place a little. “Well, how up to date on everything are you?”

“You mean generally? I’m a journalist, so fairly up to date, I’d say.”

“No, my bad, I meant with what Bruce knows.”

Clark scoffed. “Bruce doesn’t tell me anything, really. Actually, we don’t even talk or have a way of communicating. Which is why you’re here in person. Sorry about that, by the way – I was off in the Pacific dealing with something, so I didn’t hear you until you were already in the water on my way back.”

Barry gulped. Close brush with death it was, then. “I… see. In that case, I’ll start from the beginning.”

Clark gestured to a small circular dining table. “Let’s sit, then. Something to drink?”

“Do you have a Coke? Like one of those glass bottle ones, not the high-fructose corn syrup ones if you know what I mean.”

Clark chuckled, and in the blink of an eye, he had zipped between the fridge and the table with two tall and open glass bottles of Coke. “Only way to drink it, my new friend. Cheers.” They clinked bottles and Barry took a long drink of the sweet soda.

“Alright,” Barry finally said, putting down the now-half empty bottle. “The beginning. So, Bruce, he’s rich, right? And has a whole company. And his company’s got a satellite out in space. Like a deep-space satellite.” Barry made accompanying hand motions to emphasize the relative size of said satellite, though Clark’s brow furrowing indicated to him that it likely didn’t help. “And anyway, this deep-space satellite takes pictures and stuff, but recently it’s gone dark.”

“Equipment malfunction?” Clark interjected. “Does Bruce want me to fly out there and fix his multimillion-dollar doohickey for him?”

“No,” Barry quickly responded, patting around his clothes before he realized he was still wearing that pajama onesie. “Wait, where’s my stuff?”

Clark gestured toward the loveseat. “I left it out to dry.”

Barry quickly ran over—at normal speed, though—and rummaged through his clothes before he found the thumb drive that Bruce had given him. “Computer?”

A blur later and Clark was sitting at the table with a laptop. Barry sprinted back over and plugged it in, hoping that Bruce had the foresight to make the drive Barry-proof. Within seconds, the laptop popped up the file contents of the drive.

“Yes! So,” Barry continued, “the last thing that the deep-space satellite saw was… this.” He double-clicked on the image file, and the three-legged Kryptonian ship popped up on the screen.

Clark leaned in to see the picture. “Okay… so, aliens?”

Barry paused for a moment. “Clark, it’s Kryptonian.”

“And how would you know that?” Clark asked, suddenly turning to Barry. At that moment, Barry realized that he may have overplayed his hand slightly. Earlier, Bruce hadn’t even known what species Clark really was.

“Um,” Barry tried to think quickly for a reasonable explanation. “I… just… do?”

“That’s not really an explanation, Barry,” Clark replied in a flat tone. “I’m going to ask you: what do you know about Kryptonians?”

Barry sighed. “I know a lot, Clark. And I know that you want to know why, but I really can’t tell you. Not yet.” He looked Clark in the eyes. “I promise that I’ll tell you one day, and not like a really far away day or something, but moderately soon. Whatever that means.”

There was an inscrutable expression on Clark’s face as he stared intently at Barry, enough for him to feel uncomfortable and want to shy away. Finally, Clark blinked, and the moment was over.

“Okay,” Clark said simply. He extended a hand. “I’ll hold you to that, Barry. One day.”

“One day,” Barry agreed, taking Clark’s hand and shaking it with no small amount of relief. “So, the ship.”

“The Kryptonian ship.” That hard-to-decipher tone in Clark’s voice returned. “It broke Bruce’s satellite and now it’s coming here.”

“Probably. It’s hard to imagine that they’re just transiting through the Solar System.”

“And I’m the only one on Earth that can stand up to them.” Clark turned to Barry. “Am I going to need to stand up to them?” Something in Clark’s tone told Barry that Clark trusted whatever answer he gave.

“I hope not,” Barry murmured. “But I think you’ll have to.”

Clark’s solemn expression said everything that Barry expected.

“Ah, Master Kent,” Alfred exclaimed, standing outside the jet on the small runway. “And Master Allen. It’s good to see you both.” Frankly, his tone didn’t really sound all too pleased to Barry’s ears.

“Alfred, good to see you again,” Clark said, taking Alfred’s hand in a handshake.

“Alfred,” Barry greeted, nodding his head toward the older man before going up the steps into the private jet. Alfred nodded back and followed Barry in. Clark was already taking a seat, having dressed into a suit with glasses on. Barry, for his part, had simply put on his dried winter gear, though in the temperature-controlled environment of the jet, it was quickly becoming too hot to be bearable. He stripped the top two layers off and set them aside on an empty seat before taking his own across from Clark.

“I trust that Master Allen has filled you in?” Alfred asked, stopping beside them. Clark nodded. “Good, I’ll be in the cockpit if you need anything, then.” The butler slipped away, leaving Barry and Clark alone in the cabin of the jet.

“Do you know anything about the other metahumans that Bruce has searched for?” Barry asked. He was still quite out of the loop, and anything that Clark knew was information that could be used.

“Some of them,” Clark admitted, adjusting his glasses. “When I last talked to Bruce, he had discovered two of them and was searching for a third. She was elusive, though – hard to find even with Bruce’s resources.”

“Who?”

“The name she went by was Diana Prince, but there was evidence showing that she had been active since at least the Second World War,” Clark explained. “And a lot more evidence that she was and probably still is very powerful.”

Barry nodded. Clark raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“I don’t,” Barry agreed. Bruce had once told him that Diana had been in hiding before Clark died. It seemed like that wasn’t an unusual thing across the multiverse.

“The first of the two we had met was Hal,” Clark continued.

“Hal?”

“Something that I know that you don’t,” Clark chuckled. “Will wonders never cease?” He cleared his throat after a few moments. “Hal Jordan. He used to be a pilot in the Air Force. When we caught up with him, he was working in the private sector as a test pilot. He has a… ring of some kind. I’m not quite sure what it is, but it gives him immense strength. He calls himself the Green Lantern.”

“Huh.” Barry blinked a few times, but try as he might, he could recall nothing about a Green Lantern from his past. It seemed like that was one of the differences – either they didn’t exist in the old world, or his Earth just didn’t have one for some reason.

“The second is Arthur Curry. He’s an eccentric fellow, to say the least.”

“Is his father, by any chance, running a lighthouse?”

Clark’s eyebrow raised again – a common occurrence with Barry. “… Yes, Thomas Curry does run a lighthouse. That’s how we found Arthur.”

“And what is Arthur, exactly?”

“Best I could tell,” Clark stroked his chin, “was that he was some sort of underwater metahuman. Swims really well, can talk to fish, and he seems to be quite at home in the ocean. Big fellow, too. I’m not sure I would ever want to fight him.”

Barry guffawed, and then proceeded to cover it up with a raging cough when Clark looked at him strangely. It seemed that Arthur was more or less the same here as he was back home, in the past world.

Some things really didn’t change.

One flight later, and Barry found himself standing in line for his bagel sandwich. He didn’t quite know why he kept coming to this particular shop – well, okay, he did know. The shop was basically identical to the one he used to go to, and that brought some amount of comfort to him, that even with the complete shattering of a world, some things didn’t change.

Still, that barely helped with the waiting. Especially since Barry was starving.

“Barry?” a light voice called out from behind him. He whipped around to come face-to-face with a woman he had only seen scattered in his dreams, but whose identity was very known to him – or at least a version of him.

“Iris West,” he breathed out. She was a different Iris than the one that he had crushed on throughout college – fairer skin, redder hair, different facial features – but the feeling that he had toward her remained the same, nonetheless. Somehow. She was still cute in every universe, too.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Iris laughed. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, me? Uh, well, you know, I’m just,” he gestured to the counter, “just waiting for my bagel, heh.”

“Right,” Iris nodded. “Yeah, they make one of the meanest sandwiches in town, but damned if they don’t make you wait for it.”

Barry just nodded, perhaps a little too rapidly.

“Say,” Iris slowly began, absentmindedly taking a strand of her hair to twirl around a finger, “did you still want to grab dinner on Friday? I know you said you were open to it last time…” she trailed off.

“Yea—yeah, that sounds great,” Barry nodded, a smile emerging on his face. “I’d love to—”

The lights in the bagel shop suddenly went out, plunging the whole restaurant into darkness amidst a number of yelps and cries. Barry looked around, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling as goosebumps set in. It was still too soon…

The television that the shop had mounted behind the counter emitted a burst of static, drawing attention to it from all of the customers and employees inside. A strange whining sound came from the television, like someone was trying to find the right frequency on an old radio. Finally, it came to a stop, leaving silence behind.

“You are not alone,” a voice called out.

Barry stiffened. His arms shook slightly.

“You are not alone.”

Someone behind Barry whimpered slightly.

“You are not alone.”

Barry felt Iris take his arm, and he turned to see her wide-eyed.

The television buzzed once again, before the static visuals gave way to an unclear figure.

“My name is General Zod.”

Barry squeezed his eyes shut at the name – that cursed name, of the demon who bore that name. The demon that had killed Kara, had indirectly killed Bruce, and that had destroyed an entire world due to his megalomania.

“I come from a world far from yours. I have journeyed across an ocean of stars to reach you. For some time, your world has sheltered one of my citizens. I request that you return this individual to my custody.”

A pause.

“You may know this individual… as the Superman.”

Barry squeezed his fist and opened his eyes to stare at the Zod’s obscured figure.

“To those that know where he is, it is your duty to facilitate his return. And to Kal-El, I say this: surrender within twenty-four hours, or I will be forced to intervene more extensively.”

The television’s audio turned to static once more, and after a few seconds, it flickered off again and the lights turned back on.

Somebody screamed, and then panic ensued. Customers rushed out of the shop, leaving behind only a few stragglers that stayed behind, including Barry and Iris.

“Are you okay,” Barry asked, taking Iris by her shoulders. Her eyes were still wide, but she nodded, nonetheless, and swallowed hard.

“I think, think so, yeah,” she stumbled. Barry could see it, the fear in her eyes. The same fear that he himself held in his heart, the fear that he hadn’t been able to eradicate in the many years since he had first seen Zod’s path of destruction. He brought Iris into a hug, letting her fall into his chest.

“It’ll be alright, Iris,” he whispered, placing his chin on the top of her head. He stared at the blank television screen where Zod had been just moments before. “I promise you.”

This time, he wouldn’t fail. He couldn’t.

He owed Kara, Bruce, and himself that much, at least.

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

There was an expected tension in the air. As many times as Barry had visited the prison in his past world, it never went away. It didn’t help that this world’s Iron Heights Penitentiary was new to him – a different layout and different guards. And a different father too.

Barry knew it to be the case; his memories showed a man that looked nothing like the father he remembered, but it was one thing to know that and another entirely to see it for himself. The memories that Barry had, for lack of a better word, inherited in this world were still incongruent for him at some level, conflicting with the memories that he originally had. It didn’t hurt anymore to think about one set over the other, just… strange. It felt like he almost slipped into a different world, one where he had a slightly different, yet similar personality. The other Barry had lived a life so similar to his, but things had changed enough that they were not the same person.

That raised the question – what happened to the other Barry, the one of this world that had been here before he woke up in his body? Was he alive or dead? Was he in him? Was he in him? Was he even himself anymore, or some multiversal amalgamation of Barry Allens?

The longer he thought about it, the less it made sense to Barry, so he shelved it – for now.

There was movement on the other side of the glass from where Barry was sitting, so he immediately leaned forward, his hand ready to take the phone handle on the side of the glass.

An older man stopped in front of the booth, with an officer behind him that uncuffed him. The man sat down and picked up his phone.

“Barry,” Henry Allen breathed out, a smile breaking out on his face. “How’ve you been? Have you been eating good?”

“Dad,” Barry replied, a smile creeping onto his face as well. For some reason, he felt it – the love he had for his fatherthat shared almost no resemblance to the father of his past. This man was older, his hair grayer, his build broader and bulkier, but in essence Barry could feel he was the same man. Or at least, as close to it as the universe would allow. “No, I’ve been good, yeah.”

He wanted to hug his father, but the pane of glass stopped him.

“Are you sure you’ve been eating? You look thin, kid,” Henry noted. “I’m bigger, and I’m in here!”

“Well,” Barry wiggled his shoulders slightly, his head bobbing side-to-side, “I’ve been a little busy, you know. School, coursework, there’s this girl I met.”

“A girl,” Henry nodded. There was a short pause between the men. “Does she make you happy, Barry? Being with her, I mean.”

“I… I think so, dad, but honestly, we’ve only gone on like three dates, max.”

Henry raised an eyebrow. “Already losing track of the number of dates? Slow down there, son.”

“Heh,” Barry chuckled slightly, but his smile fell away quicker than he would’ve liked. His father’s smile likewise did the same. The elephant in the room, of course, was omnipresent. It had been for everyone after the message.

“So…” Henry broached the topic, “aliens.”

“Aliens,” Barry confirmed.

“They exist.”

“Well, Superman was always around, right? And Zo—I mean, the guy on the TV said he was an alien like them.”

“You know,” Henry admitted, “I guess I never really thought about it like that. Superman was… well, he is Superman. I didn’t really consider him different than the rest of us.”

Barry swallowed and nervously smiled. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“Barry, are you okay?” Henry asked, leaning closer to the glass. “I’m serious. Are you okay?”

“I’m just a little worried, I guess. About the whole alien thing.”

“I think you’d be insane if you weren’t. But I’m not, Barry, and I don’t think you should be either.”

“Are you going to say it’s because of God? Because you know tha—”

Henry laughed, cutting Barry off. “I know, I know. And while I do have my faith that justice will be done, it’s not because of that. No,” Henry placed a hand on the glass, which Barry reciprocated. “It’s because I believe in Superman. I believe that he was sent here for a reason, and that this might be the reason, and I believe that he’s a good man that will do what is right and what is needed. And, you know there’s all sorts of other heroes out there these days, I hear. There’s a lot of good people out there that are going to stand up these guys.”

Barry looked down, his hand still on the glass mirroring his father’s. “I hope so, dad. I really do.” When he looked back up, Henry looked like he was struggling to hold in tears, though his smile remained.

“Next time we talk, Barry, everything will be fine. I feel it in my gut, and it’s not just that fishy tuna sandwich we had for lunch.”

“Ha,” Barry weakly chuckled. “I get it. Because it's actually fishy, right?”

“I always knew you inherited my sense of humor.” Henry looked up and to his right for a moment. “Alright, Barry, I’ve got to go. But next month, right?”

“Yeah, dad, I’ll be here.”

Henry nodded. “I love you, Barry.”

“I love you too, dad,” Barry whispered as his father stood and hung up his phone. Henry’s hand lifted off the glass, and so did Barry’s in response. For a few moments, Henry stared at him through the glass before he turned away with the officer, who promptly re-cuffed in him.

Barry sat there a little longer, the phone still held to his ear, before he sighed, finally hung up his side, and closed his eyes.

It was time for him to get to work.

“Barry, you’re late,” Bruce noted as Barry entered the small building. It was a warehouse on outskirts of the Port of Gotham owned by Wayne Enterprises, which made it a convenient place to meet up. The billionaire owner of the warehouse was already dressed in his Batman gear—an armored affair compared to what the old Bruce wore, with metal plating and heavy padding—albeit with his cowl off.

“I don’t see anyone else,” Barry responded, looking around. “Unless everyone’s hiding.”

“No, you’re the second one here.” Bruce paused. “After me.”

“So how I am late then?”

“If you’re not first, you’re late.”

Barry blinked.

Bruce sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Barry, you’re probably the fastest man alive. You’re the ‘Flash.’ If anyone gets to the scene before you do, you’ve already failed. You should be first, every time, everywhere.”

“Well…” Barry trailed off.

“Did you case the place before you walked in?” Bruce asked.

“Did I what now?”

“Case the place.” Bruce walked toward Barry. “You’re faster than anyone I know – maybe even faster than Superman. You can look around before you actually come in and no one would be any the wiser. Also, tag – you’re it.”

“Huh?” Barry questioned. He looked around, then spun around. A red laser dot was spot on the center of his torso. “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed,” Bruce mirthlessly quoted. “I want you to think about these things, Barry. You have the speed, so use it.They may save your life one day, or the life of someone fighting beside you.”

A beeping from Bruce’s wrist cut him off, and he quickly checked it. “Showtime,” Bruce stated, pulling on his cowl.

Barry just blinked as Superman dove through the skylight of the warehouse and landed gently in the middle of the empty space.

“Hiya, guys,” Superman said with a small smile, his hair just slightly askew from flying. A simple comb of his hair with his hand fixed that problem. “Am I early?”

“You’re late,” Barry said with a smile as he turned to Batman. The Dark Knight gave no response, and Barry promptly turned back to Superman. “No, I’m just kidding, you’re actually early.”

“You’re just on time,” Batman finally spoke up.

A giant green hand pushed its way through the warehouse’s front doors, and a green-and-black-suited man with a green face mask floated in.

“Okay, that’s a lot of green,” Barry commented. The floating man’s eyes narrowed.

“I told him the same thing,” a familiar voice called out. Barry turned to see none other than Arthur Curry, the Aquaman, walk in underneath the floating, green-dressed man. “He didn’t appreciate it either.”

“Arthur!” Barry cried out, before realizing that he probably shouldn’t have. He just couldn’t hold it in, though – Arthur’s was the first familiar face that Barry had seen since waking up in this world. He looked identical to his counterpart, all the way down to the slightly sour expression that seemed to be permanently stuck on his face.

“Do I know you?” Aquaman asked, his usual gruff tone shining through. “Because I think I would’ve remembered meeting a weirdo like you.”

“Uh, I guess not,” Barry sheepishly responded. Despite Arthur’s familiar appearance, it didn’t seem like this Arthur remembered anything from other worlds. Barry felt himself deflate slightly at that – he had begun to hope that maybe someone out there could remember things. “I’m Barry.”

“Hmph,” Aquaman snorted, walking past Barry. “Bats. Supes.”

“Arthur, good to see you,” Superman responded.

“Who’s the new guy?” the floating man asked, his green mask facing down at Barry. “He doesn’t even have an outfit, unless his whole shtick is ‘Hi, I’m Barry the Regular Man’ or something like that.”

“Oh!” Barry exclaimed. He focused for a moment, feeling the familiar sensation of the Speed Force just outside the realm of reality as he knew it with his five senses for the first time since arriving in this world. Grinning, he pressed his ring open and let it rip, feeling the sensation of pure speed as the world grinded to a halt around him. Absentmindedly as he put on his outfit, he noticed Superman’s eyes slowly but steadily tracking him, so he flung up his regular clothes in front of him where they froze in mid-air between them and resolved to remain facing the opposite direction.

A burst of lightning later and he came to a stop, letting the excess lightning dissipate around him.

“Better?” Flash asked, looking up at the floating man.

“Show-off,” mister green-lover scoffed. He came down to Barry’s level and extended a hand. “I’m Hal Jordan – Green Lantern.”

“Barry Allen, the Flash,” Barry introduced himself, taking Hal’s hand.

“That’s a fairly apt name,” Green Lantern admitted.

As is your own. You’ve certainly got a lot of… green.”

“You haven’t seen the half of it. I’ve got an actual green lantern back at home that I use to charge the ring.” Green Lantern held up his right hand in a fist, letting Barry see a silver ring with an inset stylized green lantern on its face.

“Huh.”

If you’re done with the meet and greet,” Batman’s gruff voice called out from behind them, and the two superheroes turned to see the other three men gathered in a half-circle facing them, “then we can begin.”

“Right,” Flash nodded. “Sorry.”

Batman placed a small device at the center of their circle and activated it, projecting a translucent hologram in the air. Flash felt that nervous tension return, that unsolvable knot reform as the projector showed the three-legged Kryptonian ship.

“The threat we face is a ship of Kryptonians,” Batman began.

“Kryptonians?” Aquaman asked. “What the heck is a Kryptonian?”

“I’m a Kryptonian,” Superman said, arms crossed as he looked at the Kryptonian ship’s hologram.

“Oh,” Aquaman intoned. “Oh.”

“If you’ll let me finish,” Batman interjected, with a slight amount of tension in his voice. “As I was saying, a Kryptonian ship is currently in orbit. Thanks to confirmed intel, we know that the leader of the forces, General Zod, is currently parked in orbit above the Mojave.” He clicked a button on his wrist, which switched the hologram from the three-legged Kryptonian vessel to a geographic map of the western United States. “The military has already setup an encampment near that location.”

“Zod wants me,” Superman sighed. “Which means I have to surrender myself to him. We don’t want to fight if we don’t have to.”

“I don’t like that plan,” Green Lantern spoke up. “What’s the guarantee that he won’t just wipe us off the face of the Earth once he’s done with Superman? I say we face him head-on and take our chances with the rest of the ship.”

“I—I don’t think we should do that,” Flash said, causing four heads to turn toward him. “Zod’s a powerful guy, and I don’t know if we can beat him and his army.”

“His army?” Aquaman’s eyes narrowed. “What do you know about this Zod?”

“Flash is one of our sources of intel,” Batman intervened. “He gathered crucial intel for us before this meeting. I trust his information.” He looked at Barry, who nodded nervously in relief.

“If Batman trusts him, then that’s good enough for me,” Superman concurred, also softly smiling at Barry. “But that doesn’t solve the issue of how we’re going to face Zod and his people.”

“I can gather some of my best warriors,” Aquaman said, “and we can bust in his front door on that ship of his.”

“An army… they’re all Kryptonians, man,” Green Lantern shook his head. “Do you really want to fight an army of Supermans?”

“I thought you wanted to face him head-on a minute ago,” Aquaman indignantly replied. “Now you want to kneel before him?”

“A minute ago, I didn’t know that Zod had an entire army of Kryptonians behind him. That changes everything!”

“It changes nothing,” Batman’s firm voice echoed out, silencing dissent and reasserting control. “Our objective remains the same – we’re here to defend Earth, and that means that we need to do whatever it takes to defend Earth.”

Green Lantern shook his head slightly. “I don’t know. I don’t know if we can fight this guy, and I don’t know whether we should. Look, I’ll fight, but what you’re proposing is a suicide mission if you just want to run into Zod and go toe-to-toe. The only one of us here that can do that is Superman, and we’ve only got one of him. We don’t even know how many Kryptonians he’s got on that ship or what kind of weapons they have either. Hell, we don’t even know how to get into the ship to find out!”

“Sometimes, the easiest way in is through the front door,” Batman cryptically said.

“I… have no idea what you mean,” Green Lantern admitted.

“When Superman goes to meet Zod this afternoon, the rest of us will be waiting in the wings. The Kryptonians’ attentions will be focused on Superman, which gives us a window to get into that ship.”

“And why do we want to get into the spooky alien ship?” Aquaman asked, both hands held on his trident in front of him. “Sounds like a death trap to me.”

“Because we need to understand what the Kryptonians are planning before we can stop it,” Flash said explained. This was the part that he had already rehearsed with Bruce earlier. “Sabotage, espionage – we need to be onboard to do that.”

“And having a man or two onboard to help Superman if things go south won’t hurt either,” Batman followed up.

“Well, it sounds like it might hurt a lot – for the guy who gets onboard.”

Batman glared at Aquaman for a moment before he continued speaking.

“The plan goes like this: Superman will greet Zod on the ground where the military has setup their designated checkpoint. If the Kryptonians use a dropship to pick him up like they did when they communicated with the military, then Flash will sneak onto the ship before they take Superman onboard. If they don’t, we will still have Lantern in the air waiting to sneak in from below. That way, we get two bites at the apple.”

“And what if something goes wrong. Say I get shot down before I can get onboard,” Lantern said, “or Flash gets caught onboard the hypothetical dropship. What are we supposed to do then?”

Batman sighed. “Only what we can do – try not to get caught, talk first if you do get caught, and fight only as a last resort. On the off chance that Zod isn’t trying to pull anything on us yet, we should still play it by ear cautiously. We don’t have enough information yet, so we take it slowly and steadily until we do.”

“And what am I supposed to do in all this?” Aquaman spoke up. “Zod and the military are in the middle of a freaking desert and I’m more of an aquatic kind of guy, as you may have noticed.”

“You’re the backup plan,” Batman explained. “If Plan A goes completely wrong, then we need you and your people ready to fight. We need soldiers on both coasts ready to go on a moment’s notice.”

“Getting Atlanteans to fight for surface-dwellers?” Aquaman snorted. “You’d have a better chance of finding Themyscira than that. I can muster a few people, the ones that I trust the most and are loyal to me, but I won’t be able to assemble the Atlantean army for this. Not this quickly.”

“You’ll have to, Arthur,” Batman said, walking toward the King of Atlantis. “You’re the only one here that can do that, and your people will need to defend themselves if Zod comes after them – which he will if he intends to wipe out humanity first.”

Aquaman pursed his lips. “I’ll use that to try and persuade people.” He shook his head. “No promises, though. The only thing I can offer you is the hope that maybe this crazy-as-hell plan of yours will work.”

Batman clasped a hand on Aquaman’s shoulders. “That’s all we need.”

“Alright,” Lantern said, uncrossing his arms. “I’m in. It’s a shit plan, I’m probably never going to like it, and it sounds like a surefire way to get killed, but I’m in. I don’t want to fight an army of Kryptonians still, but I’m also not going to be the coward here that sits out because he’s too scared.”

Batman turned to Flash.

Barry bit his lower lip in nervousness. “Yeah, I’ll do it. I don’t know if I can sneak by Kryptonians because they can move really fast, but I’ll do it.”

“So, we have a plan,” Batman said.

“And we have a team,” Superman interjected, looking at the four others. “I believe that matters more.”

“The Justice League,” Batman continued.

There was a pause.

“The what-now?” Aquaman frowned.

“Yeah, I’m going to have to agree with fish-boy over there,” Lantern concurred. “Justice League? Really?”

“Call me fish-boy one more time and I’ll make you part of a flyboy shish-kabob,” Aquaman responded about as calmly as he could.

“The Justice League,” Flash repeated. “I mean, I think it’s a pretty neat name.” Barry hoped that he was enough to persuade them.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Aquaman shook his head. “We’re really gonna go around calling ourselves the Justice League?”

“I suppose it could be worse,” Lantern muttered. “We could be the Superhero League, or the Do-Gooders. Maybe the Justice Society.”

“One of those is not like the others, flyboy,” Aquaman replied. “I’d take Justice Society over Justice League any day of the week.”

“It’s the Justice League,” Batman said firmly, his tone leaving no room to broach the topic. “End of discussion.”

“Alright, Bats,” Aquaman put a hand up in front of him in a show of deference. “You’re the boss.”

Barry felt a small kindling of hope in his heart – the birth of a little possibility. The possibility that they might not die, that they might succeed where he had failed, that this world would not be like the world that he couldn’t save. That Zod wouldn’t be the end of humanity like he had been in the other universe. No, in this world, they had assembled the mightiest heroes Earth had to offer, and they were all ready to fight alongside each other for the future of the world.

They had the strength of Clark Kent – the Superman.

They had the mind of Bruce Wayne – the Dark Knight, Batman.

They had the will of Hal Jordan – the Green Lantern.

They had the tenacity of Arthur Curry – the King of Atlantis, Aquaman.

And they had the speed of himself, Barry Allen – the fastest man alive, Flash.

The nexus of possibility and uncertainty for the future.

“We’re gonna do great, guys!” Barry exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement and hope.

The four of them turned to him.

“Dude, you need to learn some timing,” Aquaman remarked. “Because I think you just ruined the moment.”

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

Superman cut an imposing figure.

He floated a few yards above the ground, past the barbed wire, chain link fencing, and concrete roadblocks hastily set up by the army as their encampment’s perimeter. His red cape fluttered almost majestically in the light breeze, and he faced outward, his arms by his side, as he looked out into the barren desert. Behind him, an array of military hardware, ranging from tanks to attack helicopters and everything in between, was at the ready.

Barry, for his part, was watching Superman from an oblique angle, positioned outside the nominal perimeter of the army’s base behind Superman but within the perimeter of area that Lieutenant General Swanwick had noted they constantly monitored. The two of them were lying under what Barry could only describe as a flat camouflaged tent, barely visible since they were positioned on the other side of a small knoll. Swanwick had also noted that they were invisible to thermal detection, with the tent mimicking the properties of the surrounding environment. That mostly meant that Barry was also sweating buckets in his suit.

“Are you good?” Swanwick asked, looking through a pair of binoculars. “This crazy plan you guys came up with only works if you don’t overheat on me.” He lowered his binoculars and rummaged behind him, grabbing a plastic water bottle. “Here, hydrate.” His tone left little room to argue, sounding more like he was barking an order at a soldier than talking to a civilian.

“Thanks, general,” Barry said, grabbing the bottle and greedily drinking. He pulled off the cowl of his suit and wiped his brow. “Zod’s going to kill me through heatstroke alone.”

Swanwick took a look at Barry, shook his head, and pulled his binoculars back up to his eyes. A few more minutes went by, with Barry trying not to die and Swanwick constantly looking out at the horizon.

“I see them,” Superman suddenly said, crackling to life over their commlink earpieces.

“Lantern, are you in position?” Batman’s voice came through.

“Ready,” Lantern replied.

“Go,” Batman ordered. Barry could imagine Hal flying toward the Kryptonian ship, though he couldn’t see or hear it.

“There,” Swanwick said, pointing out into the distance. “A dropship incoming. That means it’s almost your time to shine, Mister Red.”

“Finally,” Barry whispered.

“Video feed is online,” Batman stated. Swanwick pulled out a rugged-looking tablet from his side, powering it on to tune into the video feed of the state-of-the-art miniaturized camera that was nestled in Superman’s hair.

Flash leaned over to see what was going on; after all, he needed to know when he had an opening to blitz for the dropship. Said dropship, on the video feed, skimmed across the surface of the desert, blowing up a plume of dust and sand in its wake. It came to a stop just in front of Superman, and a ramp lowered onto the ground. Two armored figures, with masks tinted, walked out, and Barry got ready to run. His window was coming.

Both figures’ masks turned transparent as they approached Superman, revealing their faces. The front one appeared to be that of a pale woman who Barry didn’t recognize, but the second one caused him to stop and freeze on his way up.

It was Kara Zor-El. Superman’s cousin. The one that he remembered from the doomed timeline.

A series of jumbled thoughts made their way through Barry’s multiverse-addled brain. How was she even with Zod? The series of events that would have had to occur to lead to that was enough to make his mind hurt a little. Was she anything like the Kara he knew? From Arthur, Barry could expect that she only had the same face without any of the memories, but Arthur was still, well, quintessentially Arthur despite it being a different universe. Did that hold true for everyone that he could recognize?

“Flash!” Swanwick’s sharp tone came from behind. “Stop dilly-dallying and go!”

“R—right, go!” Flash said, and he felt the Speed Force energize around him as he pushed off. Orange-yellow lightning flickered off of his suit as he ran fast, making sure to take a circuitous route to flank behind the Kryptonians and sneak onboard. Coming through the desert, he could see the dropship in front of him, Kara and the other woman’s backs, and Superman looking almost directly at him. Even at this speed, Barry had little doubt that Superman could see him, which meant that if Kara or the other Kryptonian were to turn, then the ruse was over before it really began.

Barry zipped past the dropship, took a sharp u-turn, and slid right up the ramp into the dropship. It was a fairly cramped affair inside, though the layout wasn’t as alien as one might have expected; he had seen that coming from the inside of Clark’s ship in the Arctic. There was a set of stairs that led to an upper deck—presumably where the controls were—so Barry parked himself under the stairs, obscuring himself with a crate that was placed there, and waited. Thankfully, he could see hear all of the talking through Superman’s side in his commlink.

“Kal-El,” an unknown female voice said, leading Barry to assume it was the female Kryptonian that he didn’t recognize, “I am sub-commander Faora-Ul. On behalf of General Zod, I extend you his greetings.” There was the sound of shuffling, like someone walking closer while another walked away.

“Kal,” another voice breathed out in what sounded like slight disbelief, this time one that Barry recognized as Kara’s familiar, relatively deep timbre.

Barry could almost hear the frown of confusion that must’ve been setting itself on Superman’s face. “Do I… know you?” Superman asked.

“No, no. You don’t,” Kara responded. “But you should have, had things not gone wrong. The last time I held you, you were a tiny baby. And now…” she trailed off.

“You held me as an infant? How?”

“Kal, my name is Kara Zor-El, daughter of Zor-El and of the House of El. My father was your father’s brother. I am your cousin.”

There was a relatively lengthy pause. “My… cousin,” Superman stated, his tone slightly incredulous. “How?”

“It is a story that takes a little time to explain,” Kara clarified. "We were supposed to leave Krypton together, and we did, but something went wrong, and I did not make it here to Earth with you.”

“Kara can tell you the rest onboard,” Faora interjected. “We should not keep General Zod waiting. I have already informed your military that we will be ascending into orbit now that we have you.”

“Very well,” Superman agreed. “We should go, then. I would like to speak more with you, Kara.”

“And we will, Kal.”

Flash quickly tuned off of his commlink as he heard the sound of footsteps coming closer toward the dropship, and within moments, three sets of footsteps sounded on the metal plating of the dropship’s floor.

“Wait here,” Faora said, turning to Kal before climbing the stairs. Thankfully, she didn’t see Flash hidden underneath.

Neither did Kara, who turned to Kal for a few seconds before following Faora up the stairs to the cockpit. Superman stood there in the hold of the ship, looking around at the interior before his eyes settled on the spot under the stairs where Flash was hiding. And based on Superman’s expression, Flash could tell that he had been spotted. A small head tilt was the only indication on Superman’s part before he returned to feigned curiosity, and the dropship lifted up into the air, accelerating at rapid-enough pace that Barry felt himself being pushed into the floor.

Quickly moving, he unstrapped a rebreather prepared by Batman to his face. There was a little oxygen tank that he could swap over to once the recycled air had negligible oxygen content left, but generally speaking, the plan called for a faster pace than that. If he was still on the Kryptonian ship after he ran out of oxygen, asphyxiating to death would probably be the nicer way to die.

The dropship began to decelerate, presumably because it had reached space, though Barry wouldn’t have known because the ship seemed to have some form of artificial gravity that kept it at a nice and pleasant one-g for him. Before long, there was the tell-tale sensation of the dropship coming to a stop with a slight rumble, or at least it was tell-tale insofar as that was the indication in all of the science-fiction Barry had grown up consuming. Still, his suspicions were confirmed when both Faora and Kara walked down the stairs and guided Superman out of the ship.

Steeling himself, Flash tapped into the Speed Force and bursted out, making sure to avoid the direct line-of-sight of any Kryptonian. The hangar seemed to be largely empty, with Faora, Kara, and Superman all facing the opposite way as Flash zoomed through open doors. He whipped out a small handheld device—also provided by Batman, as was tradition—to pinpoint Green Lantern’s location and zipped toward him. The ship seemed mostly empty, which was beneficial to the Flash as he zoomed through corridors.

Lantern was apparently in one of the cargo holds in the ship’s bowels. Flash came to a stop in front of him, causing the former Air Force pilot to raise an eyebrow behind the green eyemask he wore.

“Having fun?” Lantern intoned. Like him, Lantern was also wearing a rebreather, though he had also noted earlier that he didn’t need one; Batman had insisted, though. It seemed like Lantern was wearing it just to get Batman off his back, though the rebreather did also contain useful data that was being routed back to the Dark Knight.

“I scouted out a good half of the ship, but I didn’t see anything,” Barry said. “I also hardly saw anyone, too.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Lantern stated as he frowned. “There’s not enough Kryptonians on this ship to amount to much of anything, and there’s barely anything in cargo holds either. I mean, look at this one.” Lantern gestured around. “It’s practically empty.”

Barry looked around, curiosity getting the better of him. “Lantern, can you float me up to near the ceiling? I want to see this room from above.”

Lantern raised his right fist, emanating green light out from it. In the form of an arcade claw machine grip, he picked Barry up.

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Barry mirthlessly said.

“It is to me,” Lantern grinned in return.

When Barry was lifted to the top of the room, he took it all in. The room was large and rectangular in design, with uniform shelving units stacked on top of each other and lining the room in columns down lengthwise. However, they were all largely concentrated on the corner of the room to Barry’s left-front, toward the entrance he had ran through to enter and away from the cargo bay doors behind him that he assumed led into space.

“It seems like they removed supplies before they got here,” Barry thought out loud as Lantern lowered him back to the floor. “I think Batman would’ve said something had he noticed the Kryptonians offloading stuff in orbit.”

“That was one of my first thoughts,” Lantern concurred. “But where did they move it to?”

“No idea,” Barry admitted. “Even if we narrow it down to them doing it in the Solar System, that still leaves anywhere between Jupiter, when they busted the deep space satellite, and here.”

“Deep space satellite?” Lantern frowned.

Barry waved him off. “Not important right now. The point is that there’s a lot of empty space to cover in that distance, so we’re back to square one. We should probably get out of here while we still can.”

“Check your commlink,” Lantern suddenly said. Barry flicked his back on just in time to hear Zod’s voice.

“Welcome onboard, Kal-El. The Sword of Krypton greets you.”

“Sword of Krypton?” Superman asked. “And what would that be?”

“The means through which we will resurrect Krypton from its ruin,” Zod replied cryptically. “But come, Kal – this is a time for celebration, not conflict. You have returned to your rightful home.”

There was a faint crackle. “I… feel strange,” Superman gasped out. “Weak.” He coughed.

“You are adapting to your natural environment, Kal,” Zod could be heard saying. “You have spent a lifetime adapting to what this planet is like, but you never experienced the air that your forebears breathed.”

Superman continued to splutter and cough until the commlink went silent.

Flash and Lantern looked at each other. “Well, shit,” they simultaneously said.

“Batman to away team,” Batman’s gruff voice came online. “I assume you both heard that?”

“Yeah,” Lantern replied. “It sounds bad. Superman isn’t doing well, and we have no idea what’s going on in this ship. There’s no evidence here of anything, just a suspicious lack of it.”

There was a silence for a few moments. “Find and retrieve Superman, then evac out of there.”

“Gotcha,” Lantern said. The commlink went silent. “We’ve got our orders, fast-boy.”

Barry shook his head, lowering himself into his running stance. “You really need to work on your name game. It’s really, really bad.” Without waiting for a response, he took off in a burst of electricity.

He zoomed through the corridors, skipping the rooms he had already checked and phasing into the ones he hadn’t to see if it was where Superman was. Either he was in a medbay of some kind, or he was in a prison cell. Or, as Victor would sometimes have said in the past, por qué no los dos?

Barry came to a temporary stop to take a breather. He would’ve liked to take a sip of water from the little bottle he had strapped to his belt, but given his rebreather and the likely toxic Kryptonian atmosphere of the ship that he had no chance at breathing in, it was better to dehydrate.

“Who are you?” a voice called out from behind him, and Barry whipped around to see Kara looking at him about five paces away. Unlike earlier, she no longer had that combat armor on, only wearing a skintight black jumpsuit that resembled the material of Superman’s outfit. She had an angry but curious look on her face, and before he could respond, she groaned slightly with one hand flying to the side of her head.

Thinking fast, he reentered the Speed Force and took Kara by the shoulders, phasing both her and him through the nearest wall—which he first double-checked to ensure that it wasn’t a hull panel separating them from the vacuum of outer space, a scenario that would have been much worse for him than for her —before slamming her against the wall of the room, which itself turned out to be some sort of small storage closet.

“Get off me,” she growled, shoving her off of him with surprising strength and causing him to stumble backwards in a yelp of pain. Still, his back was to the only door for the room, which meant that she couldn’t run to raise the alarm. “What did you do to me?”

“Phasing,” he said, both hands up. She wasn’t his Kara, but he still didn’t want to hurt her. “I just… phased us through the wall. That’s it.”

Kara groaned again, this time falling to her knees and grabbing her head with both hands.

“Are you okay?” Barry slowly asked, hesitantly walking forward toward her with a hand reached out.

“Stay away from me!” Kara snapped, causing Flash to flinch backwards. He wasn’t sure if she had super-strength or other powers—he was under the impression that the Kryptonian atmosphere took those powers away, though he wasn’t sure how that played with the Earth-like gravity onboard the ship—but he generally preferred not finding out if she could snap him in half like a twig.

“Okay,” he slowly said, both hands held in front of him in a show of caution. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.” He put one hand on his chest. “My name is Barry Allen. What’s yours?”  

She glared at him as she stood up, though the effect was somewhat mitigated by how she intermittently squeezed her eyes shut every few seconds. “Kara,” she bluntly answered.

“Kara,” Barry tested the name out as if he hadn’t known that earlier. “Alright, Kara. I don’t mean you any harm.”

“Why are you here? How did you get here?”

“I… may or may not have snuck onboard your dropship.”

Kara frowned. “May or may not? Did you, or did you not?” Before he could respond, she groaned again with her hands held to her temples, falling to the floor in obvious pain.

“Are you okay?” Barry asked, concerned. He didn’t remember Kara having headaches or anything along those lines despite being de-powered in a containment cell for however long she had been locked up. “Can I do something to help?”

“My… room,” Kara grunted. “I have… medication.”

“Right,” Barry nodded, and he moved forward to scoop Kara up from the floor. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

She looked at him strangely, but the moment passed as he phased back through the wall into the corridor.

“Okay, where’s your room?”

“Do… down the hall. To the left. Last one in the corridor…” she trailed off, her eyes squeezed shut as she lay quite limply in his arms.

Without thinking, Barry sped according to her instructions, phasing right through the door of the last room in the hall once he hung a left, and they appeared in a what appeared to be a utilitarian, non-descript bedroom.

“Where?” he asked, laying her on the bed. She vaguely and wildly gestured, and he saw a small metal container with a row of small black orbs sitting in it. Grabbing one, he brought it over to her.

“Is this it?” he asked. She cracked open an eye and nodded. Grabbing her by the back and sitting her up on the wall that served as her de facto headboard, he slowly pushed the orb through her lips in an educated guess that it was orally ingested. That she swallowed it confirmed his assumption, and she lay back against the metal paneling for a few moments as the medication took effect.

“Whew,” Barry sighed, pacing back a few steps as he looked around. As per his initial assessment, it was an undecorated and gray room, all metal and angles, with the only standout burst of color being a folded outfit on a small table to the side. He approached it. On the front of the outfit was the same logo on Superman’s outfit, and Barry realized that it was the outfit that Kara had worn in the other world – or at least one that was substantially similar, if the colors and design were any indication.

“You never told me what you were doing on here,” Kara’s voice came out from behind him. Barry turned to see Kara standing already, just a few feet away from him. “Give me a reason why I should not alert everyone about the fact that we have an intruder onboard.”

“I’m… I’m a friend of Superman’s,” Barry decided to say. “I followed him onboard to make sure he was alright.”

Kara’s expression softened slightly, but she still seemed to be skeptical. “That is it? You followed Kal onboard because you thought he would be in danger?”

“Is… he not in danger? This is Zod’s ship.”

She had a quizzical look. “What do you know about Zod? He is not a danger to Kal.”

It was Barry’s turn to frown. After all, the Zod he remembered—from two different timelines—was nothing more than a bloodthirsty maniac willing to kill even his fellow Kryptonians like Superman and Kara if it meant achieving his goals. The genocide of the human race was hardly an afterthought for him. Was this Zod different somehow, even though so many other things about them and the Kryptonians had remained the same?

“I don’t—I don’t believe that,” Barry said, with some amount of hesitancy. “Look,” he continued, cutting off what appeared to be a retort from Kara, “see it from my perspective, and also basically everyone else’s on Earth. Literal aliens show up from outer space, ask in a very not-nice manner for the world’s greatest superhero, and now he’s incapacitated onboard.”

“And how exactly do you know that Kal reacted poorly onboard?”

Barry pursed his lips, cursing his big mouth. “I, uh, I have a commlink that hears everything he hears. I heard him, um, collapse.”

Kara’s eyes narrowed. “So, this was not just you, then. This is a larger conspiracy against us, and even Kal is in on it.”

Barry raised his hands defensively, sensing a little bit of potential danger arising. “Woah, it’s not like that at all, Kara. Really. We just… aren’t sure if we can trust you, and Superman agreed that he wasn’t sure either. He grew up here, Kara. He’s practically one of us.”

Kara sighed. “He is Kryptonian. We are his people. He belongs with us.”

“I’m not sure if he sees it that way. Doesn’t his choice matter?”

There was an inscrutable expression on her face, but Barry could sense that something he had said had pierced deeply into her heart and mind. He pushed his advantage.

“I understand that you’re his cousin and that you care deeply for him, but right now, Superman needs to return to Earth because that’s where… well, that’s where his home is. He has a mother and father down there too, just like he did on Krypton.”

Kara looked up and into Barry’s eyes. “Okay,” she whispered. “The medbay is two levels up. It takes up most of the floor. You cannot miss it.”

“I heard that,” Lantern said, his voice crackling to life in Barry’s ear. “Get back to the cargo hold and prepare for evac.”

“Thank you, Kara,” Barry said. He walked toward the door before stopping and looking back at her. “I’m sure Superman would really love to talk to you more about your family later.”

Kara looked down at her folded outfit and didn’t say anything in response as Barry phased back through the door and into the corridor.

“I’ve got Superman,” Lantern said. “On my way down.”

“Any trouble?” Barry asked.

“No. I waited until the doctor-looking dude left.” Lantern paused. “You are one hell of a sweet-talker, Mister Flashy-Boy. I have no idea how you talked yourself out of that one.”

Barry looked back at the closed door one last time before he sped off, not deigning to reply to that comment. Within moments, he was back down in the cargo hold, and soon enough, Lantern flew in, Superman contained in a green bubble along with him.

“Alright, get in,” Lantern said, lowering the bubble down to Flash’s level with a ramp descending into a make-shift rectangular opening. Flash acquiesced, taking a seat beside Superman’s unconscious form, as Lantern pried the cargo bay doors open to the vacuum of space. The crates inside the cargo hold buckled slightly but didn’t otherwise move as the atmosphere of the ship vented into space. No alarms even sounded as Lantern and Co slipped out, the conjured green hands closing the bay doors after they were safely out into space.

“Flash to Batman,” Flash spoke up. “We have Superman and are returning to Earth. Any changes in the ship?”

“Negative, Flash,” Batman’s now-familiar voice came back. “No change. It looks like your path back is clear.”

“Sounds good,” Lantern said. “We’re coming home.”

“Affirmative,” Batman replied. “We’ll debrief once you get back.”

Flash took one last look at the three-legged Kryptonian vessel before he turned back to the sight of Earth, quietly sitting as they reentered the atmosphere. The entire situation bothered him; Zod was… different than he had remembered, which frankly frightened Barry because it made the Kryptonian warlord an unknown quantity to him. Kara being there, though, was an unexpected turn of events, and that she seemed reasonable and even somewhat sympathetic to them was a heartening piece of knowledge.

The Justice League was going to have a lot to talk about.

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

Barry Allen.

It was a strange enough name to her ears, Kara thought, to be utterly alien. And in fact, to her, it was alien. As much as she may have looked like a human and a human like a Kryptonian, they were not the same species. They weren’t even from the same quadrant of the galaxy. Earth and Krypton were two vastly different planets, giving rise to two vastly different peoples.

But there was something that was altogether familiar about Barry Allen to Kara, and she couldn’t get him out of her head even though over a week had passed since his incursion onto Black Zero. That strange nostalgia of something that she had never experienced had coursed through her when she talked to him. Somehow, for some reason, that red blur and yellow-orange lightning that crackled off of his suit was embedded in her mind, tugging at the strings of something just beneath the surface of her consciousness.

Zod had barely cared that Kal had been taken away and that an intruder—or two, according to the ship’s security systems after the fact—had breached their base of operations. That was at least a little strange, though in all honesty, she couldn’t say that she knew the man well enough to say. Certainly, he had changed after she had been found by them; that much was obvious and expected, given that Krypton had been destroyed by the time that Black Zero exited the Phantom Zone after many human years. Apparently, they had been originally intended to exit their imprisonment after Krypton’s destruction, but a malfunction had kept them in stasis for much longer. Twenty-four of Earth’s years had passed before they had been returned to the real universe due to a mechanical failure in the Phantom Drive, and that was when Kara herself had been found and rescued. It had taken them another year to fix the ship, and when they had finally received the faint echoes of a Kryptonian scout ship, slowly—at least relatively so—making its way to where Krypton had once been, they had powered toward the source. The signal took years to propagate to them; they crossed that chasm of space in less than a week.

Kara wiped her hair down as she exited the shower, drying herself off. Absentmindedly, she noted with some curiosity that despite Krypton and Earth’s differences, they had somehow arrived at the same conclusion about something as basic as washing. It was at least a little odd how something like that had happened, though she wasn’t nearly qualified to talk about it. Perhaps if her father or uncle had still been alive, or even her aunt, who she had been told was quite the Thinker herself. They could’ve analyzed it academically, drawing conclusions from evidence that she wouldn’t have even been able to find or thought to look at in a proper xenological observation.

Remembering her family only brought sorrow, so Kara shelved those memories as best she could, dressing in a loose nightgown before slipping back into her bedroom. She briefly touched the crest of her folded skinsuit—the one that her uncle Jor-El had given her before she had blasted off of Krypton—and made her way to the bed. It was a utilitarian affair, hard and barely padded, but it sufficed for sleep, and at any rate, her back had always been fonder of a more solid surface to sleep on than a softer one.

Crawling under her sheets, she stared blankly at the dark ceiling, the only light in the room from the faint glow of soft lights inset into the metal paneling, barely bright enough to register to her vision.

Yes, Kryptonians were nothing like humans. Except that they looked the same, could breathe the same air – at least in one way, could eat the same food, and could live among each other. Her cousin, Kal-El, the Superman according to humanity, was living proof of that. From the records that they had managed to gather by tapping into Earth’s many scattered networks, he seemed to have been raised as a normal human by human parents. Scant information existed about him outside of various reports made by third parties, but it seemed like he was a relatively well-known quantity among the people of Metropolis, an urban agglomeration positioned off the eastern coast of one of the planet’s major political entities.

That was yet another thing that differentiated Krypton and Earth. Where Earth had many polities and billions of people, the Krypton of her memories had one city, Kandor, and less than a hundred million people. Earth was a flourishing, growing planet by comparison. In the back of her mind, she remembered Zod once talking to her about Krypton’s history, a conversation that was, in real time, many years in the past. How Krypton had once too been a flourishing, growing society, reaching out into the wilderness of space to see how tall it could stand amongst the stars.

Perhaps, Kara thought as her consciousness began to fade into darkness and sleep, they were not so different after all.

“Because… you need help.”

She looked off to the side for a moment in silence to process his words. There was a small but almost natural feeling of incredulity in her heart at the words. Nobody could be that kind. It just wasn’t possible. Not in her experience, not in this lifetime. Strangers didn’t help strangers for no reason at all. Yet there was something in his expression that was so genuine that Kara couldn’t help but believe him.

“Do you know what this symbol stands for?” she asked, looking down at her chest, where the symbol of the House of El was emblazoned across her skinsuit.

“Su…pergirl?” the second of the identical men hesitantly said, standing behind the first one.

“It means hope, right?” the first replied quickly.

“Hope, yeah, does it mean hope?” the second concurred, immediately switching his answer.

She almost wanted to smile at that.

Almost.

“Krypton was a beautiful… place,” she said, memories flooding with a childhood of joy and laughter and love. Parents that doted on her. An aunt and uncle who went out of their way to spoil her. Friends. She swallowed. “We are a people of hope,” she explained, shaking her head, “not war.”

She turned to see the many viewscreens to the side, playing footage of conflict. In them, she could see the tell-tale shape of a Kryptonian gunship firing indiscriminately. Explosions and fires filled the screen. On another, a Kryptonian prison barge loomed large in the distance, hovering over the skyline of a city.

“Zod may be from Krypton,” she continued, “but he is not my people.”

“So…” the second man slowly began, “you’re saying…”

“Yes,” she interjected. “I will help you fight Zod.”

Kara screamed as she awakened, pushing herself up against the bulkhead as a cold sweat dripped from her forehead. Her head was in complete and utter pain, a splitting torment unlike any she had felt before. She pressed her hands against the side of her heads in a vain attempt to press out the pressure, but it was no use. The agony continued, and the images of memories she never experienced split her mind.

One hand reached out to her nightstand, groping for the medication that Jax-Ur had prepared for her for over a year. It was stronger, much stronger, than the one that Glora had once procured for her on Krypton, Kara thought between bouts of suffering and flashes of a life she never lived, and it was so much more effective in dealing with the recurring headaches. Why though? Why now? She had taken one just last week. Another lightning strike of pain. No, no questions. Yes, she needed it. She couldn’t wait. It hurt. Ear-splitting misery a jumble of images—

she needed it

her hand felt the container and she grabbed

thoughts became jumbled in distress

the orb was in her palm

swallow it                                        

pain split her skull

she did not need to think

fighting against the currents of time

could no longer think

that was all she needed

all she had to do was eat it and it would all be over

a return to life

an end to this anguish

memories of another

no pain

only—

“I’ve got you,” a voice called out in the recesses of her memories. A familiar voice, yet one that she had never heard before. There was no one else in the room with her.

Kara crushed the medication in her hand with the sensation of it crumbling to dust in her palm, and she felt the back of her head smash against the bulkhead with a thud as she crumpled onto the bed and blacked out.

When she awoke again, the hull lights were nearly at full power, indicating that it was the local sunrise based on the geosynchronous orbit established by Black Zero. They had long since adapted to Earth’s twenty-four-hour routine so as to better work at the cadence of the humans and understand when they would be at work and when they would be off duty. Kara hadn’t slept in this late ever in her time on the ship.

Her black hair, damp from sweat, was splayed across her face, and she brushed it aside as she sat up. The residual soreness of her head, like the morning after a bad sickness, sapped her strength, and the back of her head was also surprisingly tender. Her body felt sticky despite showering the night before, and she gingerly crawled out of her bed and stood up.

A bout of nausea afflicted her, sending her tumbling to the metal floor. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out but a dry heave and cough. But even as she shivered on the floor, the memories flooded in. Memories of a life she had never lived. Memories of pain she had never felt. Memories of comradery she had never experienced.

And there he was, that one red-blur of a gap in her mind, now perfectly filled. Barry Allen, ever-present in her thoughts as a conundrum, was finally explained. The pains she had felt were finally understood. It wasn’t even the same Barry as far as she could tell, with this world’s version having a distinctly different lower face and voice, but in spirit all of the Barry Allens that ever existed may as well have been the same person to her.

“It’s all his fault,” Kara whispered out loud to herself as she saw conflicting yet complementary memories run through her mind. Which life had she even lived? “What did he do?”

She pushed herself off the ground and into the shower, relishing the cold water running over her body and hair. Even so, her mind was still focused on Barry Allen. In one lifetime, she remembered things so clearly – her childhood, growing up under the watchful eyes of her parents, before the end of Krypton beckoned. She had joined the Sword of Rao, had seen the mass protests that turned into riots. The Council had sentenced her to what they had believed to be death. And now… she was here.

Yes, that was the lifetime that she had lived, not the life of the Kara she could also remember.

No, that Kara had lived a different life. She was a young girl when it happened, when Krypton’s collapse became imminent, when Zod had rebelled and taken over. He had toppled the Council, smashing their forces into oblivion, and after she had been pushed into her pod by her frantic uncle, the first thing she remembered after waking up was the torture at the hands of humans. She remembered the rescue, how she had been brought out into the yellow sun for the first time and felt the strength flow. She remembered flying through the blue skies of Earth, like the Superman she had just met. Her cousin, Kal – she could remember, yes. She could remember in complete detail how Zod said he had killed—

Kara punched the metal paneling of the shower’s walls, leaving a slight indent in the alloy even as she drew a little blood on her knuckles. She shook with anger, a low growl rumbling out of the throat before she could even stop it – if she had even wanted to stop it at all.

Zod.

In her heart, she was conflicted between the memories—her memories—of the man she knew and the memories of a woman who had fought against Zod. He wasn’t like that, no. The Zod she knew would never murder infants and destroy entire worlds.

Would he?

Like a ghost, the voice of her uncle could be heard whispering in her ears, the faint echo of a distant conversation from a world long destroyed.

“Zod is not a man that takes things lightly, and when he does make up his mind, he is willing to go to whatever lengths he deems necessary to achieve his goals. Today, he achieved them.”

That day, Zod had indeed achieved his goals. He had shown his strength to the Council, tacitly persuading them to imprison—and save—he and his people from the destruction of Krypton. That much Kara could understand, despite her self-acknowledged political naivety. But the Zod from the other world was not the same Zod; no, that Zod was a warlord, a butcher of babies and plunderer of planets. He had scoured the stars for a world to feast upon, and when he had finally found it, he set to work building a new Krypton on the bones of billions. He had killed Kal, slaughtering an innocent infant for his own gain.

That wasn’t who Zod was, right?

Kara turned the shower off, lingering in the mist and damp stall for a little while longer as water dripped from her hair to the floor. She shook her head, flinging droplets out of her hair. No, despite their identical appearances, the two Zods didn’t seem that alike to her. But then again, she couldn’t really say that she knew him all that well. At least, not as well as her uncle or father had.

Drying herself up and slipping into a non-descript black skinsuit, she had almost walked out of her room before her eyes fell on the folded blue-red skinsuit, the symbol of the House of El almost calling out to her. She ran a hand over it. On Krypton, it had been the exclusive symbol of their family. But from Kal, she could see that it had become something more – it had become the symbol of Superman for the people of Earth. In a twist of fate, their family symbol had become a beacon for humanity.

She reluctantly withdrew her hand from the outfit and exited her room, her mind set with intent. The lift took her three levels up – not quite to the main command deck, which was still one level higher, but to the auxiliary logistics center, where Faora could usually be found during her on-duty hours. The sub-commander had taken her duties onboard quite seriously, at one point noting that Zod and his top deputies should never be on the same level in the event of a disastrous attack on their ship. Zod had largely waved away such concerns due to the sheer discrepancy in technological prowess between them and the humans, but Faora had still stayed on the lower deck as a result.

It was good that the arrangement was so. Kara didn’t think she could stand to see Zod’s face. Not yet, at least.

And when the lift reached the level and its doors opened, Faora’s back, complete with her flowing dark cape, was immediately visible in the middle of the room.

“Sub-commander Faora,” Kara spoke out, causing the older woman to turn to her.

“Kara,” Faora greeted. “You are later than usual today.”

“Yes, I… had some things to deal with.”

Faora had a slightly curious look on her face but otherwise said nothing.

“I require a dropship for my own use,” Kara finally said, steeling herself. “I need to speak with Kal.”

“Do you still believe that Kal can be persuaded to join us?” Faora asked, crossing her arms.

“He must. I am the last of his family, and we are the last of his people. If not with us, then who could he be himself with? I am sure that I can persuade him to see this truth.”

In her heart, though, Kara wasn’t sure at all. But Faora didn’t need to know that.

There were a few seconds of silence as Faora seemed to ponder Kara’s words.

“Very well, daughter of El,” Faora stated, nodding. “You will have forty-eight of the planet’s hours to persuade your cousin. After that, you are to return with or without him because General Zod will move to the next phase.”

“Thank you, sub-commander,” Kara bowed her head slightly. “I will return as soon as I can.”

Faora’s slight nod and turn back to face the viewport of the deck signaled the end of the conversation, and Kara slipped back into the lift. Instead of going down the number of levels needed to reach the hangar deck, though, she first keyed for the level back to her own cabin. Quickly entering, she took her red-blue skinsuit that her uncle had crafted for her and tucked it under one arm before she reentered the lift to reach the hangar.

When the lift finally opened again, she was greeted by the myriad of ships, ranging from the odd skimmer that had somehow made it onboard Black Zero before Krypton’s destruction, to a pair of heavy gunships. But what she was looking for a simple dropship, of which Black Zero had a half-dozen.

Walking toward the nearest one, she entered it and activated the controls, feeling the hum of its engines powering up and the craft lifting off the hangar floor. She gunned it, blasting off out of Black Zero at near the dropship’s top speed before realizing she had a major problem.

She had no idea how to find Kal.

Vaguely, she knew where Superman operated, but Kara decided that landing in a city would likely cause a negative reaction from the humans charged with the defense of the city. The continent he inhabited lay before her as she sped toward it from orbit, but it was a vast land. Finally, she decided to pick a non-descript central location within the continent. After all, Kal could fly on Earth, and there would undoubtedly be a response from him should she land.

When the ground approached, she reversed speed and pulled the dropship upward, bringing it to a near full-stop with only the slightest moment of acceleration on her body before the ship’s inertial dampers kicked in.

Kara found herself hovering above just about nothing as far as human civilization went. Grass, one of the primary local flora of Earth, covered the land in varying shades of green and yellow. Lowering the ship down, she activated her rebreather mask on and disembarked to see a land flatter than any she had ever experienced before. Krypton’s lands were filled with deep valleys and tall peaks, rocky in most places with the occasional flowing stream of water to break it up. Even where there had been flora, it was on rolling hills that would have dwarfed any that she saw before her. It didn’t even seem as if there was anyone living here.

A faint pop in the sky above alerted her, and she looked up to see a rapidly approaching object. Within a matter of seconds, a man dropped from the sky and came to a rapid halt a few paces away from her, floating in the air. His red-blue skinsuit shone in the sunlight, with the yellow of the crest on his chest becoming all the more apparent by contrast. His short hair fluttered slightly in the breeze.

Kal-El, the last son of Krypton.

“Kal,” Kara began, before another sound—crackling this time—took her attention away with a sudden turn to her right. In a second, the strangely familiar sound of electric motion came to a stop in a plume of dust, and Barry Allen came to a stop in front of her beside Superman.

“Am I late?” he asked. His eyes darted between Kal and Kara, lingering perhaps slightly too long on her for it to be entirely innocent. “Sorry, I was caught up—”

“It’s all good, Barry,” Kal said, his eyes never leaving her. “I’ll take it from here.”

Barry looked at Kara, and she felt like she was under scrutiny from the man, but nodding, he took off as quickly as he had arrived in another blast of electricity, leaving the two Kryptonians alone again.

“Kara,” Kal greeted. “What brings you to Earth?” It wasn’t exactly a cold tone, but it was relatively frosty and made Kara halt slightly. She hadn’t expected that a grand and warm welcome, but they were family.

“I came to see you, Kal,” Kara said truthfully.

“You keep calling me that,” Kal responded. “I assume that’s my name. The name that my birth parents gave me?”

“Yes, your parents, Jor-El and Lara Lor-Van,” Kara explained. “My uncle and aunt.”

“Jor-El and Lara Lor-Van,” Kal repeated, as if he was trying out their names. “I see.” He uncrossed his arms and floated down to the ground. “On Earth, my name is Clark. Clark Kent.”

A stray memory intersected in her mind.

“Clark is his human name.”

Yet another thing that remained constant between lives. One day, she was going to have ask Barry Allen about it like for many other things, but today her focus was on Kal – no, on Clark.

“Clark,” she said, mirroring Clark’s earlier repetition. She smiled slightly. “It suits you.”

Clark beamed a wide smile. “Well, it is my name. I think it does too.” He looked out into the horizon before turning back to Kara. “Do you want to meet my parents?” he suddenly asked. “My human parents, I mean. I think my mom and dad are probably home right now.”

“Yes,” Kara quickly replied. “I would like to meet them.”

“Great,” Clark continued. He frowned a little. “Can you fly?”

“In my craft, yes. Like you?” She paused. More memories of her soaring through the air like Superman through the sky—Earth’s sky, she now realized—filled her mind imagination. “I do not think so,” she finally responded. “But maybe I could.”

“Well, you can fly your ship this time, and if we’ve got time, we can see about whether or not you can really fly.” Clark grinned with emphasis on the last word. Kara nodded and retreated back into her dropship, powering it up and following Clark out back into the blue sky.

Soon enough, though, Clark motioned to descend, and she followed him down to a little human construction, ostensibly a residence. Taking care not to hit anything, she avoided the rows of what appeared to her to be crops and landed beside the strange metal contraption that sat outside the habitat. Exiting, she saw Clark standing beside the dropship as two older figures exited the door of the residence.

“This is my parents’ house,” Clark said. “And those are my parents, my Pa and Ma. Jonathan and Martha Kent.”

“Clark!” the woman greeted happily, running to envelop the larger man in a hug. “Welcome home.”

“Glad to be back, Ma,” Clark returned, positively beaming.

“Son,” the man—Jonathan Kent, then, if the woman was ‘Ma’—simply said, though his voice wasn’t cold like Kara had remembered her own father’s had been at times. “How’re you doing in the big city? They treating you okay?”

“Well enough,” Clark answered. “Can’t say I miss the noise, though. It’s always loud in Metropolis.”

“Oh gosh,” Ma Kent suddenly spoke up, looking at Kara. “Clark, you haven’t introduced us yet!”

“Oh, right.” Clark slung an arm over Kara’s shoulder and pulled her in toward him, which she acquiesced to despite it being a strange motion to her. “Ma, Pa, this is Kara Zor-El. Her first name’s just Kara. She’s my cousin. Our birth fathers were brothers.”

A moment of silence passed as the wind blew through.

“Cousins?” Ma Kent finally said, eyes wide. Her husband remained silent, looking at Kara. “Wow!” she exclaimed. “Well, you guys better come on in then so we can have ourselves a proper chat. I think we’ve still got a little left over from lunch if you’re hungry.”

“That’d be great, Ma,” Clark smiled, gesturing for Kara to follow. “Are you hungry, Kara? I know Ma says that it’s leftovers but trust me when I say there’s enough for a feast in there.”

In truth, she was at least a little curious about human food and felt a bit of hunger. “I do not think I can, Clark,” she said, tapping on her rebreather mask. “I cannot take it off.”

He frowned. “Are you sure? I mean, I’m breathing the air.” He paused. “Well, there was a bit of an… adjustment period when I was younger,” he admitted. “I’m not sure how that’d go for an adult.”

Kara simply nodded.

Ma Kent nudged her husband slightly. “Jonathan, stop gawking out here.”

“Alright, alright,” he said, throwing his hands up. “It’s just that this thing’s not exactly a Chevy, you know?” His hand ran down the side of the dropship. “It’s actually a lot like his pod.”

“You still have his pod?” Kara asked.

“Yep,” Pa Kent noted, his hands on his hips. “Towed it into the shed all the way back when he first landed. It’s been there ever since.”

She looked at Clark. “We might want to look at that.”

“Later,” Ma Kent’s voice came to her, in a tone of voice that seemed all too familiar to Kara despite never having met a human woman before today. It was the kind of tone that broached no dissent. “First, let me get some good, hot, and homemade food into you both.”

“Uh, I am sorry—“ Kara wanted to explain her mask, but before she could fully speak, Ma Kent had already disappeared back into the house. Pa Kent shrugged his shoulders.

“She’s like that,” Clark’s human father said. “Always has been. That’s why I married her.”

“Give us a couple minutes, Pa,” Clark spoke up. “We’ll be in soon.”

Pa Kent nodded and retreated into the house as well.

“I think you should take off your mask,” Clark remarked suddenly.

“Why?” Kara asked, though she couldn’t deny that she also had a longing to take it off. Despite it being temperature-controlled and mostly transparent, it was still uncomfortable to wear. She wanted to feel the natural air on her face, a sensation that she hadn’t felt since Krypton.

“Our…” he trailed off, as if struggling to find the right words, “species gains certain abilities on Earth. But we can live and breathe in its atmosphere. I don’t think you should be afraid of it.”

Kara hesitated slightly, but reached up to her mask nonetheless. She remembered the cacophony of noises that had come when she had finally been broken out of the prison cell in another lifetime. It had assaulted her senses, bombarding her ears with sounds from far away. But here, it was… quiet. Other than the wind, there was almost nothing.

Disengaging the clasp, she pulled off the rebreather apparatus entirely, letting it fall to the ground as she took her first deep breath of Earth’s air.

And immediately regretted it as she dropped to her knees in pain. Her eyes could see more than ever, and the very sight in front of her, be it her hands or Clark’s legs, flickered between clothing, skin, muscles, bone, and everything in between. She shut her eyes closed as hard as she could. Even out here, there were still so many sounds; she could hear Ma and Pa Kent inside the house, the announcement of something from a digital source, the sound of running water, the bubbling of fluids inside a tank, even the—

She felt a pair of strong arms clasp around her midsection and the sensation of weightlessness take over. Opening her eyes, she saw herself and Clark ascend into the air, high above the ground until the dropship and the house became tiny by comparison. Up here, there was far less sound, though she still shut her eyes again.

“Focus on my voice,” she heard, almost booming despite their close distance. “Focus only on it. Remember what it sounds like, and then find the right volume for it.”

She tried to apply his words. Slowly, his voice returned to what she remembered a normal voice would be like beside her. It still wasn’t perfect—her head ached from the effort—but it wasn’t as nauseating or disorienting as it had been.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Now open your eyes.”

Slowly, she cracked open an eyelid. Her vision still flickered between layers.

“Find one thing and focus on that,” Clark said.

Kara picked the crest on Clark’s chest. The lines and curves of the House of El’s symbol were something that she had grown up staring at, and now they were flickering between the skinsuit, the skin underneath the skinsuit, and the muscles, organs, and bones beneath that. She focused on those lines and curves, trying to see them and only them.

A few minutes passed, but eventually her vision did stop flickering as much between them. It was still not quite stable, moving in and out of focus and threatening to return to the multitude of layers that she had been able to see but not properly process before, but it was better. She could almost live with it.

“Great,” Clark said, noting her expression. “You feel better, Kara?”

“A little,” she admitted. “It is still not quite perfect, though.”

“And it probably won’t be for a while longer,” he replied. “It took me a long time to get used to it. I don’t expect you’d be able to figure it out instantly, even as an adult.”

They slowly descended back to the Earth, landing onto the ground in front of the Kent homestead. Clark let go of her and took a step back.

“Shall we?” he gestured toward the door.

She nodded and made her way toward it, noting that it wasn’t automatic and that she had to pull it open. Reaching for the knob, though, she crumpled it in her hands before she could open it, and then when she pushed, the entire door shook and came off its hinges.

“Oh,” she heard Clark say before her. “You’re going to need to be more careful. I’ve got the door.” He took the door by its sides, and once they were indoors, he put it back into the doorframe, albeit unattached. “I’ll fix it up later.”

“In here!” Ma Kent’s voice called out from another room. Kara made her way around the house, making sure to avoid bumping into anything, and found herself in a small room that was mostly attached to the kitchen beside. On the small table, various alien dishes were laid out, and Clark immediately took a seat.

“Any of them work,” Clark motioned to the seats. Kara took one beside Clark. He reached for a rectangular-shaped food that threatened to crumble in his hands, and he placed one on the plate in front of Kara and one on his own.

“Cornbread,” he explained, taking a bite out of his. “It’s a staple around this household. Homemade and fresh.” He devoured his in just a few bites.

Cautiously, she nibbled on hers. It was light in taste, without much in the way of offensive flavor. A little sweet, though there was a certainly flavor she couldn’t quite describe and had no analogue for in Krypton’s culinary ingredients.

“It’s made from corn, a staple crop here,” Clark explained, plating himself a second piece already. “Let’s see.” His eyes darted around the table, and within moments, he was scooping an orange-yellow gooey mess with objects inside, and what appeared to be shredded meat—if humans had a similar culinary practice with their domesticated animals as Kryptonians did—layered on top of a white, orange, and green bed of other ingredients.

“Mac and cheese,” Clark noted, pointing at the first mess of gooey food, “and pot roast with mashed potatoes, carrots, and celery.” He pointed out each of the components individually so that Kara could associate the name with the color and object. “For the mac and cheese, by the way, the mac is the pasta inside,” he picked up a little half-circle object from the food, “and cheese is, well—”

“We have—had cheese on Krypton as well,” Kara interjected. “Just… not in this form.”

“Well, I’d expect alien cheese to be a bit different, at least,” Clark said with a smile. “Please, dig in.” He picked up his metal utensil and began to prod, pull, and poke his food with it.

Mimicking his movements, she began to dig at the food, first starting with what Clark had called, “mac and cheese.” Some of the cheese dripped off her utensil, which was slightly off-putting in her opinion, but when she put it into her mouth and the mix of pasta and cheese hit her tongue, the savory flavor and creamy texture made her eyes light up almost instantly. It reminded her of a childhood favorite from Krypton, a common dish made for children. She took care not to rip off the front of the utensil with her teeth as she savored the food. Waffling the rest of her helping down, she preempted Clark by spooning herself another serving.

“Seems like someone really likes mac and cheese,” Ma Kent said, walking over after finishing with the dishes.

“Everyone can find at least one of their favorite foods on your table, Ma,” Clark replied, watching Kara almost inhale the contents of her plate.

The pot roast was almost as good – the meat was soft, tender, and juicy, with the assortment of vegetables making for a nice texture and taste contrast and the mashed potatoes a strong base for the entire affair. Sooner rather than later, Kara cleaned the last bit off, left her utensil on her plate, and leaned back in the chair with a satisfied groan. She hadn’t had food like that in a long while; Black Zero’s rations left much to be desired.

“There’s more where that came from,” Ma Kent noted, hands on her hips. “If you’re still hungry.”

“Thank you,” Kara responded, sitting back up in her seat, “but I am fine for now. The meal was excellent.”

Ma Kent beamed and took their plates back over to the sink. Kara turned to Clark.

“The pod?”

Clark nodded, standing up. “Sure, I’ll show you where it is.” When they got back to the front door, Pa Kent was already there with a box of what appeared to be tools, and he was replacing the metal hinges from where Kara had pulled it off by accident.

“Pa, I’ve got that,” Clark started, but Pa Kent waved him off.

“Go do the stuff you need to, Clark. An old-timer like me can still do this kind of thing.” He powered on a tool and removed a metal implement from the hinge.

“Sure, Pa. Thanks.” The two of them slipped past the older human man and back out into the front yard of the homestead.

“Over here,” Clark gestured, and she followed him into a neighboring shed. It was lined with various things on the walls that she didn’t recognize, and the middle of the space was dominated by another contraption that seemed similar to the one outside, but also different in its shape and design. Clark walked past the contraption and grabbed two wooden panels that Kara hadn’t even noticed inset on the ground, pulling it open and revealing a chamber underneath. He dropped in and she followed.

In the center of the underground space was the same pod she had remembered seeing in her uncle’s laboratory all those years ago. It was dustier than she remembered, and she was fairly certain it had a few dents it didn’t used to, but it looked largely intact to her.

“My parents said that after they had pulled me out of it, it closed, and they could never get it to open again. For some reason,” Clark said, “I can’t actually see through the pod, and I didn’t just want to punch my way in. I assume that the Kryptonian construction is different from that of Earth’s. Maybe the metal used?”

Kara ran a hand over it, looking for an external access panel. “Krypton’s metal alloys are denser than Earth’s.” Her hand finally caught on a lever, and she pulled it, revealing a small display that flickered to life. Seeing Kryptonian script in such a place, the middle of an alien world and far away from civilization at that, was strange enough. Navigating through, she finally found what she was looking for and stepped back as the pod’s entryway expanded. Almost instinctively, she reached for the console where she saw their house’s symbol sitting in the data port. She pressed on it to release it from the port, feeling the small thin data chip fall into her hand.

“What is that?” Clark asked as she brought it out and showed it to him, dropping it in his open hand to let him examine it. He ran a finger over the crest that adorned the top of the chip.

“A Kryptonian data chip,” Kara explained. “But to read it, we will need a working console. The pod does not seem to have enough power left.”

“I might know where to find one,” Clark stated, looking up. “But we’re going to have to fly there. I’m also not sure we want to show the military where it is, so you might need to leave your ship here.”

Kara frowned. “I thought you were working with the human military. And I already flew my craft to your parents.”

Clark chuckled. “It’s more out of convenience than anything for working with them, and I’m pretty sure that Swanwick already knows who I am, considering I can’t exactly escape all the facial recognition tech out there. But they also know what I am, and as long as I’m not a danger, they’ll leave it be. I’m not so sure they’ll exercise that much restraint if they realize there’s another Kryptonian ship already on Earth.”

“Another Kryptonian ship?” Kara’s brow furrowed. “We did not send anything to Earth before announcing our presence.”

“No,” Clark agreed. “I think it’s older. Maybe much older. Perhaps you can tell me when you get there.”

“So, are you going to fly me all the way to wherever you left the ship, then?”

Clark scratched the back of his head as he ascended out of the underground chamber. Kara followed him by jumping up and pulling herself out. “Actually, I was going to take the opportunity to see if maybe you could fly.”

Those memories of another Kara speeding through the air returned.

“I would like to try,” she admitted.

Clark beamed. “Great. Let’s get out of here first.” They exited the shed and stood beside the Kryptonian dropship.

“Now, I’m not entirely certain about the science behind it all,” Clark started, “but for myself, it took a little while before I could actually float. For most of my childhood, I was generally just jumping really high and far.”

“How did you make the transition to actual flight, then?”

He seemed to ruminate for a moment. “It was strange, actually. One day, I just felt it. Like a force around me, and when I focused on it, I found myself about a foot off my bed. Almost put my head through the ceiling too. There’s a sort of aura around me when I do lift off, and I can shape it into almost any form around me, speeding me up or slowing me down about as much as I want. And if I want to catch something big…” he trailed off. “Well, let’s just say I’ve saved my fair share of airplanes, and I definitely don’t think that I would’ve been able to hold those without them crumpling on themselves if it wasn’t for whatever this force is.”

Kara closed her eyes and reentered the memories of her other, past life. She remembered soaking in the yellow sun after being enclosed for so long. It had felt incredibly nourishing, rejuvenating after being in the darkness. And then it had just come naturally. That aura that Clark had mentioned. She could recall her feet leaving the stone railing, levitating above the ugly statues that had decorated the side of the roof of that big human residence.

“And there we go!” Clark’s jubilant voice called out, causing her to open her eyes. She was almost above the top of her ship, feet dangling limply as she rose into the air. He followed suit, rising easily to her height. “I’ll go slow, so just keep up and follow me, alright?”

Kara nodded, and without another word, Clark took off in a woosh of wind. She tried to track him as best she could, though even at the reduced speed he was flying at, it was hard for her to keep up. Once they had ascended to the point where the blue sky began to noticeably darken, Clark sped up even more, a faint pop could be heard, and a funnel formed around his thighs as he accelerated away from her. Grunting, she pushed herself as hard as she could, feeling the same effect around her as she also sped up, though even then, she still felt herself slowly falling behind him as the gap widened. Suddenly, he curved downward back to the Earth at a decelerating pace, and she sighed in relief as she followed in line.

Unlike where his parents lived, this environment was icy and frozen, a cold and barren land where no one lived as far as she could tell. Were it not for her Kryptonian powers on Earth, she would probably have been shivering; similar locales on Krypton had done that to her. Standing out from the mostly white landscape was a gray shape of metal, and she blinked as she saw the clearly-Kryptonian design. It wasn’t quite like any ship she had seen, but she also couldn’t quite call herself an expert in the history of Kryptonian ship design either. She came to a stop at an open ramp where Clark stood.

“You’ll get faster,” he said as she came to a stop, her feet touching the snow beneath. “I wasn’t that fast when I started to fly.” She nodded and he headed in with her in tow.

The interior of the ship was equally recognizable and foreign to her as they walked through the corridors. While of Kryptonian make, it was almost classical in its aesthetics, and it wasn’t at all the same kind of style that more modern Kryptonian vessels, like Black Zero, had. They turned the corner and arrived in what Kara assumed was the main hub for the ship’s operations, though it had been converted into something more resembling a makeshift home. A viewscreen with a seating arrangement dominated one corner of the room, while Clark pointed them toward a different wall that had an in-built Kryptonian console.

“Would something like that work?” he asked. “It turns on and hums, but I haven’t actually played around with it. Yet.”

“It should,” Kara responded, though truthfully to her, the console was quite antiquated in its design and somewhat foreign in its function. She could gleam out some familiar controls and the data chip port, but whether it was compatible at all was another question. “There,” she pointed at the port, “it should fit in.”

Clark nodded. “Alright, let’s see it then.” He pressed the data chip into the port, pushing it fully in with his palm. The console hummed and the lights above them dimmed for a moment, but then… nothing.

“Is that it?” Clark asked. “That was somewhat disappointing.”

Kara narrowed her eyes, looking at the console again. “It should be reading it. I do not know why it did not work.”

“It did work,” a familiar voice came from behind them, and the cousins spun around to see a man standing behind them.

“Who are you?” Clark immediately said, his muscles tensing under the skinsuit. Kara, however, placed a hand on Clark’s chest as she had immediately recognized the figure.

“How?” she whispered.

“Kara,” the vision of Jor-El greeted with a faint smile before turning to look at Clark. “I am what remains of Jor-El,” the projection continued as it walked closer to them, “and he was your father.”

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

“How’s work these days?” Barry asked, slowly sipping his hot cup of coffee so as to not burn his tongue – again.

“It’s good,” Iris West nodded, nibbling a little off the top of her muffin. “They’ve got me on a sports beat, so I’ve mostly been covering Central City FC and some other local teams.”

“FC?” Barry asked, before wincing slightly as he felt the hot liquid hit the tip of his tongue a little too fast. He blew a bit more on his coffee.

“Football club,” Iris explained. “It’s a growing sport for the city, and it’s really been gaining traction recently. A lot of new fans.”

“I see…” Barry trailed off. “And this is soccer-football, right? Not football-football.”

Iris laughed, a light sound that made Barry’s heart flutter a little. “Right, soccer-football. You’d have to go to Philadelphia if you wanted football-football.”

“I would?”

Iris tilted her head slightly. “You really have no idea about sports, do you?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that. I think I saw Ronaldo win Wimbledon recently, or something along those lines.”

Iris chuckled again, taking another bite of her muffin. “How about this – you come with me to see CCFC’s next game on Saturday.”

“Yeah,” Barry nodded, a smile forming on his lips. “I’d love that. I mean, I’d like that. Um, I’m down.”

“Sounds great,” Iris replied. She checked her watch. “Ah, I think I’m gonna have to head out. I’ve got a piece due at three to work on.”

“Yeah, no, go,” Barry said, hastily standing up and barely avoiding knocking over his own cup with a thigh bump to the bottom of the small table. “Don’t let me hold you up.”

“Thanks,” Iris said with a smile. “I’ll… see you on Saturday then?”

“Of course, I’ll be there.” Barry paused. “Uh, where is it?”

“I’ll text you the details,” Iris responded. She leaned in to hug Barry, who reciprocated and let go just as quickly so as to not make it awkward. “Bye!”

Once she left the coffee shop, Barry blew as hard as he could on his coffee and downed the rest in a single gulp, grimacing slightly as he felt the still-hot coffee flow down his throat.

He had to return to reality; there was work to do.

“You know,” Aquaman said, twirling his trident in one hand, “this place is kind of a dump. Like I get that your buddy is letting us use it for free, but seriously, it’s a dump.”

They—that being the five members of the Justice League—were back in the Wayne Enterprises warehouse in the Port of Gotham. Across the Delaware Bay, Barry could see the skyline of Metropolis in New Jersey. As far as locations went, it was fairly convenient for most of them, since Barry was a brief run away and Superman lived across the Bay. But he couldn’t deny that the warehouse was rather unsightly, even with the amount of equipment that Batman had moved into the space within the last two weeks.

Batman simply looked at Aquaman for a moment before turning back to his console. Aquaman, for his part, turned to Green Lantern and Flash with a sarcastic wide-eyed expression.

“It should be any minute now,” Superman spoke up. “Kara said it would be.”

“I don’t feel comfortable trusting her yet,” Batman stated in his usual deepened timbre. “It’s risky, at best.”

“She’s my cousin,” Superman replied, his tone slightly harder than normal. “I trust her.”

Batman half-turned to where Barry stood with Lantern and Aquaman, eyeing him out of the corner of his left eye. Barry simply nodded, and Batman turned back to the console.

“If you’re right,” Batman continued, “then this will be a good test. I’ve hardened my systems so that the Kryptonians won’t be able to break into them so easily like they did last—”

Batman was cut off by all of his viewscreens flickering to black, static crackling through their speakers.

“Wow,” Lantern remarked. “I haven’t seen Batman eat crow like that ever before.”

From Barry’s perspective, Batman’s glare in the reflection of his screen was enough to end Lantern’s life if looks could kill.

“Next time,” Superman said gently, placing a hand on Batman’s shoulder. The Dark Knight shrugged it off.

“I’ll have to cut back to the circuit board-level again and figure out exactly how they’re doing this,” Batman growled as the screens began to flicker to the same image. Vaguely, Barry could begin to make Zod out on the display, as expected. He stood in front of a wooden podium, which was a little less expected.

What was really unexpected was that it was Zod in a suit. Specifically, a human three-piece.

“Is he… wearing a suit?” Lantern incredulously asked.

“Yeah, that’s a suit,” Aquaman commented. “And for an alien, he looks pretty good in one.”

Superman frowned at them. “I’ll have you know that I look pretty good in one too, and I’m a Kryptonian just like him.”

Aquaman scoffed. “Look, you’re a good-looking guy, Superman – I’m confident enough to admit that. Probably better looking than my own mug. But you’re a kid compared to him, and you kind of look like one too. That,” Aquaman pointed at one of the larger displays with Zod on it, “is a man. He’s mature, he’s confident, and he’s rocking the crap out of that suit.”

“You are way over-analyzing it, dude,” Lantern spoke up. “It’s just what happens when someone who doesn’t have a beer gut like you puts on a three-piece. Stop drinking so much and then try wearing a suit.”

Any response that Aquaman may have conjured was cut off by Zod’s voice.

“Citizens of Earth,” he began, “my name, as you may know, is General Zod. I am the leader of the Kryptonian people. Our world, Krypton, was a planet much like yours very far away.” He paused. “It was destroyed, and we have been left homeless as a result. We have come across the stars to find our brethren, who is known to you as Superman, in hopes of finding refuge among the people that have accepted him. The harshness of my words the last time I spoke to all of you was the result of a long, arduous journey and the necessary caution that I have had to exercise to protect my people. Today, we appeal to you as fellow wanderers in a lonely and cruel universe, asking for the shelter of your world as we rebuild ourselves. Along with this message, I have sent a draft offer to the governments of Earth and to your United Nations of what we can offer to you in exchange for what we ask from you. As a gesture of our good faith, we will also be sending mobile supply teams to Earth to aid the impoverished regions we have examined. We hope that this will show our genuine wish for a strong and lasting bond between our peoples.” Zod leaned forward on the podium, a certain weariness and vulnerability almost visible from his expression alone. “We request a prompt reply, and we await at your collective leisure. Thank you for your time.”

The screens cut to black once more before flickering back to their original states.

The Justice League was silent for a few moments.

“Well, that was some Grade-A, USDA-certified bullshit,” Aquaman said.

“I think we can mostly agree on that, right?” Lantern commented. “I mean, these guys can literally fly across space and what, they just want to park on Earth? That’s too transparent.”

“I concur,” Batman agreed, spinning around in his chair to face the others. “It was entirely a ploy.”

Superman stayed silent as he pondered deep in thought. Barry, for his part, was unsure of how to react. This Zod seemed so different from the two Zods he had encountered before. The two previous Zods, for all intents and purposes to him, were basically the same Zod – a bloodthirsty killer who had come to destroy Earth for his own ends. Now Zod was dressed like a human and making peaceful overtures to humanity.

It was too suspicious for Barry to ignore, but it was also too different for him to approach like he had more knowledge than anyone else. Who knew what else in his memories was different?

“I think we should scope it out,” Barry spoke up, drawing the attention of the other Leaguers. He hesitated momentarily. “Well, you know, it’s just that we don’t have enough information right now. If Zod’s telling the truth, then maybe we have nothing to worry about. Maybe. And if he’s not telling the truth…

“We need to know what he’s planning so we can counter it,” Batman finished. “It’s like that his so-called ‘mobile supply teams’ are a front to move materiel and machinery that he needs to specific locations.” He paused for a moment. “It’s what I’d do.”

“That’s… a very reasonable plan, actually,” Lantern admitted, one white-gloved hand on his chin. “Very measured. Good thinking, fast-man.”

“That just makes it sound like he doesn’t eat,” Aquaman guffawed, “and I’ve seen the guy eat. He basically inhales a buffet.” Aquaman wiped an imaginary tear from an eye before sobering up into a more serious expression. “But I agree with Barry boy over here. He’s got a good point about our current information.”

Superman sighed. “It seems like that might be the only way to find out Zod’s true intentions.” He turned to Batman. “How should we do it?”

Batman was silent for a few moments, but before he could speak up, Barry said, “I can do it. I’m fast. I’ve got the best chance of not being seen by anyone.”

“I could just ask Kara,” Superman offered. “I trust her. She’d tell me the truth.”

“Even if we were to believe that,” Batman contended, “there’s no telling whether or not she’d know. Zod could, and maybe should, know that you and her are close. He very likely does know that you two are cousins. If I were him, I’d be keeping information siloed from her just out of caution alone.”

“So, I can do it, then,” Flash repeated. “I’m the best chance we’ve got.”

Batman nodded. “Agreed. We can keep Lantern and Superman nearby. And depending on the locations that Zod picks for his supply drops, Aquaman can also be on station. I’ll monitor and keep command and control from here.”

Aquaman shrugged. “Works for me.” He turned to Barry. “If you see a sign of trouble, just holler. We’ll bail your bright-red ass out.”

Barry cracked a crooked smile. “Thanks, Arthur. But I’m really hoping we don’t have to do that.”

Of the number of island nations that lay within the Caribbean, Santa Prisca was one of, if not outright, the poorest and most chaotic. Its history had been wracked with the worst horrors of colonialism, slavery, civil war, failed revolution, and in the modern age, the most extreme cases of political corruption and societal instability in human history. Its government had become an ineffective hotbed of dishonesty and fraud, its courts existed only on paper, and its streets were ruled by would-be warlords, gangs, and criminal syndicates. Its most famous exports were criminals and the compound Venom; both were courtesy of Peña Duro, one of the most violent prisons in the world. Foreign intervention would be seen as nothing more than the latest round of imperialism; domestic intervention was impossible.

It was in this sort of locale, then, that General Zod had decided to make one of his first overtures to humanity.

“We should call ourselves Justice League International, now,” Lantern remarked in Barry’s earpiece. “Because I’m pretty sure we don’t have jurisdiction overseas.”

“Overseas?” Arthur’s voice came online. “You don’t even have jurisdiction in America. Do you think we’re cops?”

“Keep the channel clear,” Batman’s voice came through. “Santa Prisca is one of the poorest regions in the western hemisphere, if not the world. Zod is doing this here because it’ll be a dramatic show of what he wants, and it also puts whatever materiel he wants to drop within a stone’s throw of the contiguous United States. Cuba, Mexico, the U.S., and Canada rejected all offers he made, so this was the closest he could get.”

“You think he’s doing this just to get close to the mainland?” Superman’s voice asked.

“He’s doing this to every major Earth-based power,” Batman explained. “His overtures have failed in many developed regions of the world, but the developing world has embraced his offer – North Africa, Central Asia, the Middle East, some of Latin America, and a good portion of central and eastern Africa as well. He’s positioning footholds beside every major power that could potentially retaliate if he decides to strike.”

“Geez,” Lantern whispered. “He’s spreading his influence everywhere.”

“He’s taking advantage of our existing discrepancies and inequalities,” Batman expounded. “It’s a systematic approach to divide humanity along pre-existing fault lines and pressure points. And it’s a brilliant strategy for war,” he begrudgingly added. “Flash, how close are you?”

“Just got past the tip of Cuba,” Barry replied. He had been running across the surface of the water from the Florida Keys for a little while, though it wasn’t anything that would tire him out too much. “I’ll be there pretty soon.”

“Once Flash reaches Santa Prisca and makes contact with the asset on the ground, we’ll cut off radio contact,” Batman continued. “The risk of communications interception is too high for this mission. We don’t want to run the danger of the Kryptonians listening in once Flash is on-site.”

Barry didn’t reply to Batman as he concentrated on running, and soon the horizon revealed land. Closest to him was the city’s port, past which rows of structures extended in dense clusters, and green rolling hills and small mountains beyond that.

The most noticeable and out-of-place object, though, was the Kryptonian gunship floating over Santa Prisca’s singular port. Underneath it on land, there was a flurry of activity, likely related to Zod’s activities. Batman had used his satellites—apparently it was a universal constant that he personally owned quite a few of those—to monitor the port, but there was little visible from orbit that was remotely suspicious, even with high-resolution cameras.

Barry changed course and shot past the port and through a beach before coming to a stop at the tree line. He was a couple of miles north of the port, though the gunship remained conspicuous in its positioning in the distance. The beach before him was sandy as beaches often were, with a few rocks jutting out here and there to break up the shore and the occasional worn-out and abandoned wooden boat.

“Superman,” Flash said, “you said we had someone on the ground? I’m not seeing them yet.”

“That’s funny,” a new female voice came online, “because she sees you.”

Flash whipped around in a three-hundred-sixty-degree motion before his eyes came to rest on a woman emerging from behind one of the derelict boats. She wore a gray button-up with rolled-up sleeves and a pair of khaki-colored shorts that ran down to the top of her knees.

“For someone calling themselves the Flash,” the woman continued, pushing a strand of shoulder-length black hair out of her face, “I would’ve thought that you were fast enough to scout out the place before running headfirst into it.”

“Ha,” Flash humorlessly chuckled. “That’s a new one. I really haven’t heard that before.”

“You’re going to have to switch up your tactics when they don’t work, Flash,” the woman teased. She held out a hand. “Lois Lane, the Daily Planet. I’m here on business to cover Zod’s would-be humanitarian mission, but I’m also here to escort you into the city.”

“Right,” Flash nodded, taking her hand. He hadn’t really interacted much with the past Lois, but the new Lois seemed to be rather similar in personality, though perhaps a bit more forward, if different in appearance. “I’m Barry. Barry Allen.”

Lois tilted her head slightly to the side. “Well, Barry, I hope you don’t tell everyone that when you first meet them. It could make keeping a secret identity hard.”

“It’s not a common thing and all,” Flash began to explain, but Lois cut him off with a wave of her hand as she pulled out a phone with her other.

“Our ride’s almost here.” She turned back to Flash. “You’ve got something else to wear, right? Because while I’m not going to criticize someone else’s choice of fashion, red silicone’s not exactly a discreet outfit, you know?”

“It’s actually a high-tech poly—” Another handwave from Lois cut him off.

“I don’t need the full science breakdown, right now,” Lois said, watching the nearby road. “Just change.”

Barry sighed as he entered the Speed Force and shrunk the suit back into its ring. Underneath, his clothes, which consisted of a white tee and a pair of shorts that had seen better days, clung uncomfortably to him from the sweat under the suit. He ruffled his blond hair—something that he still wasn’t used to despite weeks having passed since it had become his reality—somewhat in a vain attempt to make it look somewhat respectable.

“Contact with asset on the ground confirmed. We’re going dark, now,” Batman’s voice said. “Radio communications only for emergency backup. Good luck, Flash.” The commlink cut off just as a small jeep, a little less visually maintained than Barry would’ve preferred, pulled up to them, coming to a stop on the road.

“Lois!” the man in the driver’s seat, a tan-skinned man with dark hair and sunglasses on, yelled in accented English. “There you are! I’ve been driving up and down these beaches searching for you.”

“Gustavo!” Lois greeted back. She gestured for Barry to follow. “Thanks for the pick-up. This is Barry. He needs a ride into town.”

“Barry, eh?” Gustavo half-turned in his seat as Lois and Barry piled into the back row. “Brother, did you come out of a sauna or something? It’s humid, but not that humid!” The man chuckled as he turned back around, grabbing something off the seat beside him. “Here,” he said, tossing a raggedy towel whose color Barry would rather not speculate about backwards, “wipe yourself off, brother.”

“Thanks,” Barry replied, grimacing slightly as he patted himself down while holding his breath. Gustavo didn’t respond and simply gunned it, which in his jeep meant a ratty acceleration from zero-to-sixty in about fifteen seconds.

“So,” Gustavo spoke up, his eyes still facing forward, “you a journalist like Lois? Here to report on the big bad alien people?”

“Uh, yeah, something like that,” Barry said. Gustavo cupped his right hand to his ear.

“What?” Gustavo said. “I can’t hear you! My hearing’s been shot since the war!”

“Something like that!” Barry yelled, leaning forward slightly and also using the opportunity to drop the towel-that-desperately-needed-a-wash into the front seat.

“Just kidding!” Gustavo laughed, mostly to himself. Barry turned to Lois with a confused expression on his face, and she simply shrugged as she turned to the other direction to look at the passing jungle. “My hearing’s mostly fine. Mostly!”

The jungle on one side of the jeep and sandy beaches on the other soon turned into the burned-out husks of stone dwellings, and Barry could see them quickly enter what constituted the urban center of Santa Prisca. It was an impoverished land, indeed. Many were huddled outside of what had once been homes and buildings. Barry turned away. Two lifetimes had not prepared him for the depth of misery on display. And no amount of his powers could help these people, as much as he wanted to.

So, he kept his eyes averted. Instead, he focused on Lois, whose eyes were focused on the Santa Priscan people. Barry supposed that this was why Lois Lane was consistently an award-winning, world-renowned journalist; every version of her actually gave a damn when most people didn’t, and even when those few did, she went a step further and put herself on the front lines of the world.

“We… are… here!” Gustavo cried out, skidding to a stop with a swing of the car as they approached a broken fountain that had seen better days. “This is your stop, boy and girl!”

Lois patted Gustavo on the shoulder with one hand, slipping him a small wad of cash with the other. “Thanks for another ride, Gus-Gus.”

Gustavo made a kissing motion with his face as he held a hand up to his head like a phone, thumb and pinkie extended. “Call me!” The man revved the engine of his jeep off, taking off about as quickly as a ten-year-old Prius right after Barry stepped out of the car.

“Okay… that’s a weird guy,” Barry remarked, watching the jeep splutter away down the road.

Lois shrugged. “As far as mercs in Santa Prisca goes, Gustavo is one of the nicest, safest, and kindest you’ll meet.” She looked toward the west, where the Kryptonian gunship could barely be seen over the rooftops in the distance. “Let’s go.”

“It’s all relative, I guess,” Barry whispered, before turning to follow Lois.

It was a somewhat lengthy trek to port despite the nominal distance, the city being winding paths and blocked roads.

“The Kryptonians have been here for about two weeks,” Lois explained as they walked. “In that time, they’ve set up shop around the port district, mostly taking it over, making it their command center, and offloading a lot of supplies. Every other day, they set up distribution lines for food. It’s getting very popular among the locals, and none of the city’s power brokers have looked to intervene against the Kryptonians.” She looked up into the sky. “That gunship has been making routine trips as well, and they’ve had a consistent rotation of personnel on the ground as well. I assume it’s returning to the mothership to retrieve more supplies.”

Barry frowned, something about the whole situation nibbling at his mind. “I’ve been on that mothership, Lois. There was barely anything there. They can’t be getting these supplies from their ship.”

Lois turned to him slightly as they continued to approach the port. “Then where are they getting the stuff from? They’re shipping in crates of goods from somewhere. I’ve even seen them bring in a few shipping containers before, too.”

Barry felt that all-too familiar knot returning in his gut again. It was yet another change from the timeline he had known and from the Zod he had seen before. This was new, and that scared him. How could he possibly predict what this Zod would do?

“I have to check out their supplies,” Barry firmly said. “Whatever it is, when I see it, we can go from there.”

Lois nodded. “We’re here,” she said, coming to a halt in an alleyway at the second-to-last block of buildings before entering the port district proper. There was no one around them. “Just ahead, the Kryptonians have sealed off the roadways and set up checkpoints. This is as close as I’ve gotten, and it’s about as close as I bring you in. Good luck, Barry.”

“Thanks, Lois,” Barry replied. “It was nice meeting you. Stay safe.” As Lois turned and began to walk away, Barry pressed on the release for his ring and swapped into his suit.

“Alright Barry, you’ve got this,” he whispered to himself. “Let’s go for a ride.” He took off in a burst of lightning.

Instead of cutting down the road, however, he phased through the walls of the buildings in front of him, passing through the living room of a family sitting on a worn fabric couch watching a small television and leaving through the opposite wall. The next building was an empty derelict, and he phased through it without issue and found himself on an open road with shipping containers in front of him. To each of his sides, he noticed an armored Kryptonian standing at the ready, blaster rifle in hand, but neither seemed to have noticed him yet. Barry continued to run, lightning streaking behind him as time was virtually halted, into the rows of shipping containers, finally coming out of the Speed Force when he was safely out of view.

Around him, nothing seemed out of place. The shipping containers were rusty and probably in need of maintenance and a few cans of WD-40, but they were clearly human in manufacture. In fact, he didn’t think he saw a single Kryptonian crate in the design of the kind he had seen on their ship in Santa Prisca at all. The most exotic thing he could find were crates stamped with ‘Product of Bialya’ on the side.

The tension—and fear—returned. He was missing something important.

Barry phased his head through the walls of each shipping container, but they were all the same – foodstuffs, bedding and cloths, the occasional batch shipment of human electronics. Nothing was out of place at all. It seemed to be a perfectly normal port, other than the fact that Kryptonians were running it and a Kryptonian gunship was floating over it. He wasn’t even seeing the usual Kryptonian technology that he would’ve expected to have been brought down as part of their purported aid mission. The only thing that was out of place, other than the Kryptonians themselves, was their gunship.

“Barry Allen?” a voice called out behind him. He turned to see none other than Kara, clad once again in the combat armor with a rebreather mask on, standing behind him.

“Kara? What are you doing here?” he asked, turning to her.

“Me? I have been here for weeks, helping the people here. I think I should be asking you that,” she responded. Her hands were on her hips as she stared down at Barry. “You are not supposed to be here.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be here if Zod didn’t try to make himself the savior of Earth. What, you didn’t think that we wouldn’t find this whole thing suspicious?”

Kara shook his head. “This is not why I told Clark about it. We are doing good here. Did you know how many people are starving in this place? I cannot believe you and your people have let it go on for so long!”

Barry clasped his hands tightly, pursing his lips, for a brief moment before he let go. “That’s not the point, Kara. What are the Kryptonians doing here? Where has the gunship been going?”

“Gunship?” Kara frowned. “It has been retrieving supplies for the island. Nothing else.”

They were now mere yards apart, staring intently at one another. Her expression gave little away to Barry. Suddenly, her eyes widened.

“Faora, no!” she yelled, a hand raising up.

Barry immediately tensed and entered the Speed Force, but even with his speed, he still couldn’t move fast enough to dodge a marginally slower superpowered Kryptonian. He felt what amounted to a steel rod slam into the back of his head, and he went flying across the narrow corridor between the two rows of shipping containers and straight into Kara.

The last thing he felt was her arms warmly enveloping him as he collided into her.

Barry’s eyes shot open, and he sat up in the bed, taking stock of his situation as fast as he could. It was an unfamiliar location, but he wasn’t chained, shackled, or otherwise tied down like he thought he would’ve been. The room was windowless, and the gray concrete walls were bare save for the one opposite of Barry that had a television mounted.

The door, a solid metal affair, slid open, and Batman of all people walked in with a manila folder in one hand.

“You’re awake,” the Dark Knight stated. “Good. We need to debrief.”

Barry groaned and rubbed the back of his head. “Where am I?”

“A secure location,” Batman cryptically replied. “You were taken here after the fiasco blew up.”

“Oh, no,” Barry moaned. “Fiasco?”

Batman fished out the front page of a newspaper—the Gotham Gazette—and handed it to Barry. The big headline glared at Barry like a legal indictment when combined with the black-and-white image of a Kryptonian soldier carrying his limp and unconscious figure in their arms:

AMERICAN CAUGHT SPYING ON KRYPTONIAN AID MISSION

Barry swallowed. “Look, Batman,” he began, but Batman cut him off.

“Here’s another.” He pulled out a second frontpage, this time from the Gotham Globe:

U.S. MAKES PUBLIC STATEMENT ON SPYING CONTROVERSY: METAHUMAN NOT A GOVERNMENT AGENT

“The government had to publicly disavow your actions as a rogue agent,” Batman stated. “Swanwick has been on us for the last twelve hours, and suffice it to say, but he is not happy.”

“I’m sorry,” Barry whispered. “I shouldn’t have gotten caught. It happened so fast that I couldn’t even react. I didn’t see who hit me.”

Batman pinched the bridge of his mask’s nose with a sigh before pulled his cowl off entirely to reveal his face. “No, Barry, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have put you in that situation in the first place. As de facto team leader, that was my responsibility.” Bruce took a seat on a nearby metal folding chair. “I thought we were ready for this, but it doesn’t seem like we were.”

“How’d I get back here in the first place?” Barry asked. “I would’ve thought the Kryptonians would want to interrogate me or something like that.”

Bruce shook his head. “They held you for a photo-op, then transferred you to Clark when he showed up a few minutes later.” He pressed a few buttons on his wrist and the television flickered to life. “Then they proceeded to throw all the suspicion back at us instead of themselves.” The television played clips of human news crews touring the Santa Priscan port with Faora at the lead, pointing out food supplies and other necessities that they were handing out. “It was a trap, and we fell right into it.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Barry said as he shook his head. He ignored the throbbing soreness from where he had been whacked on the back of his head. “The situation doesn’t add up.”

“What did you see there?” Bruce asked.

“Pretty much the stuff they’re showing on the TV. Food, clothing, some consumer electronics. Bialyan exports.”

“Bialya?” Bruce suddenly said. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Barry nodded. “The markings were pretty clear about that.”

“Shit,” Bruce swore, the first time that Barry had heard that in any of his lifetimes. “I can’t believe I missed it.” He stood up and strode out of the room, and Barry decided to follow him, hobbling behind.

“Wait, Bruce!” he called out, but the man didn’t turn around and respond as he continued to stride away. “What do you mean you missed something?”

“I hyper-focused,” Bruce replied simply. They exited the concrete corridor into the larger chamber of what Barry recognized to be the Batcave. Bruce made his way to the large central computer, and he began typing as he sat down. “I’ve been looking at the wrong thing.”

“What’s the wrong thing?” Barry asked, looking at the displays. It showed interconnected webs and blobs of information that made little sense to him out of context.

“Santa Prisca. It was a decoy the whole time. The Kryptonians were never setting up anything there to threaten the mainland.”

“Lois told me that their gunship was making routine trips, but she didn’t know where,” Barry stated, trying to fill in any gaps that may have existed as he tried to grasp what Bruce was getting at. “She assumed it was the mothership. I didn’t think that could be the case because there were barely any supplies there to begin with.”

“She was wrong,” Bruce flatly responded. “The gunship’s presence was a mere decoy as well, designed to lure our attention because it’s one of the larger craft they have outside of their main ship. There.” The main display flickered to a world map, dotted lines appearing between different countries.

“What am I looking at?”

“Flight patterns,” Bruce explained. “I’ve isolated every flight path that human systems have managed to capture of Kryptonian flights. It’s not complete because it’s hard to track their craft, but it paints a complete enough picture.” He gestured to one of the dotted lines. “That’s the Santa Prisca resupplies. Lois thought they were coming in from the mothership, but that wasn’t it. The gunship was actually making resupply missions from Bialya.”

“I don’t get it,” Barry admitted. “What does that have to do with anything? What do the Kryptonians get out of importing supplies from Bialya of all places?”

Bruce turned to him. “Bialya is a Middle Eastern military dictatorship ruled by the crime lord Queen Bee. They have a particular affinity for importing cutting-edge weaponry. Which the Kryptonians can provide.”

It began to dawn on Barry. “So, you think that the Kryptonians are shipping weapons and other armaments to the Bialyans, and then moving Bialyan civilian goods to places like Santa Prisca?”

“Precisely,” Bruce nodded. He frowned slightly. “What I don’t quite understand is why. What do the Kryptonians get out of making an ally out of the Bialyans? They seem to have set up a base of operations there, but for what? There’s nothing in that desert, not even oil or significant ore deposits if the Kryptonians were interested in those.”

“Can you rotate one of your satellites over Bialya? So, we can see it better?”

“I don’t have to,” Bruce continued. “I have one in geostationary orbit over the country. There’s nothing out of the ordinary there – no Kryptonian ships, no Kryptonian bases, and no large industrial transfers. In fact, there’s no activity out of the usual, which is why it’s all the more suspicious.”

“Why is that?”

“Because we know for a fact from aggregated global data that Kryptonian ships have been coming and going out of Bialya,” Bruce stated simply. “My satellite would’ve caught at least something from that, which means that they’re using some sort of camouflaging technology to hide what they’re doing there. We need a man on the ground to figure out what.”

“I’ll go,” Barry said.

“No,” Bruce firmly replied. “Even if I was fine with you going—which I’m not—the risk of you getting caught and causing a second international scandal is too high. We’re operating on a razor’s edge as it is, and we can’t afford to shrink the thin margin that Swanwick has built for us.”

Barry was silent for a moment. “Kara,” he finally said.

“Clark’s cousin?” Bruce asked. “Are you sure?”

For a moment, Barry wasn’t sure. His knowledge wasn’t as secure as he had hoped it would be. But then he remembered her expression when he mentioned Clark, how adamant she had seemed when they met in Santa Prisca that Zod was there to do good for humanity. The sincerity in her eyes – that had held true between worlds.

“I—yes, I am sure,” Barry said. "I trust her, and she's already embedded in Zod's forces. They won't suspect her if she agrees to scout this out for us. And I think she will, if we sell it in the right way."

Bruce examined Barry’s expression for a moment, then nodded. “Alright,” he agreed. “We’ll rely on her as our woman on the ground. Now, how am I supposed to get in contact with her?”

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

Alegab was a city of only two million people, but the Bialyan capital bustled with far more activity and life than Kara had ever seen in Kandor. Even under the thumb of a brutal military regime and impoverished from living in a land with little to offer, the Bialyan people had somehow carved out a tough but persistent existence in a fruitless desert.

There was something about that she could admire. In some ways, it reminded her of themselves, the last Kryptonians that still survived. Against the odds, they pushed to survive and even thrive despite the destruction of their world. In others, though, it was remarkably different. The Bialyans, despite their difficult lives, knew where they stood in the world – they were at home.

Kara, like the other Kryptonians onboard Black Zero, had no home.

The bustling stalls of one of many of Alegab’s street markets was a sight to behold for her as she strode down the cracked concrete road. Despite the temperature control of her armor and rebreather mask, she could still somewhat feel the oppressive heat of Earth’s yellow sun, which was warmer than Rao, the red star of Krypton, had ever been in her lifetime. In general, Krypton had been a colder, less temperate world than Earth. Even so, the heat didn’t seem to bother the locals, who went about buying and selling wares, foods, and other goods as part of their daily routines.

There was a certain energy, a dynamism, that existed here in a fashion that Kara couldn’t recall ever seeing on Krypton. It was a captivating sort of feeling, one that kept wanting to walk the streets of Alegab and many other cities like it in search of the newest discoveries. One day, certainly, she wanted to try the wide variety of exotic dishes on offer, though she couldn’t lie that she was still partial to Ma Kent’s homemade mac and cheese.

Kara also couldn’t complain about the Sun, either. Despite its oppressive heat, there was still something soothing about it on her face. It was like the feeling she had when she had been brought to the roof of that house by the other, younger, and more verbose Barry Allen. She had felt the Sun rejuvenate her then, and it did the same for her now. Even a simple stroll down the street felt wonderful compared to a half-lifetime in near-perpetual darkness.

At the end of the day, though, she needed to return to reality. She was not here as a mere tourist to explore a new world or to soak in the Sun. She was not even here, in full truth, on Zod’s orders for the purported Kryptonian aid mission in this nation that the humans called Bialya. No, she had an ulterior motive, one that she had only reluctantly accepted because it had come from her cousin, Clark. She had received an encoded message from him about two weeks earlier, courtesy of the two-way communication channel that Jor-El’s projection had helped them setup. After a few days, she had requested a transfer out of Santa Prisca, which Faora had agreed to with little fanfare. Perhaps the sub-commander had thought that the Barry Allen incident had rattled Kara enough to grant her some leeway in her behavior.

Whatever the reason was, Kara had received her transfer, and she had found herself trading out the humidity of the island Santa Prisca for the desert heat of Bialya, halfway across the world. That was another thing that constantly amazed Kara – the diversity of ecosystems across Earth that humans had somehow found a way to live in. Kandor had been the last populated region on Krypton, and the vast reaches of the planet outside of the city had been considered uninhabitable by the time she had been born. Earth was not so – not yet, at least.

Kara had walked far enough to reach the edge of the city, the buildings growing lower and less dense until they began to turn from modern concrete structures into dustier-looking cobbled-together constructions and finally into wooden homes. When there was no one left, she pushed off with one foot into the air, feeling the familiar force envelop her and propel her upwards instead of downwards in line with gravity.

Flying was always a pleasurable experience for her, even though she couldn’t feel the air run through her hair and on her face. Soaring through the air, she kept relatively low to the ground and skimmed over the valleys and hills that dotted Bialya’s deserts. When Clark had contacted her, he had given her a set of coordinates—a human invention used to map out Earth in a grid-like pattern—that he had mentioned seemed suspicious. As far as she knew, there was nothing out there even remotely related to the Kryptonian mission to Bialya, but she had memorized its heading from a map nonetheless and plotted out an efficient and discreet course to reach it. She figured that if there was something out in the desert, she would know it when she saw it.

Kara came to a sudden halt, turning upright in the air as she decelerated to a stop. Indeed, she could most definitely see it.

Gigantic panels had been erected in the desert, with the four triangular pieces almost flat about a third to a half-kilometer in the sky. It would have been obvious to anyone to see had it not been for the twin facts of it being in the middle of a deadly desert far beyond where any human could live and the neighboring rocky cliffs and hills largely obscuring a lateral view of the structure. The tops of the panels were constantly in flux, shifting slightly with the surrounding desert sand to blend in and create a camouflaging effect; even with her own eyes in person, Kara could have easily missed it if she had flown overhead without knowing that something was there.

Underneath the panels was where it got even stranger to her sight. The structure—which was the best way she could describe whatever it was hiding beneath the panels—that stood underneath was smaller than Black Zero, but its distinctive three-legged design was still highly reminiscent of Kryptonian design, though Kara had no idea what it was supposed to be. Even as it sat under the panels, black-colored flowing arms of flexible Kryptonian hydro-frames swarmed around the construction, inserting paneling into place and emitting lasers to weld together components.

Around the entire site was a flurry of activity. At least a dozen Kryptonians, clad in armor just like her and armed with blaster rifles unlike her, patrolled the perimeter, and a gunship—the second of the two from Black Zero, she absentmindedly noted, with the other still above Santa Prisca—hovered just off to the side, still under the protective shade of one of the nearly-horizontal panels. Kara floated down to the ground and began to walk toward the site. The only way she was going to get a better idea of what was going on was to get closer. Her hope was that in her armor, no one was going to look twice at her about it.

That hope was confirmed as she passed by one of the patrolling guards without issue; he hadn’t even looked twice at her as she walked up to the side of the structure being pieced together. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied stacks of crates in large piles under the protective cover of the panels. Still, whatever the structure was, it was far too large to have come from those crates alone. No, the construction was extensive enough to require new metals and new mining efforts; perhaps there had been mining equipment stored aboard Black Zero when it had been placed in the Phantom Zone. And none of that explained the lingering question of what the structure was meant for. Clearly, though, it couldn’t be anything good for the humans if Zod was trying to hide it, which—in Kara’s begrudging opinion—didn’t bode well for her thoughts on the matter. This seemed more like something the Zod of the past life she remembered would do rather than the Zod she remembered from Krypton.

“Kara Zor-El,” a familiar voice called out, causing her to turn around to see the man himself. Zod was flanked by two Kryptonian guards, their rifles still lowered. That was of little comfort, though, given the cold expression on the Kryptonian general’s face. “What are you doing here? You are supposed to be in the human city.”

“I followed some of the convoys out this way,” Kara explained, searching quickly to piece together enough half-truths with her lies to pass muster. She also quietly tapped a command on her wrist-bound communicator – a beacon for help. “I was not sure where they were going and was not sure whether they were supposed to be going elsewhere, so I followed them and ended up here.”

Zod was silent for a moment. “Kara,” he finally said. “You haven’t changed at all since we first met, all those years ago, in Kandor. Do you remember that day? You had come to visit the Council with your father, who so wanted to present you as the future of your house.”

“I do,” Kara replied, her brow furrowing in mild confusion. “But why?”

“That day,” Zod continued, his hands clasped behind his back as he walked to the side, “I saw a promising young woman who had the potential to be great. Someone who had much to give to the future of Krypton.” He stopped, turning his head to her. “But Krypton no longer exists, which leaves us not only without a home, but without a purpose until we can recreate Krypton. That is what we are here for, is it not? To rebuild Krypton.”

“How?”

Zod sighed. “You are too young, I suppose. There are many things you do not know, many more things that you do not understand. You were not taught of our history and how we once spread ourselves amongst the stars.” He suddenly had a strange look on his face. “Are you still that same Kara Zor-El, the one that I met that day in Kandor? Or have you always like this, and I was simply too blind to see it?”

“I… I do not understand, General,” Kara hesitantly responded. Zod’s words were confusing and almost nonsensical to her.

“You have lied to me more than once today,” Zod stated, unclasping his hands. “I would have thought that you could struggle through as I have, to set your mind in place as the master of your memories and do what needed to be done, but it seems that is not the case. No matter.” He gestured and the two guards raised their blaster rifles at her. “Now, I will ask you one more time: why are you here, and who sent you?”

Kara bit her lower lip and pushed off the ground as hard as she could, cracking the earth beneath her and shooting right through one of the camouflaged panels that hid the structure. She pulled off her rebreather mask and tore off her armor one piece at a time, grunting as her senses were assaulted thanks to the augmented capacity they were granted by Earth’s nourishing atmosphere. Still, she cared little about that – she needed every advantage to escape. Stripping down to her black skinsuit made her lighter and faster in the air, even if only marginally so, and the armor would do little at this point.

“After her!” she heard Zod yell as she took off.

Behind her, she could see the gunship that patrolled the structure blast off hot on her heels, and its main gun began to fire on her. Thankfully for Kara, she was much smaller and nimbler than even the highest-performance skimmers on Krypton, and the gunship was far too slow in comparison. Coming to a stop and turning around to face the gunship, she blasted toward the craft and punched when she reached its hull. Her mind returned to another memory—a recollection of punching similarly through a human missile—but she ignored it as she felt the shields crumple beneath her might and the alloy hull likewise give way. The pilot of the gunship screamed as he was ripped his seat by the force of Kara passing through the gunship in its entirety, shearing the entire craft in half as it exploded in mid-air.

Kara floated there for a few moments, breathing heavily as she saw the debris of the gunship fall to the ground in flaming ruins. A soft boom caught her attention, and she looked up to see a figure speeding toward her with both arms extended. Her eyes widened as she realized that it was Zod, bereft of armor and rebreather mask and clad only in his black skinsuit.

Before she could properly react, he reached her and grabbed her by the shoulders, spinning Kara around in a circle before flinging her into the distance. Unable to control herself, she crashed through the rocky cliff of a plateau and into the desert beneath, struggling to pull herself out of the sand as her body ached from the collision.

“I am disappointed, Kara,” Zod stated as he floated down to her level a little distance away. “I had high hopes for you. I thought that you, of all people, would understand why I must do what I do.”

“I do not know what you are doing, Zod,” Kara groaned, standing up, “but if you are doing what I think you are doing, then you have to be stopped.”

“Earth will be the new Krypton, Kara,” Zod replied, walking toward her calmly. “The only question that remains is whether you will be a part of it. Right now, you sound like a traitor to your own people. Is that really the path you want to walk down?”

“There are billions here that you are condemning to death,” she retorted.

“Billions of what, Kara? Humans? They are nothing to me. I would sacrifice a million of them if it meant that one more Kryptonian life could live, and I would gladly give them all for the rebirth of our world. And this time, I will do it properly.” His strike came hard and heavy, sending her tumbling even further away. Before she could push herself back up, Zod was there, throwing another punch into her and slamming her into the ground. Lifting her up, he threw her into side of the nearby rocky cliff and followed that up with more blows to her mid-section. Her eyes were wide as she gasped for air amidst the pain and the attacks, but Zod gave little reprieve.

Finally, he reached out like lightning and grabbed Kara by the throat before she could even react, picking her up as she spluttered for breath, her arms flailing almost futilely against his iron grip. “Where is the Codex, Kara? I know you do not have it within you now. Is it in Kal-El? Is that where Jor-El has hidden it?”

Kara felt complete and utter fear in that moment, that cold sensation running through her body and into the tips of her limbs. “K—Kal,” she whispered, barely able to breathe. “He will stop you.”

Zod frowned, squeezing a little tighter. “And where is he? How is he going to help you if I snap your neck in my—”

“He’s right here, General,” Clark’s cold voice came from behind Zod, and the Kryptonian general turned only in time to see Clark’s fist shoot out like a speeding bullet and catch him in the jaw. The force of the punch was such that it caused a shockwave that rippled out and cracked the nearby rocky plateau—what was left of it after Kara was flung through it—and caused Zod to go flying in the uncontrolled sense. Kara, on the other hand, was sent the other direction as Zod lost his grip on her throat, but before she could collide into the ground, she found herself in the arms of her cousin.

“You okay?” Clark asked, a small smile on his face. “I hope I got here in time. I was a little busy when I heard the call.”

Kara’s throat was sore and she was still struggling to catch her breath, so she simply nodded. Clark looked up and past Kara to where Zod was. Already, the older Kryptonian was pushing himself up to his feet. Behind Kara’s head, she could hear the incoming footsteps of other Kryptonian soldiers, more of Zod’s men coming to the aid of their general.

“The odds don’t look good,” Clark admitted. He looked at Kara. “I’m gonna get you to safety, and we’ll regroup from there.”

Without waiting for a response, he took off at a much faster acceleration than Kara had ever consciously experienced. In addition to the usual pop that came with passing the sound barrier, a vapor cloud formed around them and burst almost as quickly as Clark passed the well beyond transonic speeds. The earth, far beneath them at that point, zipped across in almost a blur, changing rapidly from the deserts and cliffs of Bialya to plains and then finally into open water. Soon enough, they were back over land, flying across green pastures and forests until they reached familiar yellow fields. Kara began to feel fatigue set into her bones as she tried to stabilize her breathing. The Kent homestead rapidly approached as Clark came to a full deceleration on the front porch of the wooden home.

Before Clark could reach for the door, it swung open with Pa Kent standing at the threshold.

“I just fixed this door,” Kara heard Pa Kent say, “so I’m not gonna let—is that Kara? Get her in here.”

There was some shuffling and soon enough, Kara found herself on a rather comfortable, if small, seating arrangement, a heavy blanket draped over her just as quickly.

“Can you hear me, Kara?” Clark asked.

“Ye-yes,” Kara whispered, her voice much hoarser than she remembered it being.

“Jonathan, what’s going on? Is that Clark? I forgot to tell him that Kara left her, um, Superman suit with us last time.” Ma Kent’s voice came from behind the couch. “Clark? Oh my God, Jonathan – her neck!”

“Just rest,” Clark said, distracting her from the Kents’ conversation. His eyes never left her. “You’re safe here. You can sleep. I’ve already contacted the others.”

Kara tried to stay awake, but between the weariness that had settled deep into her muscles and bones and the pain of aches across her body and around her neck, she decided that staying right where she was constituted a more comfortable decision. Soon enough, she let her eyelids droop down and finally close, and she felt the tension fall out of her body entirely as she fell asleep.

“Barry, I honestly have no idea about anything regarding the multiverse,” Bruce said, leaning forward from his leather recliner, “or this… ‘Speed Force,’ so all I can offer is speculation.”

“Speculation is good,” Barry nodded, holding up both of his fingers in front of him like an American football goal post as he sat on the edge of the sofa facing Bruce. “I’ll take your speculation over, um, what I’ve got, which is absolutely nothing right now.”

“You feel slower than you used to, and apparently this,” Bruce gestured up and down at Barry as he took a slow sip of from his steaming cup of tea, “is not what you used to look like, as far as you say. If I had to guess—which I unequivocally am, with virtually no basis—then I’d say that crossing universes has inhibited your connection to this Speed Force dimension. We’ve certainly ruled out a number of other possibilities.”

Indeed, they had. Over the past few days, Barry had made so many trips between Central City and Gotham that the grumpier, new Alfred had given up and just made the spare bedroom that he had recuperated in once before into Barry’s own de facto personal room. In claiming ownership of the room, Barry had even taken to leaving a toothbrush in that room’s en suite – on a permanent basis too, assuming Alfred didn’t throw it out.

In that time, Bruce had examined the suit that the other Bruce had once made for Barry. As far as Barry could tell, nothing about it had changed other than having a few more nicks and scratches than it once did, but Bruce had wanted to test it and see if it was perhaps the cause of Barry’s speed complaints. They had also tested Barry’s reaction to battery of different chemicals to examine whether the universe cross-over event had somehow changed his physical composition. As it turned out, neither of those had been the case, which left Barry back at square one.

Bruce rubbed his chin for a few moments in contemplation. “What do you remember of crossing over?”

Barry leaned back into the sofa, feeling himself sink into its soft leather cushions. He closed his eyes, trying to push his way into those memories that seemed all too distant for some reason. “I… I—I’m not sure, honestly. I remember…” He remembered many things – too many things, if he were to be honest, that he perhaps would’ve rather forgotten. Bruce and Kara, dying over and over. The ‘chronobowl’ of that world’s timeline. The younger Barry turning mad and declaring himself to be the ‘Anti-Flash’ against him. Speeding against him into the past. Maneuvering his would-be past self into killing their own mother.

Barry flinched at that particular memory.

And then what had happened? He remembered… running. Running faster than he ever had before. Faster than when in the Kryptonian ship to resurrect Superman. Faster than when he had reversed time at Pozharnov against the might of the Unity of the Mother Boxes. Even faster than when he had gone back in time to save his mother in the first place. The Speed Force had flowed so freely then, igniting every nerve in his body with the coursing lightning as he rushed through space-time. Every muscle in his body was on fire—an unusual feeling in and of itself since he didn’t normally feel that kind of physical fatigue in the Speed Force unless he had been running a lot—as he fought against the inevitability of an ending timeline.

Then there was nothing. Just faint echoes: screams, yells, and emotions that he could somehow feel, pouring out of the collapsing timeline and into him. There was anger, hate, fear, and so much more. It had felt like there was extra weight holding onto him, but instead of the weight pulling him back, he had pulled it forward with him through the Speed Force. And the next thing he remembered was waking up on his bed, screaming into his pillow.

“Barry?” Bruce’s voice called him back to reality. The billionaire vigilante had a concerned expression. “You still with me?”

“Yeah… yeah, Bruce, I’m still here. Mostly.” Barry responded. “I just, I can’t quite remember anything after a certain point. There’s a, a gap, or something. Like a hole in my memory between when I started to run and when I ended up here. I can only remember some sounds, some feelings, and a sensation like I was being pulled back.”

Bruce blinked a few times in silence. “I’ll have to be honest – I have no idea what to think about that.”

“Neither do I,” Barry admitted, “and I’m the one who was actually there. And now I’m wondering where the Barry who was here,” he gestured to himself, “went, too. Like, did I become him? Did I kill him? Did I ship him off into a different timeline? Is he in my original body now?”

“Well, since you mentioned how you have all of the memories—minus the ones in the gap you mentioned—of two different Barry Allens, I would suggest that perhaps you two… merged. Purely my speculation, of course.”

“That sounds at least a little disturbing. That’d be like me being a…” Barry gestured wildly, “a Barry soup or something. Like you took old Barry and new Barry and then mixed us up into a dish.” He paused. “Wow, that was a really weird analogy. I probably shouldn’t say that again.”

Bruce nodded. “I’d agree. On all of that. But it does bring up the possibility that you’re not quite you anymore, if you get me. That you’re not the same Barry Allen who started running, and you’re most definitely not the same Barry Allen who was here before you got here.”

“That’d… make sense, yeah. But I don’t feel all that different.”

Bruce shrugged. “Honestly? I couldn’t tell you. I have no idea what you were like before you got shuttled between universes. But if you think that maybe the way you approach things has changed, or maybe you feel more confident or cowardly, funnier or duller in personality – well, that’d suggest that you’re not the same.”

A stray memory crossed Barry’s mind. “That’s mad trippy.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Yes, that’s certainly… one way of putting it. And I’d guess that whatever issues you’re having with speed is related to whatever you don’t remember. Again, I’m no expert, but I’d assume that crossing over entire universes could be a traumatic event.” He eyed Barry seriously. “And not just physically, but mentally too. Don’t feel like you can’t talk to me or, hell, Alfred if you need to. He might look intimidating, but he’s really a cuddly teddy bear on the inside.”

The thought of this Alfred being friendly and hugging him sent a small shiver down Barry’s spine. That was a slightly cursed thing to imagine.

“In this line of work,” Bruce continued, interlacing his fingers and putting his chin on it as he placed his elbows on the top of his thighs, “keeping good mental health is as important, or perhaps even more important, than physical health. I have access and resources to some of the best therapists and psychologists in the country. If you need that care, you have to let me know.”

“I will, Bruce,” Barry responded, genuinely grateful. “Thanks.”

Bruce nodded. Before he could speak up again, though, a beeping emitted from his phone. He pulled it out of his pocket and checked it, looking up at Barry with an expression that Barry could assume was not a ‘Bruce Wayne’ look but rather a ‘Batman’ look.

“Time to go,” Bruce said, his voice already starting to shift downward into the Batman timbre. A bookshelf sliding reveal and elevator ride later, and the duo were in the Batcave. Alfred was already down there, working on what appeared to be a suit of armor on an operating table on one of the adjacent platforms to the main computer hub.

“Master Wayne,” Alfred grunted out as he finished a weld and lifted up his hood, “I was down here when I saw the alert. It was a good thing that I was already preparing the mechanical exosuit because the nature of the alert suggests that you may prefer it.”

“Is it ready?” Bruce asked, moving toward a small alcove where several identical or near-identical Batsuits were stored.

“Generally, sir,” Alfred responded. “There may be some issues with the software, but I can try patching it on the go.”

“Wait,” Barry finally asked, having stood around for a few minutes without anything to do. “What’s the alert about?”

Bruce pulled on his cape, completing his Batman outfit sans the cowl. “It’s Zod. He’s making his move.”

Barry took a deep breath and zipped into his suit without another word. The fateful day he had feared had finally arrived. This Zod had already deviated from what he remembered in his own timeline and even in the altered timeline, but in the end, it seemed like every version of Zod was fundamentally the same. They were all hellbent on destruction for Earth and humanity.

The only thing he could hope for was that this Justice League would be enough to meet the threat.

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

“Without Arthur here, it’s oddly quiet,” Green Lantern noted. “He really did have a big personality that could fill up any space. And he was right – this place is kind of a dump.”

“I can still hear you,” Aquaman’s voice came from the display. “I’m in the Pacific, not dead. Punk.”

“It’s almost like I can hear his voice,” Lantern continued, wiping a faux tear away from his green eye-mask. “Taken from us too soon.”

“I’m almost tempted to not join the attack if it meant that his big mouth finally shuts up,” Aquaman muttered. A woman walked into frame of the camera.

“Arthur!” the woman scolded. “If you did that, Atlantis would be at risk too.”

“Yeah,” Arthur grumbled. “You’re right.”

“And who might this be,” Lantern said, in a manner that Flash thought only an idiot could believe was suave. “Hello, beautiful.”

The woman sneered at him. “That’s Queen Mera of Atlantis to you, surface-dweller.”

“Enough, Lantern,” Batman said firmly. The Dark Knight was seated and clad in heavy power armor that covered the lower half of his face in a drastic departure from his usual attire. His voice, as a result, was mechanically modulated, making him sound more like Darth Vader than his usual gruff tone. “We don’t need to be antagonizing our allies.”

“Sorry, Bats,” Lantern meekly responded. “I was just having a little fun.”

A great swoosh of wind ended whatever reply anyone else could have conjured up, and in the center of the warehouse that had quickly become the makeshift Justice League headquarters, two figures landed. The first was Superman, which was expected. The second was Kara, which was unexpected even for Barry. She was dressed in the red-blue outfit that Barry remembered her wearing in the other timeline – the blue running all the way up to her chest, where it turned into the red and flowed through her shoulders and into the cape. The suit ran up half the length of her neck, but it didn’t hide what he saw.

What stood out to Barry was the ugly mess of bruises that covered her neck. They were already beginning to fade, but they were still prominent enough to be immediately noticeably. Instantly, he felt a rising anger within him.

“Who did that?” he asked, almost knowing the answer before it came.

“Zod,” Kara replied, her voice still somewhat hoarse. “I fought him… and I lost.”

“Jesus,” Lantern whispered.

Barry clenched his fists. Once again, he hadn’t been enough. He hadn’t paid enough attention. He didn’t watch out for this world’s Kara like he hadn’t for the Kara of the past world, and she had almost paid the ultimate price for his negligence like the other one had. That painful feeling in his gut returned, that contradictory ball of fear, hate, and anger that was becoming all-too-familiar now.

“I got there just in time,” Superman’s voice called out, piercing the veil of darkness that had settled in Barry’s mind. “If I was just a little slower…” he trailed off. “I don’t want to think about that, honestly.”

“You arrived fast enough,” Kara whispered, clearly trying not to strain her voice. “And I will heal quickly.”

“The point is that it shouldn’t have happened in the first place,” Barry said firmly, causing both Kryptonian cousins to turn to him. “Zod is an animal, and we need to put him down like one. Otherwise, he’ll do the same thing to all of us and every human that lives on this planet.”

Superman had a slightly disturbed expression on his face from Barry’s words. “I don’t know if we should be talking about murder, Barry. Zod is evil, but even evil men face justice. If we kill him, what are we saying to the world about ourconduct?”

“What court can judge him, Superman?” Barry said. “What cell can hold him? He’s a Kryptonian, just like you.”

“Still, that doesn’t make us the judge, jury, and executioner of the world,” Superman replied. “If we do that, then we’re no Justice League – we’re just a band of vigilantes who think we’re above everyone else. Is that what you want to be known as?”

“You don’t care about what he did to Kara? Clark, look at her. Look at what he did to her. She only got put in that spot against Zod because of us, and—”

“Stop,” Kara said, cutting Barry off mid-sentence. “I chose the path that led me to confrontation with Zod. You two did not do that. I faced the consequences for my choice. That was my decision, and mine alone. I do not need the two of you arguing over my choices for me like you are my father.”

Superman and Flash both turned away from her. More than a little bit of shame rose up in Barry, and he quickly turned to Superman.

“Hey,” Barry said, causing Superman to turn to him, “look, I’m sorry. I’m just stressed out and worried right now. I wasn’t thinking clearly, and I shouldn’t have said those things.”

“No, I get it,” Superman responded in a similar tone. “I’m sorry as well. I went overboard. I think you made a good point, though.” His face shifted into a steely expression. “Zod is a bridge we’ll have to figure out how to cross when we get there.”

“No hard feelings?” Barry asked, extending a hand. Superman took it almost instantly, shaking.

“None, Barry. There never will be.”

“And I’m sorry to you too, Kara,” Barry turned to her. “I shouldn’t have acted like that. It’s just that when I realized what had happened, I got worried.”

Her expression softened somewhat. “I understand, and I appreciate the concern – I truly do. But I am old enough to make my own decisions and responsible enough to bear their ends as well. I spent all of my years on Krypton trying to prove that to my father, and now that he is no longer with me, I must now live that way.”

Lantern slowly clapped off to the side. “I have never seen people argue, stop, and then make up that quickly before. Gotta say, that was kinda impressive.”

“You’ve never seen it because you’ve got an ego the size of the planet,” Aquaman said. He put a thumbs up. “Good job, though. That was beautiful to watch. It’s the kind of low-ego teamwork that makes the dream work. Lantern’s got enough of that for all of us, anyway.”

Batman, for his part, had stayed silent in his seat, watching them but not saying a single word during the entire encounter. Finally, he shifted back to the display. “Now that we’re finished on this end, I’m going to bring our military contact into the loop.” The display split so that Aquaman and Mera were on one side and Swanwick and another man that Barry had never seen were on the other.

“General Swanwick,” Batman greeted.

“Batman,” the lieutenant general nodded in return. “I see you’ve got all your super-friends with you. Nice of them to join.”

“You know Flash from the desert operation,” Batman said. Swanwick nodded at Flash, who nodded in return. “The man in the green is Green Lantern. Behind me is Superman and his cousin, Kara Zor-El.”

“His cousin?” Swanwick frowned. “From where?”

“She was a part of Zod’s forces until recently,” Batman explained.

“Can she be trusted?” Swanwick asked.

Kara stepped forward and pulled down the front collar of her suit to reveal the full extent of the bruising. “I faced Zod,” she said as loudly as she could, “and this is what I got from it.”

Swanwick pursed his lips. “Okay, then. And we’re calling you Kara, which I assume is your name? You don’t have one of those nicknames that you vigilantes seem to love?”

“I am no vigilante,” Kara stated.

“Perhaps you can follow my naming scheme,” Superman suggested. “Superwoman, perhaps?”

“That’s a bit wordy, to be honest,” Lantern noted. “Su-per-man is already three syllables. Adding a fourth gets a little hard to say, especially in the heat of battle. Hell, sometimes I’d just say ‘Supes,’ which might get a little confusing if there are two Super-people flying around.”

“Supergirl,” Kara simply said. “It is mostly the same if I understand the words correctly, and one syllable shorter – the same as Superman.”

“If you’re okay with it,” Superman commented as he shrugged his shoulders. “It’s your choice.”

“It does have a nice ring to it,” Aquaman offered.

“Then it is so. I am Supergirl.”

There were a few moments of silence. Superman nodded. Flash looked around, unsure if this was something that he should have clapped for.

“When I asked about your nicknames,” Swanwick finally said, “I didn’t mean that you had to pick one right now. But since you have, Supergirl, then that’s what we’ll call you.”

“Right,” Batman spoke up. “On the screen is Aquaman and his wife, Mera. They’re the king and queen of Atlantis. Currently, they’re at a staging point off the West Coast.”

“Atlantis,” Swanwick said in a flat tone. “You’re telling me that the mythical city of Atlantis is real? What’s next, Avalon is somewhere out there too?”

“Take it or leave it, general,” Batman replied. “That’s what I can tell you.”

“Fine, Batman, but I don’t like it. The brass is already on my ass about working with masked vigilantes, and this doesn’t help at all. But we’ll do this and I’ll take the heat because right now, that’s what’s needed.”

“That’s all I can ask for, general.”

The other man beside Swanwick slowly raised a hand. “Uh, hi there, everyone. I’m Doctor Emil Hamilton. I’m the director of S.T.A.R. Labs, and we’ve been working with the military through DARPA.”

“Good to meet you, Doctor Hamilton,” Batman addressed. “I’ve read your paper on theoretical plasma dynamics for physical application. It was a novel approach for a problem that has stumped many brilliant minds over the years. I’m personally interested in seeing it be used in a field-like structure.”

“Oh, yes,” Dr. Hamilton’s eyes lit up instantly, “that one was very difficult to approach—”

“Doctor,” Swanwick cut him off, “there will be time for that later. For now, we need to focus on Zod.”

“Right, yes, sorry,” Dr. Hamilton sheepishly said. “With Zod, what we’ve been observing has been a movement of various Kryptonian craft. An hour ago, we detected three large objects—though smaller than the main Kryptonian ship that has been in orbit—that were previously hidden on the far side of the moon. The first one has already landed in the southern Indian Ocean while the other two are still in orbit. We don’t yet know where they’re going to land. The main ship has also been maneuvering, and our current projections have it landing somewhere in the United States, likely in the east.”

“The world engine,” Barry intoned. Kara shot him a strange look but didn’t say anything.

“What was that?” Doctor Hamilton leaned into the camera, almost taking up the full view. “What’s a world engine?”

Barry sighed. “It’s a terraforming machine,” he described. “It syncs with another Kryptonian ship on the opposite side of the Earth and creates a field that begins the terraforming process.”

“How do you know so much about this?” Lantern asked, crossing his arms. On the screen, Barry could also see Swanwick’s expression turn into suspicion.

“I got the intel from Kara,” Barry explained quickly, causing the mentioned Kryptonian to turn to him in another sharp look. He ignored it. He hadn’t really thought through the ramifications of using her as his excuse, but the information needed to come out somehow, and he couldn’t wait until he and Batman were alone to talk about it. “She told me how the, well,” he motioned with two hands, both palms facing each other as if there was an invisible sphere between them, “the world engines work.” He tried to recall everything that the past Superman and Batman had once mentioned about Zod’s invasion, when he wasn’t yet a superhero – when all he could do was a save a single child from the fate that had fallen upon his father. “They do something by hitting opposite ends of the Earth and increasing its mass.”

Hamilton frowned. “That would be… very bad for us. If it’s the opposite side, then…” he crunched some numbers off-screen, “that’d make somewhere around the Delaware-New Jersey region the landing point for his ship. And the other two, then, are more of these world engines, I assume. But we don’t know where they’re going to land.”

Kara looked at Barry before she spoke. “I found a similar structure in Bialya before I was confronted by Zod. It looked like it was almost completed.”

“Bialya,” Hamilton whispered to himself. “The antipode would be somewhere in the southern mid-Pacific. That’s about as far away from land as you can get on Earth.”

Barry grimaced – an all-too-common expression for him these days.

“Aquaman,” Batman barked, “you’ll have to reroute your forces, then. Superman can deal with the one in the southern Indian Ocean, while you’ll have to deal with the one in the Pacific.” Arthur nodded on the split-screen.

“Wait,” Swanwick spoke up. “What if there are even more? We didn’t even know they had these extra ‘world engines’ before today.”

Batman rapidly typed on his keyboard. “It’s highly unlikely. Zod is limited not only by the number of world engines he may have had on hand prior to arriving on Earth, but also by the ability to construct antipode stations for the terraforming process. I’ve reconfigured my search parameters to compensate. We know that whatever machines they’re constructing outside the one from the moon, they’re using Earth-mined metals to build it. That severely limits their construction opportunities. If my guess is right, the only other place outside of Bialya where they might have been able to muster enough raw materials, have a significant-enough presence, and also be able to hide it from scrutiny is… Nairomi, in North Africa. The antipode of that will also be in the southern Pacific, but far away enough from the other one that Aquaman won’t be able to easily handle both at the same time.”

“I’m a superhero,” Aquaman grunted in agreement, “but not a miracle worker. That’s a lot of distance to cover, and my forces and I will be tired if we even manage to get one of them. I don’t want to split up to deal with both either.”

Swanwick frowned. “This is getting very tricky, very fast. We can deal with the one that’ll land on the Eastern Seaboard. The first Pacific one, you said that the Aquaman will handle. Superman has the one in the Indian Ocean, which covers us if we can’t figure out how to deal with the one that’s landing on the mainland. That means we have one full duo, the U.S.—Indian Ocean connection, covered, and half of the Bialya—Pacific Number One as well. But that still leaves the entire Nairomi—Pacific Number Two duo unaccounted for, along with the Bialyan end if we want to do both sides of each connection.”

Batman sat in contemplation for a moment. “I can help with the one landing on the East Coast. We can send Lantern, Flash, and Kara to Nairomi. Superman should reroute to help stop Zod’s ship after it lands on the East Coast, and then he can maneuver either to the Pacific to help Aquaman, to Nairomi to help Team Two, or even to Bialya should Aquaman’s team not be able to take out Pacific Number One.”

“My swimming’s not great,” Superman admitted. “I can do any of those, but I’m pretty sure Arthur has me beat in a swimming contest. I’m just not going to be as effective underwater as I am in the air.”

“I’ll take the help anyway, Supes,” Aquaman said. “If Mister Lantern, Mister Flash, and Miss Superman don’t need the help.” Both Lantern and Kara frowned at Aquaman’s face on screen. Flash held back a small grin. He could always count on Arthur to help lighten the mood, even in the middle of an actual, real-life alien invasion – and only the fourth one that Barry had experienced so far, to boot.

“We’ll figure out what the second phase will look like when we get there,” Batman stated. “That covers at least one end of each node.”

“I still don’t like it, but this plan does minimize our risk of complete geopolitical chaos if things go sideways,” Swanwick admitted. “The Nairomian government is largely defunct as it stands, so we wouldn’t expect much international condemnation for an armed intervention into their borders, especially in the middle of a bonafide alien invasion.”

“Why is Zod even interested in terraforming Earth, anyway?” Lantern asked. “Don’t the Kryptonians have superpowers and stuff in Earth’s atmosphere as it is right now?”

“He wants to rebuild his species,” Flash explained. A third look from Kara, he could see out of the corner of his eye. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best idea for him to use her as a cover story, but now that he had, he would have to think of another cover story to use on her later. “Once Earth is terraformed into a new Krypton, he’s going to use a genetic registry to repopulate the planet with Kryptonians.”

“O…kay,” Lantern slowly said, “but that doesn’t explain why he wouldn’t want the powers. Superman and Kara can clearly live on Earth just about fine.”

“Zod is a Kryptonian,” Kara simply stated as if that were enough reasoning. Her voice still sounded relatively weak compared to its usual strength. Seeing the blank expressions on everyone else’s faces, she continued. “Almost all Kryptonians were born from the genesis chamber in Kandor, genetically engineered to be a perfect citizen of Krypton and bred for their purpose in society.”

“Almost all?” Swanwick questioned, a note of curiosity in his voice. “What about you and Superman?”

“Kal was a natural birth,” Kara explained, coughing a little to clear her throat. “The first on Krypton in living memory. He was subjected to no genetic imprinting. And me…” she trailed off a for a moment, her face giving little away of her thoughts, “I was a defective Kryptonian. My genetic imprinting failed to take in utero entirely, and I lack the genetic markers for even somatic reconditioning.”

“I’m going to pretend I understood that,” Aquaman remarked. “But basically what I’m hearing is that you and Superman are the two Kryptonians out there that aren’t cuckoo for Krypton-puffs.”

“Y…yes,” Kara hesitantly agreed. “If that means what I believe it does. Zod is, no matter what he says, bound to his programming. I thought that it was just the perpetuation of Krypton and its people, but he is going further than I ever thought he would. I lament the end of my world. My parents, my aunt and uncle, my friends – they died on Krypton. But my mourning will not bring them back, and rebuilding a new Krypton will not undo the past. I will remember Krypton as it was, not as Zod wants it to be. He intends to rebuild Krypton because that is what he believes to be the continuation of our people and world. And he will do it on the bones of billions of humans.”

“Yikes,” Lantern commented. “All right, we’re definitely going to have to stop this guy. Anyone who thinks bones are a good building foundation is actually insane.”

Kara tilted her head in slight confusion. “No, it was a metaphor. The bones will not actually be used.”

“Ignore him,” Batman interjected. “Lantern was making an off-color joke.”

“Oh. I understand now,” Kara stated. “I learned English quickly when we were in orbit, but the nuances of the language in conversational use are still foreign to me.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to catch up after this, Kara,” Superman said, patting his cousin’s shoulder. “First, we’ll stop Zod and this plan of his.”

“In that case, we’ll prepare for our assault. Good luck, surface peeps – you’re going to need it.” Aquaman said on his half of the display. The display minimized as he disconnected, expanding Swanwick and Hamilton’s faces to the entire screen.

“General, we’ll meet up with you and your forces at Peterson,” Batman said. “From there, we can stage a united frontal assault on the Kryptonian mothership.”

Swanwick nodded. “I’ll make sure to clear you and your people. Keep me posted. Swanwick out.” His screen went dark as well, leaving the computer’s main display to revert to its menu screen.

Batman turned around in his chair. “Lantern, Kara, Flash – you’re Team Two. You’ll be going to Nairomi. Superman and I will rendezvous with Swanwick as Team One.”

“Roger that,” Lantern said, quickly throwing a lazy salute. “Flash, you need a ride?”

“I have him,” Supergirl immediately said, half-turning to Flash. “We have some things to talk about.”

“Right-o,” Lantern replied, backing away. Clearly, he sensed the same danger emanating from the Kryptonian that Flash did. “I’ll see you two there, then.” He quickly flew out of the skylight that was becoming the warehouse’s unofficial-official entryway for the half of the League that could fly.

Barry turned to Supergirl. “Hey, look,” he began, but he was cut off by a stern look from her. She threw one arm around his mid-section and took off with him in tow. Perhaps not surprisingly, her grasp on Barry was about as solid as being strapped in with multiple seatbelts, and he felt little give in her grip as they soared upward into the sky. Despite the speed they were flying at, his suit and his body’s rather hardy constitution meant that he was mostly fine despite not being built for travel in the open air.

“Tell me the truth, Barry Allen,” Kara eventually said as she leveled out and they flew east. “How did you know what you said earlier?”

Barry gulped. The chickens had come home to roost. He thought about a lie—perhaps he could have passed it off as something that Superman had told him before—but there was a tiredness rising deep in him from that mere thought. Every lie he told incurred a debt to the truth. He had already told enough falsehoods, and he truly didn’t want to tell anymore – especially not to the people he was going to be fighting alongside, the people that he had come to trust his life and the lives of so many others with. And certainly not to this Kara, who shared the same face as the one he remembered dedicating and ultimately sacrificing her life to fight with him and for the future of humanity.

Perhaps, Barry thought to himself, it was finally time for the truth to have its day.

“Look, Kara, the truth… it’s complicated.”

Kara turned her head to look at him, a blank stare as her expression. Their faces were mere inches apart, which Barry suddenly realized to some embarrassment; the heat of her adjacent body on his left side became hard to ignore as she pulled him into her hold a little tighter.

“Tell me,” she commanded.

He steeled himself. He had put himself in this hole and now he had to dig himself out. If she thought he was insane afterwards, then that was the price he’d have to pay. “Fine. I’m from a different world. I ran across timelines and now I’m here.”

Kara had an inscrutable expression on her face, and she said nothing for a few seconds. After a few moments, she turned away to look forward again. “I see.”

Barry blinked a few times. “… I see? Wait, what—what do you mean, I see? That’s it?”

She didn’t immediately respond, and the wind whipped around them as they sped across the open sea.

“For years, I have had… nightmares,” Kara admitted, her eyes still facing forward. “And recently, I finally understood what they were for all that time – memories of another life, one that I did not live.” She breathed in deeply before slowly exhaling, and Barry felt the motion of her diaphragm due to their contact between their bodies. “They were the memories of a Kara Zor-El that intruded on my own, mixing and matching in ways that were painful and, sometimes, even unwanted.”

“What do you remember?” Barry cautiously asked.

She frowned. “My childhood was much the same, though Krypton’s destruction occurred when I was young girl rather than on the boundary of my majority. When I landed on Earth, I had been captured, and it had only been through the efforts of that world’s Batman and Barry Allen, in addition to a second Barry Allen, that I was freed.”

Barry’s heart raced. It wasn’t possible for someone else to have crossed over as well, was it? But what she was talking about…

“After that,” Kara continued, “we fought Zod and his forces. I do not fully remember how that fight went. What I do remember is one of the Barry Allens trying to help me, but Zod was too strong. The next thing I remember was those memories merging into my own. I do not know where one set ends and the other begins. I am still unsure whether I am me or her, that other Kara. I… I don’t even know who the ‘other Kara’ is – the one who remembers that other world, or the one who was born in this one.” She shook her head, the wind keeping her hair slicked back out of her face. “Now that I say it out loud, I cannot even believe myself. It sounds absurd. A crisis of identity with myself.”

By now, they were approaching a desert in the distance – perhaps the shores of Morocco, if Barry’s high school geography was of any help.

“Kara,” Barry started, figuring out the right words to say. “I know that I don’t look the same at all, but I am that same Barry. The Barry from that world.”

She slowed down in the air, looking at him again with an enigmatic expression as they came to a stop.

“Okay, well, I mean, not that world’s Barry, but the other, other Barry that wasn’t supposed to be there. The one with shorter hair. You know,” Barry offered helpfully, “short black hair. Great cheekbones. A mature attitude. The cooler Barry. It doesn’t really help that I look completely different now.”

“I remember,” Kara said. They were now upright and stationary in the air, with Kara holding onto Barry with both hands around his waist. Despite her firm grip, he didn’t feel like he was being uncomfortably squeezed.

“Yeah,” Barry carried on, resisting the urge to awkwardly rub the back of his head in that all-too-common gesture of apology and embarrassment – even if it would have been appropriate for once. He looked downward, though. “That was me. I… I did something, in the Speed Force. I ran, and somehow, I ended up here, and apparently you ended up here as well.”

She shook her head. “That is… I would say hard to believe, but what I experienced…” she trailed off, pursing her lips. “It, this life, does not feel real, almost. It is like I was reborn. Is what you say even possible?” She looked away for a moment, as if searching for something to hold onto. “I understand what you are saying, but it is difficult to believe even though my own memories would confirm it.” She turned back to him.

He gazed into her eyes intently, and she returned the look. They floated in silence for a few seconds. “Kara,” Barry said at least, finding that one memory that he felt in his heart would persuade her fully, “when I didn’t have my powers and Bruce and I had failed, I remember you carrying me into the sky. I was… I was dying at that point, barely able to hold on and barely conscious in your arms, but I saw you. I remember the rain, the lightning. I remember…” his voice faded, seeing her expression change – seeing it all click in her mind, seeing that anchor be found, seeing her believe the truth of his words. It was the truth that no one else on this world could have possibly known.

He didn’t know how long they were locked in that moment.

“Barry,” she finally whispered, looking almost like she was about to tear up. “I believed I was alone, going insane from something that I did not understand. For so long, I thought I was losing my mind. I—I did not know if it was because of my birth, my defective imprinting. I was scared.”

“I’m so sorry, Kara,” Barry said, placing his hands on her shoulders in a gesture of comfort. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault. Whatever is happening or has happened to you is my fault and mine alone. Something happened in the Speed Force that I don’t remember, and it caused you to live two lives when you shouldn’t have had to deal with the burden of remembering what happened on that world.”

“Did we fail?” she asked, her voice still quiet. “Is that why, why you ran here?”

“… Yes,” Barry murmured in response. “We couldn’t do it. You, and Bruce, and everyone else… you had all died so many times. Barry and I, we—we just couldn’t do anything about it. So I did what I had to do, what I thought would fix everything, and it didn’t. All it did was cause this. Now we’re both back here, facing Zod again.”

Kara leaned her forehead on Barry’s, a moment of vulnerability and tenderness that Barry could scarcely have believed he could feel after everything that had happened in the past few weeks of time in his perception.

“I trusted Zod in this world before my memories returned,” Kara breathed out in a hushed tone, barely loud enough for him to hear. “Now I fear him more than I ever have. He is stronger—much stronger—than the one I remember fighting. But… this world has a Superman. It has a Batman too, like the world we came from. It has other heroes. It has you.” She pulled back, defiance shining in her eyes. “It has all of us, together. We will not fail this world like we did the other.”

Barry breathed out heavily. A little bit of that tension, just a little of that fear that had gripped his heart for weeks, finally dissipated. It was still there, but now it had been partially relieved by the knowledge that he really, truly wasn’t alone. Not in the way he had thought he was in this brave new world he had found himself in, that had such heroes and villains in it. No, he was not alone. Kara—his Kara, for the lack of a better way to describe the multiversality of it all—was here with him.

“Hey, are you guys here yet?” Lantern’s voice came through on their commlinks, breaking the moment. “I haven’t heard from y’all in a while, and believe me when I say it, but holy shit, this is going to be a big problem.”

“Yeah,” Barry replied, a hand to his ear to open his end to Lantern. He looked at Kara. “Hold tight. We’re on our way and almost there.”

Kara released her grip on one hand to swing Barry back into her one-arm hold, but now, there was an understanding between them that hadn’t existed just minutes prior. Now, Barry felt his heart soar just like how they flew through the sky – lighter than air, as fast as the wind.

The truth was that he wasn’t alone in this world, and he was going to fight as hard as he could to make sure that it would stay that way.

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

“You’re right,” Flash said, marveling in both awe and horror at the sight before him – it was a sight that, even with what he had seen before, was still mighty to behold. “This is a really big problem.”

He and Kara had sped over the coasts of North Africa after Lantern had reached out to them, and Barry could finally see what had gotten Lantern so worked up. Before them, even at the distance they were out at, was a veritable storm cloud of destruction. In the center was a structure that rose high into the sky. Its three-legged design was most definitely alien, and from its bulbous top, black smoke poured out in voluminous quantity with every passing moment. The ground around it had already been transformed from the native sand and rock into something that Barry had never quite seen before.

“What the hell is it doing?” Lantern remarked over the commlink. “Is that the terraforming process?”

“I—I think so,” Flash hesitantly said. In his honest opinion, though, he wasn’t sure. He had never seen the world engine that Superman had once told him about in the Indian Ocean. The Kryptonian ship that had haunted his nightmares for years above Metropolis was different – it had pulsed a gravity wave of some kind, while this seemed to be fundamentally changing the land beneath it. Already, blackened rock and scorched earth could be seen at the foot of the machine. Even the air had started to become different in a way that Barry could both smell and somehow taste on his tongue.

“Hn,” Kara grunted, and suddenly they dipped slightly, causing Flash’s stomach to drop slightly. They leveled out, only to drop again after a few seconds. He could feel her grip on him weaken slightly.

“Kara!” Barry worriedly cried out. She half-turned to him, her face visibly tense. “Are you okay?”

“I… feel… weaker,” she managed to say, her body almost shivering beside his. The two were only meters above the desert sand, and finally she gave out entirely and they fell onto the sand, rolling to a stop.

Flash rose to his feet and was beside her fallen form in the blink of an eye, where she was spluttering and struggling to rise to her knees.

“Hey, don’t worry,” Barry said, propping her up on his chest. “I’m right here. Do you need me to get you away from it?”

She shook her head, pushing herself off of Barry and into a standing position, albeit with some hesitation. “I… I am fine. It is the air – the world engine has become terraforming this land into what Krypton was. I think it is affecting me.”

“So, you’re losing your powers?” Barry asked. He thought about it for a moment. If Kara couldn’t fight at her full strength, then he and Lantern would have a harder time against whatever defenses the world engine had.

“I will be fine,” Kara reiterated. She breathed deeply, shuddering a little as she did so. “I have to be.”

As if on cue, Lantern’s voice crackled to life in his ear. “Barry, where the hell are you two? This thing’s got, I don’t know, tentacles! Damn!”

Barry looked up, where he could see a small green figure in the distance flying around and avoiding what appeared to him to be black metal tendrils emanating from the top of the world engine. Every now and then, the green figure would stop and conjure a bright green object, but at virtually every turn, the tendrils simply pushed and broke through the conjured shield.

“We have to help him, Kara,” Barry said, turning to her. She looked back at him out of the corner of her eye, her fists squeezed as she breathed sharply through her clenched teeth. Finally, she shook her head.

“No,” she firmly replied. “He will need to handle himself. We need to deal with them.” She turned with her back facing the world engine, leaving Barry confused.

“Wait, who’s ‘them,’ Kara?”

Kara didn’t respond, so Barry spun around and looked for enemies before he spotted a Kryptonian dropship behind them, quickly decelerating as it came to a landing position. When the dropship came to a halt, its ramp lowered almost instantly, and within a few seconds, Barry could faintly make out a number of figures disembark. Kara inhaled and took off toward the dropship, and with little extra thought, Barry followed, making sure to keep slightly behind her to let her lead them. When she stopped about twenty yards away from the dropship, he also exited the Speed Force to skid to a halt beside her.

As far as he could tell, she was staring down the lead figure of the five Kryptonians that had just arrived. One of the Kryptonians was an unusually large brute – Barry noted with no small amount of anguish and hate that it was likely the same Kryptonian, or one substantially similar between the universes, that had killed the other Bruce. Kara’s red cape billowed slightly in the wind, a stark contrast to the nearly all-black armor sported by the other Kryptonians.

“Kara Zor-El,” the lead Kryptonian said – a woman whose name Barry vaguely recalled as Faora. “The traitor.”

“Faora,” Kara responded, in a tone that was somewhere between anger and sorrow. “How could you? How could Zod do this? And why would you follow him to this point?”

Faora cocked her masked head slightly to one side. “General Zod has done nothing that I did not believe was the right thing for Krypton.”

“Krypton?” Kara said with disbelief. “Krypton is gone, Faora. It will never return.”

“And that is where you are wrong, daughter of El. That is why the Sword of Rao had to transform into the Sword of Krypton. Rao had failed us like he failed our home, so now we will forge Krypton anew far beyond Rao’s reach.”

Only about half of that explanation made sense to Barry, but the underlying gist that he gathered was that Kara and Faora had known each other before any of this had happened, and possibly to good degree, too.

“Faora…” Kara began, trailing off with disbelief on her face. “What happened to you?”

In response, the older Kryptonian woman pulled off her rebreather mask, squinting as she did so with visible tension in her jaw. Barry saw Kara flinch slightly at the motion. A few seconds passed in silence, Faora clearly adjusting to the still-foreign atmosphere.

Finally, she replied. “You are the one who has changed, Kara Zor-El, not us. You are the one who stands against your own people with these…” she looked at Barry, “lesser beings.”

A witty retort rose in Barry’s mind but died on his tongue. While he was about ninety-percent sure he was still faster than these Kryptonians, drawing attention to himself didn’t seem like a wise thing to do. At any rate, it seemed like Kara was going to respond for him anyway.

“Lesser,” Kara repeated. Her eyes flicked to Barry and then back to Faora. “I have come to know the humans. They can be violent and rageful, unfair and unjust. We both saw that in our time on Earth. But they can also be kind, generous, and loving. I have seen the good they have within them along with the bad, and I have hope for them. They are no more and no less a complex people as we once were.”

Faora sneered, a cruel and condescending look on her face. “You have hope them? You have fallen far, daughter of El. Where is your hope for your own kind?”

Kara balled up her fists. “If we are to be defined by Zod, then all I have is fear for what is left of Krypton.”

Faora turned to her side. “Nam-Ek, deal with the human. I will deal with her.” The hulking giant said nothing but strode forward to Barry.

Almost instantly, Barry entered the Speed Force, but to his horror, the Kryptonian brute only moderately slowed down instead of coming to a near-full stop. Was he that much slower, or were these Kryptonians faster than the ones he had fougtht before? He quickly backed away as he saw Kara fly into Faora and the two of them blast off into the distance. Behind the brute, the other three Kryptonians had raised their rifles at him.

Barry moved without thinking. Their… plasma beams, or whatever they were to his untrained eyes, were still as eminently avoidable as they had been before, so he moved out of the way even as the brute moved toward him at somewhat startling speed. Backing up in a half-circle, he routed around the brute and spun around to take the rifle out of the three Kryptonian soldiers’ hands; despite their superior strength, they clearly weren’t at the level of Kara—much less the past Clark that one time Barry had actually fought him and nearly ruined a pair of pants doing so—and their grips of their rifles were only steady enough to hold onto said rifles, not deal with a speedster bumping them out of their hands.

To his side, he could see the brute—Nam-Ek, as Faora had called him—run toward him at perhaps just a little slower than the past Clark had been after getting resurrected by the Mother Box, so he quickly began to spin to create a cyclone, kicking up an inordinate large amount of dust for the size of the vortex and sweeping all three of the regular-sized Kryptonians off of their feet.

Nam-Ek reached a hand toward him and just barely brushed Barry’s shoulder as Barry ran up the ramp of the dropship and phased through its front to the other side. He took a breather at the exertion, but barely got in a breath of dusty air before Nam-Ek burst through the dropship entirely, shredding the Kryptonian vessel into small chunks in a fiery explosion that forced Barry to phase again to avoid shrapnel.

The overwhelming desire in Barry was to run away – if he ran at his top speed, he was fairly certain that Nam-Ek would be left in the dust somewhat literally. But he saw Hal. Green Lantern was still flying in the distance, trying to avoid those metal tendrils that emanated out of the world engine as he failed to find an opening to destroy the entire contraption. Kara was nowhere to be found, likely off fighting with Faora still. If he left, then Nam-Ek would just turn to Lantern. He couldn’t leave. He couldn’t let Lantern stand alone.

Barry strengthened his resolve as he fell backwards, still phasing through the shrapnel that threatened to pierce him like it had the younger Barry, once upon a time. Nam-Ek was still reaching forward, unscathed by the explosion or flying shards of metal, with his hand mere inches away from Barry’s face. He ran through his options in the time he had, his mind still firing at full speed even if his body was a little slower than he remembered.

Lightning was out – his gloves were still on, and even if he took them off, there was no telling whether or not it would be enough to take the brute of a Kryptonian down. The last time, it had taken both himself and younger Barry combined to generate enough electrical charge to stop the brute, and Barry’s own connection to the Speed Force was already more tenuous than it had been then. If he couldn’t generate enough of a charge to incinerate Nam-Ek, then he would be back to square one.

Fighting head-on wasn’t an option. Barry was pretty sure that he would get blasted apart by a single punch from the Kryptonian. He had a relatively solid physical constitution, but it didn’t extend to Kryptonian-level punches. And Barry was certainly not rushing to find out, one way or the other.

Phasing was another potential choice, considering he had already used it on Kryptonians before. But phasing was, despite how he made it look sometimes, not a simple or easy thing to do, and the precision it required to not chop off something from his own body when he was trying to phase was not conducive to a real battle. He was as likely to lose a hand as he was to stop the Kryptonian’s heart, and with Nam-Ek moving at an appreciable speed, there was little room for error. If he failed, then he’d be dead, and Lantern would be stuck trying to deal with more problems. Not an option, then.

His speed was his only viable tool, then. Fitting enough for the fastest man alive.

“Lantern!” Flash yelled, still retreating from Nam-Ek’s grasp, “Get down here and flank him!”

Lantern didn’t respond, but Flash could see the green figure begin to swoop downwards, bringing the tendrils with him in hot pursuit. Within just the span of a few seconds, Flash sidestepped Nam-Ek, causing the Kryptonian giant to stumble forward slightly as he clenched at thin air while Lantern flew just over his head. Still too slow to catch for nimbler Green Lantern, Nam-Ek barely had a moment to see Lantern fly past him before being slammed full force by the metal tendrils, throwing him across the desert sand with chunks of his armor flying apart from the impact.

“Damn, that actually worked,” Lantern noted over the comm even as he was still being chased. His voice was a little strained to Barry’s ears, the first sign he had heard of Lantern being physically pushed by the endeavor. “But it looks like the big guy’s not out of the fight yet.”

In the distance, Flash saw Nam-Ek rise to his feet, his armor having been shredded by the equally strong metal of the Kryptonian tendrils. His rebreather mask was flickering, with a gaping hole on the top that was rapidly expanding. The brute tore off what was left of his mask and armor to reveal a black skinsuit underneath and an almost-inhuman-looking face for a Kryptonian.

“This dude’s ugly,” Barry remarked. “Like, wow.”

“Are we sure he’s Kryptonian?” Lantern quipped, flying in circles above the world engine. “Because none of them look like him.”

Nam-Ek’s face was scrunched up—though Barry wasn’t sure if that it just its normal appearance—and began to walk toward the speedster. Suddenly, the Kryptonian shot forward like a speeding bullet, pushing off the ground with much faster acceleration than Barry thought he could. Without his armor, Nam-Ek was even faster, as if unburdened by the extra weight.

Barry, without thinking twice, ripped off his gloves and quickly generated electrical charge by running in place, aligning his hands in the triangle formation that grounded the electric buildup. Bolts of orange lightning shot forth and cascaded over Nam-Ek, but the brute simply kept speeding forward, almost skipping across the desert without concern for the lightning that collided with him.

“Shit,” Barry breathed out, barely dodging out of the way as Nam-Ek collided with one half of the destroyed Kryptonian dropship behind him. “I can’t scratch this guy.”

“Look,” Lantern grunted in reply, the sound of metal clinking behind him noticeably audible over the comm, “if you want to trade with me, be my guest. I’ve been flying here for like half an hour now and not only can I not figure out how to break this thing in half, but these tendrils also want to do very bad things to me.”

“We need Kara back,” Barry said, watching as Nam-Ek emerged from the wreckage unscathed, save for burn marks on his skinsuit. “We don’t have the firepower for this.”

Nam-Ek suddenly fell to his knees, clutching his eyes as he roared for the first time. It was a monstrous sound, and behind his hands, Barry watched with growing fear as he saw the tell-tale signs of Kryptonian heat vision emerging as an orange glow. Finally, Nam-Ek tore his hands away from his face and rose as he unleashed the beams, shooting straight upwards into the sky.

“Woah!” Lantern cried out. “I almost got a haircut from that.”

“We’re outclassed.” Barry felt that horrible sensation return. He wasn’t strong enough – or perhaps the Kryptonians were too strong this time. He didn’t know which was the case, but it didn’t matter because the result was the same. Even with Lantern, against a Kryptonian that could power up like this, there was little hope that either of them could scratch him.

It didn’t mean that Barry couldn’t try, though.

Running as fast and far away as he could, Barry felt that charge buildup again and dashed all the way back, hoping that he had generated enough. He stopped just short of Nam-Ek and unleashed all of it on the Kryptonian, but it was to no avail. Nam-Ek yelled in obvious pain and fell to one knee, but already, he was beginning to look at Barry with glowing eyes even as the lightning ripped at and puckered his skin.

The heat vision’s beams came quickly, and Barry barely pulled himself out of the lightning throw—which had locked him in place—to push himself to the side and out of the way of the beams. Even so, he wasn’t quite fast enough, and one of them caught the side of his right shoulder. Barry tumbled away into the sand, coming to a rest some distance away. He groaned face-first into the sand, the wound hot and painful even though it was already beginning to heal.

Raising his head slightly, Barry saw Nam-Ek approach like a hunter coming to their wounded prey. There was an almost sadistic quality to it, especially since Barry knew that the Kryptonian could have easily arrived near-instantly to kill him. Instead, on that impassive and crude mug that Nam-Ek called a face, there was nothing to indicate hurry other than the still-glowing eyes, illuminating the periphery of his face underneath the skin.

Gathering his strength, Barry was about to reach into the Speed Force to rush out of the vulnerable position when he felt a woosh of air from over his back and a figure slam into Nam-Ek, causing the Kryptonian to tumble away.

“Kara?” Barry called out, blinking his eyes. “Oh, that was close.”

“I am not this… Kara you speak of,” the figure said, partially obscured from Barry’s upward view by the Sun above, its rays cascading through and around the world engine’s smoke enough to be bright.

Barry blinked again and sat up. The figure moved out of the direct way of a ray of sunlight, revealing a woman with light-olive skin and dark hair that had been intricately braided so that it wrapped around her head rather than flowing freely. Her silver tiara was more like a diadem or circlet, sitting on the front of her forehead rather than on the top of her hair. Her breastplate was a deep red save for the silver belt-like pattern that broke up the red breastplate from the lower skirt-like tassets that were slightly lighter blue than much of her outfit. A bodysuit that seemed to run from her legs to her neck underneath the metal armor was also that same dark-blue color, with silver bracers on her forearms and silver pauldrons on her shoulders, and the look was completed by a pair of over-the-knee metal boots that matched the same red color as her breastplate.

More simply put, it was Wonder Woman, but with a different look in both outfit and appearance. What did remain was the lasso hanging from her hip and the sword and shield she wielded in her hands.

“Wonder Woman!” Barry exclaimed. Truth be told, he didn’t care anymore about trying to hide his asymmetrical knowledge; he needed all the help he could get, and if this Diana was anything like the old one, then she would be trustworthy.

She frowned. “Wonder Woman? I am Diana of Themyscira. Who are you?”

He bit his lower lip. “I’ll tell you, but first we’ve gotta deal with him,” he pointed behind her at Nam-Ek, who was shaking his head as he pushed himself off the sand, “and that,” he finished, pointing at the world engine. “My friend in the air needs help as well.”

Diana seemed to assess the situation quickly. “We will deal with this monstrosity of a creature first. Then, we will stop this machine that is fouling the air and land.”

Barry nodded, tapping into the Speed Force. He ran past Diana’s left, drawing Nam-Ek’s attention almost immediately. The Kryptonian activated his heat vision swiftly—which he seemed to favor quite heavily after finding the power within himself—but Barry was faster, the beams harmlessly glassing the sand behind him as he continued to sprint toward the brute. Nam-Ek swiped at him but Barry skidded underneath, sliding on the sand as he saw Diana follow up with a swing of her sword toward the Kryptonian. Nam-Ek raised his left arm to defend, and to both her and Barry’s surprise, the sword, instead of passing through the flesh and bone, almost dinged like metal-on-metal against the bone, slicing only through the flesh of Nam-Ek’s forearm.

The Kryptonian screamed in pain and anger from the deep slice, a punch coming out from his right arm that caught Diana’s shield and forced the Amazon backwards, her feet drawing lines across the sand as she stayed upright from the blow. Her face was still impassive as she looked at Nam-Ek, who now stood, clutching his wounded arm, between Diana in front of him and Barry behind.

“Diana!” Barry yelled, drawing both Nam-Ek’s and Diana’s attentions. “Get him to the world engine!”

The Amazon nodded, and Barry sped away from the world engine to Nam-Ek’s left, before returning again with built-up electrical charge that he promptly unleashed on the Kryptonian. He knew it wasn’t enough to do anything more than slightly burn and singe Nam-Ek, but he saw Diana routing behind him, and the moment she passed over his head, he pulled his hands apart and cut off the flow of lightning just in time for Diana to slam into the Kryptonian with her shield. Nam-Ek flew a considerable distance backwards, well within range of the blackened terraformed landscape beneath the world engine, and he writhed in pain as the burgeoning Kryptonian atmosphere in the vicinity of the world engine began to rob him of his strength.

“The air is toxic there,” Wonder Woman said with a frown. “I would advise to not breathe it.” She noticeably held her breath as she flew forward, and Barry did the same as he sped into the radius of the world engine’s reach.

Nam-Ek was still struggling to stand properly, so Barry immediately dove feet first into the Kryptonian’s shins, knocking him off-balance to fall forward. Before he fell, though, Diana swept in and swung upwards, her blade cleanly arcing through Nam-Ek’s neck with a little blood spraying out as his head flew up and his body went down.

Still holding onto his breath, Barry gestured up at Lantern. Wonder Woman followed his gesture and nodded, flying upwards—something that Barry had never seen Wonder Woman do before—toward the Lantern as Barry sped back out of range of the world engine, beyond the wreck of the Kryptonian dropship.

He spluttered for breath as he made it back to the sand of the Nairomian desert, turning back to see Wonder Woman’s blade slice through the metal tendrils and then her and Lantern combined attacking the world engine itself. Lantern conjured all manners of green objects ranging from a train engine to a gigantic green hammer to pummel the outside while Wonder Woman sliced through the hull to enter the machine.

After a few minutes, the world engine erupted into a fireball, an explosion massive enough to send a powerful shockwave over Barry. Moments after that, both Wonder Woman and Lantern floated down to him.

“Wow,” Lantern remarked, eyeing Wonder Woman up and down. “Wow. I didn't notice because we were fighting at the time, but has anyone ever told you how gorgeous you are, beautiful?”

Diana rolled her eyes. “Over seventy years in Man’s World, and nothing has changed with men.”

“Hey,” Lantern shrugged, “it’s not every day that I see a pretty woman that can also kick my ass. And today alone I’ve seen two. I must’ve died and gone to heaven.”

“Is your friend… always like this?” Diana asked Barry.

He nodded in response. "Just about." He thought for a moment. “Oh, right,” Barry said, extending a hand that Diana took. “I’m Barry – the Flash. That’s Hal Jordan, Green Lantern.” Lantern playfully saluted.

“Diana,” Diana re-introduced herself. “I came when I saw the news.”

“The news?” Barry questioned.

Diana had a small smile on her face. “You, and the other heroes, are on every television station across the world. I came here because it was the closest for me. It seems like it was fortunate that I did.”

Barry nodded. “You bailed me out there for sure.” He paused. “Wait, where’s Kara?”

Lantern frowned. “Wasn’t she fighting one of the Kryptonians?”

“I did not see this Kara when I arrived,” Diana noted. “If she was here, then she is long gone.”

“Come in, Kara,” Barry said, pressing his commlink to connect to hers. But there was no reply, only the static of an empty channel. He felt a little fear rise in his heart for her. Nam-Ek was much stronger than he remembered from the past timeline. It stood to reason that Faora could be equally stronger as well. Was Kara strong enough here, in this world and time, to face her?

He shook his head. There was nothing to be done about it because they had no way of finding them. All he could do was trust that she could handle herself.

“Is there another attack still ongoing?”

“Bialya and Metropolis,” Diana said. “There were also reports from the Pacific, but the speculation was that it was underwater. Some militaries have sent ships toward the area.”

“Bialya first, then Metropolis,” Barry said resolutely. “Let’s finish this.”

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

In another lifetime, Clark thought to himself, maybe he would have rather been Jonathan and Martha Kent’s biological son. A normal human in a normal Kansan family, worrying more about the fields and crops of the farm rather than the countries and people of the world. He could have settled down—maybe with Lois, or perhaps with someone closer to home like Lana—had a few kids of his own, made a good and honest living, walked the earth for a bog-standard seventy-five years, collected his Social Security, and then died peacefully in his sleep. There was something quaint and altogether comforting in that kind of existence, one that freed him from the responsibilities he had been burdened with before his birth. An existence where he would’ve been… normal. He really would have been nothing more and nothing less than Clark Kent, and that would have been just fine.

Not the last child of a doomed, faraway world sent to safety as the hopes and dreams of his family and people.

That was a lot of pressure on a person, to put it mildly.

At least now he wasn’t all that was left of Krypton, even outside of Zod and his band of crazies. Kara, his cousin, was with him now on Earth. The thought of her made Clark smile a little. She was different than anyone he knew, except for maybe the absolute oddity that was Barry Allen, and she brought an energy that was in part alien and yet eminently relatable. To her, Earth was a new world. To him, she and the other Kryptonians were a new people. Despite the mirrored similarities between all of it, they were diametrically opposed in terms of their experiences due to that mirroring. In that asymmetry was a beautiful brilliance, the coming together of wonderfully varied and diverse perspectives that lent itself to a sense of adventure and discovery. He had seen it when Kara was with his parents, and he had felt it when he and Kara had finally gotten to know each other just a little bit more with the memory of his biological father. Clark sincerely hoped that they would have more opportunities like that after they had dealt with Zod.

That thought brought Clark right back to reality.

“Did you get that, Superman?” Lieutenant General Swanwick snapped. The older man was at the end of the conference table, hands on the wood as he stared at the Man of Steel. “This isn’t the time to be daydreaming.”

Clark’s eyes darted to Batman, who was still armor-clad. Of course, Clark could’ve manipulated his vision to peer just beneath that layer of titanium alloy, but he had too much respect for Bruce to do that without the other man agreeing to it. There was that unspoken but mutual regard between the two of them that had existed ever since they had first teamed up. As it turned out, his own powers were perfectly complemented by Bruce’s unparalleled mind, and they had made a more-than-formidable duo.

Now, they were a Justice League. Whatever that meant. Clark wasn’t sure yet, though he could think of a few things to say about it if he were to be put on the spot. That was the Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter in him.

“Yes, General,” Superman responded a small smile as he flicked his eyes back to Swanwick. Perfectly practiced, of course, as it had to be for the many photo-ops that Superman had in Metropolis alone. “You’ll be sending in aircraft to attack the Kryptonian ship from above while you want me to come in from below.”

Swanwick eyed him for a moment before nodding. “That’s correct. Now don’t let me catch you dozing off again like that. You might be Superman, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t get to pay attention. We’re going to run this op like a well-oiled machine, and we can’t do that if our biggest gun doesn’t know what to do.”

“I understand.”

“And you, Batman,” Swanwick began, before frowning slightly. “First ‘Superman’ and now ‘Batman’ – when I enlisted, the idea that I would be calling people those kinds of names was ludicrous. Now look at me.” He shook his head. “Batman,” he continued, “you’ll be in the air in your… craft. You’ll get to fly with my men, but make no mistake: you will take orders from the mission commander. No ‘ifs,’ ‘ands,’ or ‘buts,’ you hear me?”

“I hear you, General,” Batman responded, his voice modulated through the filter of his helmet.

“I did agree with you, though,” Swanwick admitted, “on the idea of evacuating the city. We’ve already implemented mandatory evacuations of the Metropolis business core, as best as we could. I’m still holding on whether we need to go any further than that, but at least dispersing the population of the city center should reduce casualties.”

Superman could imagine a smirk on Bruce’s face underneath the armored helmet.

Swanwick sighed and fell back into the barely padded office chair behind him. “Why do I get the feeling that this whole thing’s going to go tits up?”

“Alien invasions are hard to deal with, even for the best,” Superman replied, shrugging slightly. “We’ll do our best, General. You can count on that.”

The general pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right. Well—”

Whatever Swanwick wanted to say was cut off by the blaring of a klaxon, complete with emergency lights coming to life and bathing the conference room in a dark glow. Superman rose to his feet as Swanwick strode over to the heavy wooden door, pulling it open.

“What’s going on out there?” Swanwick questioned one of the soldiers that stood guard outside.

“I don’t know, sir,” a disembodied reply came back. Clark quickly looked through the wall, seeing a young soldier—no older than twenty-five, most likely—clutching his rifle in fear; his hands were shaking almost imperceptibly to the human eye but very noticeably to Clark’s vision. “We got an alert that there’s been an attack on the base!”

“This base?” Swanwick asked incredulously. “That’s impossible. This is one of the most fortified locations on Earth, in the middle of America.”

“It’s the aliens, sir!” another soldier called out, and Clark looked to the other wall to see a slightly older soldier standing on that side, her composure somewhat better than the first soldier’s. “They’ve launched an assault on us!”

Swanwick whipped around to Superman. “You’ve gotta get out there, now. Batman, get in the air.”

The two superheroes nodded, with Superman striding past Swanwick and the two soldiers that had stood guard outside. The corridor was a flurry of activity, but Superman ignored that as he saw an exit sign at the end of the hall. In a single burst of speed, he popped to the door, leaving behind a bit more chaos behind him as papers fluttered everywhere. Looking up before opening the door, he could see the threat clearly – a Kryptonian vessel, larger than the dropship that Kara had flown to the Kent homestead, floated above the base, its shields rendering it nigh invulnerable to the scattered counterattacks it experienced. He watched as a missile shot from a shoulder mounted MANPAD system splashed harmlessly against the gunship in a small ball of flames.

Superman didn’t bother opening the door, bursting through it instead as he launched himself in front of the soldier who still carried the MANPAD system in his hands. The return fire from the Kryptonian gunship, which would have no doubt ended the soldier’s life, splashed harmlessly against Superman’s chest, and without a second thought, Superman flew as hard and fast as he could at the gunship with one arm extended. He felt his fist hit the shield evenloping the gunship, but like any scenario with an unstoppable force versus a very movable object, he went right through it and felt his fist continue through the metal hull of the gunship, into the gunship’s interior where he saw a number of startled Kryptonian soldiers clad in armor and rebreather masks, and out the other side. The entire gunship erupted into a fireball as its fragments scattered downwards onto the tarmac of the airbase.

For his part, Superman didn’t stop to watch – he was too experienced for that. Instead, he quickly collected the soldiers closest in the vicinity of the debris, making sure they didn’t get hit by any of the falling metal fragments. Finally, it was over, and Superman came to a stop as Swanwick and Batman strode up to him.

“I didn’t even get into my ship,” Batman remarked, looking at the wreckage. “Good job.”

Swanwick shook his head. “I’d agree, except that gunship did what it came to do. We’ve lost our entire ground-based fleet. It wiped them out in the first round of attacks. The closest reinforcements we have are at least an hour away, and the Kryptonian mothership is already over Metropolis. We’ve got no time left.”

“We’ve got this, General,” Superman said, nodding at Batman. “Trust us.”

Placing his hands on his hips, Swanwick eyed both superheroes up and down. “Fine. Go.”

Superman took Batman by the waist and flew him up, spotting Batman’s jet already automatically coming toward their location with its cockpit open. Dropping Batman into the craft, Superman turned and flew in the direction he knew best – toward Metropolis.

“Batman, everything good?” Superman asked over his commslink.

“Yep,” Batman replied curtly. “Swanwick and the Air Force are locked out of our comms – we can hear them, but they won’t be able to hear us unless we want them to. I’ll keep behind you, but I won’t be able to take as much flak as an entire airwing.”

“Hopefully, you won’t have to,” Superman replied. Already, he could see the Kryptonian mothership in front of him in the distance. A blue beam emanated from its core into the ground, and the destruction it was causing was plainly visible to him. It only made Superman want to push harder, to fly a little faster, but leaving Batman behind was not particularly conducive to a two-prong attack if both prongs showed up separately at different times.

“Coming up on the mothership,” Batman said over the comms. “I’ll go high and you go low.”

“Roger that,” Superman responded. He swooped downward, descending through the high-rises and skyscrapers of Metropolis’ central business district at astounding speed. The destruction was immense. Cars were flattened, buildings were crushed, and the people, the ones that didn’t make it out during the evacuation of the city… what Clark saw boiled his blood and made him want to rage in anger. They were regular folks, normal people just going about their daily lives and routines when Zod showed up to take it all away from them. It wasn’t fair to them at all.

“There’s a strange gravitational field around the mothership,” Batman reported. “I can’t fly too close, and nothing I fire even comes close to landing.”

Superman didn’t respond, instead booming through the nearly empty streets of Metropolis and coming ever closer to the three legs of the mothership. He cocked a fist back, fully intent on shredding right through the ship and finding out what the largest example of Kryptonian shipbuilding had to offer in terms of durability. Before he could, though, a figure burst through a building on his right and collided directly into him, causing them both to slam into a neighboring building’s office floor. Thankfully, it was deserted, but Superman still cautiously rose and looked around with his x-ray vision before turning to the figure.

“Zod,” Superman snarled. The Kryptonian general had decided to shed his armor and mask, donning a black outfit and flowing cape that almost looked like a dark mirror of his own. Even the crest on Zod’s chest was similar in shape yet different in design.

“Kal-El,” Zod said calmly. He strode forward, causing Superman to involuntarily take a step back. “I have been expecting you.”

“What have you done?”

“What I always planned to, Kal.” Zod raised both of his arms up to the sides. “This… all of this. What the humans call ‘civilization’ is nothing more than a backwater. You would never have seen something like this on Krypton outside the annals of distant history. At our peak, we spanned across the entire planet, cities alone as populous as this world, and we harnessed all it had to offer.”

“Is that why Krypton died? Because you and your people exhausted all it had for your own ends?”

Zod made an expression that bordered between frustration, anger, and superiority. “And what do you know of Krypton’s destruction, son of El?”

“I know what Kara told me,” Superman responded. “I know that your high council didn’t realize what they were doing until it was too late, and that my father and uncle were the only ones that figured it out.”

“Ah, Kara Zor-El – the traitor,” Zod sneered. “She is a young and foolish girl, naïve to her core and lacking perspective and understanding. As with all at that age, she believed that she alone knew the truth. No, Kal-El; there were many things she did not understand.” Zod began to stride obliquely to Clark across the carpeted office floor. The lights above him blinked erratically, and sparks flew out of dislodged ceiling tiles from the damage their landing had caused. “The Council had discovered the follies of their ways when it was already too late to stop it. That much is true. But what Kara did not understand was that I had already persuaded the Council and formulated a plan to ensure the survival of our people, even if they could not do the same for our world. Everything I did was with their tacit consent, down to me and my people becoming exiles to escape the destruction of our world.”

Superman scrunched his face. “So, you and your council abandoned everyone else? That just sounds like bad governance.”

Zod stopped, turning to face Superman directly. “Do you understand what we went through?” His eyes were almost bulging in their sockets, and spittle flew out his lips. “To know that our world and our people were about to be destroyed and that we were the last hope for survival? To know that we alone would escape doom and awake to see nothing but the ashes of our people in the debris field of our once-great civilization?” Zod clenched his fists. “You do not understand. You can never understand. Jor-El sent you to this world when you could scarcely open your eyes. Even Kara Zor-El has more perspective than you.”

“Maybe so,” Superman admitted. “But that doesn’t mean that I’ll let you destroy my world like you destroyed your own.”

“I want you to try as hard as you can, son of El,” Zod cruelly smiled, the expression little more than a mockery of what a smile should have looked like. “Once I defeat you and take the Codex from your corpse, I will rebirth Krypton on this world in the blood of humanity – a greater Krypton than has ever existed.”

Superman didn’t deign to respond to Zod’s maniacal schemes, shooting forward instantly with a punch ready. However, before he could throw it, Zod kicked with one foot into Superman’s chest, sending him tumbling through floors of the building before emerging into the open street on the other side.

“I was born, Kal-El,” Zod continued as floated down, “to be the perfect warrior. Nothing less could be expected for Krypton’s guardian. I spent my entire life honing myself for that purpose. I mastered my senses on this world instantly, and when I had found what it had done for you, I bathed myself in that yellow star you call a Sun. Did you really think that because you landed a single blow, you stood a chance against me?” Zod’s eyes glowed a dark red. “I am superior in every way. I was designed to be.”

Angry beams of heat vision, almost crackling like lightning, poured forth from Zod’s eyes, slicing through the concrete road and almost hitting Superman before he leapt out of the way. But almost in the blink of an eye, Zod was there again, a punch flying out that caught Superman in the jaw and sent him flying down the street. The shockwave from the blow shattered the windows of nearby buildings.

“I awoke twice in this life, Kal-El,” Zod remarked almost casually, floating slowly toward Superman in an upright pose. “Once, when I was born. And a second time, when I remembered a lifetime of memories that I did not live.”

Superman’s brow furrowed in confusion as he pushed himself off the ground.

“In that other life,” Zod carried on, “that other time, I was right here on this planet. And the attempts of that world’s warriors were just as futile against me as yours is today. The man in the plane,” Zod looked up at Batman’s aircraft, flying around the perimeter of the Kryptonian mothership. “There was one like him there too.” He turned back to Superman. “Shall I tell you how he died there, or shall I show you firsthand?”

Without waiting for a response, Zod took off toward Batman’s craft.

“No!” Superman yelled, pressing his commlink as he flew upwards in pursuit of Zod. “Bruce! Incoming at nine o’clock, under you!”

Batman didn’t respond, but he clearly heard it because he swerved as Zod approached. Even so, Zod shot right through the craft’s left wing, causing the entire plane to spin out of control and spiral toward the ground. Superman immediately pulled up beside the cockpit, tearing back the glass and taking Batman, who had unstrapped already, under his arms to pull him to safety.

“That was close,” Batman remarked as he watched his no doubt multi-million-dollar plane crash in a fireball against the side of a building.

“Too close,” Superman agreed, looking up in the sky where Zod was looking down at them. “You know Zod can hear everything we say, right?”

“I figured,” Batman’s gruff, robotic tone replied. “But there’s nothing we can do about that.”

“We’re going to need to rethink our approach here. He’s got us outgunned by himself. He doesn’t even need an army if the two of us are fodder for him. He’s just as fast and strong as I am, and frankly he’s better at using it than me as well.”

Batman followed Superman’s stare toward Zod, though Superman was certain that even with his armor’s enhanced sensors, Zod was far out of sight for the human. “Well, I’m out of ideas for now.”

“Damn. I was really hoping you had something cooked up in that big brain of yours.”

Traitor.

That was the word that rang in Kara’s head, echoing constantly as she roared in anger and desperation and righteous fury, her hands still clasped onto Faora’s shoulders as she pushed the two of them past the rocky cliffs of the desert and over a blue sea.

Traitor.

The water beneath quickly turned into land, first rolling hills and then scattered trees. Settlements ranging from small villages to cities flew past, but Kara only yelled harder as Faora tried to push her off. She kept her grip tight on the woman who had called her that.

Traitor.

Kara was no traitor. Not to Krypton, which she believed in up to the day it exploded. Not to her family—her people—which she had put her faith in even beyond their deaths. She was loyal, perhaps even to a fault, to Zod, even after her memories flooded back in, until the proof of what he wanted to do and of the atrocities he had planned for the people of Earth became too much to ignore. When his hand had finally found purchase in its grip around her throat—the bruises of which still stung on her neck. Yet—

“Traitor!” Faora growled.

If looks could kill, Kara would have been dead already. Their faces were barely apart, and as they flew, Kara’s hair brushed against Faora’s face depending on the flow of the wind around them. Faora’s defiant expression stared Kara right in the face, and her blue eyes glared daggers. Kara said nothing in reply and curved downward, straight into one of the green hills before them. Faora’s back went through first, exploding a mass of dirt and earth into the air as they both ended up sprawled on the other side, coming to a stop on the green grass.

Out of the corner of Kara’s eye, she saw Faora push herself up to her feet, her head falling back as she inhaled.

“Why, Faora?” Kara struggled out, also rising to her feet. Her red cape billowed out behind her as she stood. “Why would you do this? You know the ways of our people. The Krypton we grew up on—”

“No longer exists,” Faora finished. The older woman’s armor had been dented and battered in the impact, and Faora began to rip what was left of it off, leaving only her skinsuit with the symbol of the House of Ul on its chest. “That Krypton died. With it, the Sword of Rao. We have been reborn as the Sword of Krypton, the blade upon which our new world will be forged. Krypton must be reborn anew.” Faora closed her eyes, and she ascended.

Faora could fly.

It shouldn’t have been an unexpected development to Kara considering she could herself, but there was something strange in seeing Faora rise above her, obscuring the Sun behind her, as the older woman felt the rays of light on her and clearly reveled their warmth.

Sunrise on Krypton.

Rao’s light had barely become to creep over the horizon, cutting through the hills and mountains that made up much of Krypton’s surface. For Kara, she sat on the edge of a rocky cliff, her bare feet dangling freely as her summer dress blew slightly in the light breeze. Had it not been the summer season, it would have been too cold for a Kryptonian to wear so little outdoors at that early hour.

“Fancy a shurrima?” a familiar voice called out. Kara turned to see Faora behind her. The sub-commander was dressed in her usual fashion, a black skinsuit and hair shorter than even Kara’s. In her extended hand, she held a small shurrima fruit, a plump and juicy affair when it was ripe. From the color and size, Kara could tell this one was.

“Thanks,” Kara nodded, taking the offering. She bit into it as Faora took a seat beside her, relishing the sweet and tangy flavor. A stray line of juice dribbled down from the right corner of her lips, and Faora quickly rubbed it away with her thumb.

“For a high-born lady, you certainly lack table manners, daughter of El,” Faora commented, nibbling on her own fruit.

Kara giggled as she took another bite, leading to another drop of shurrima juice flowing where it shouldn’t have. “What table, Faora? I see none here.”

Faora playfully rolled her eyes before returning to her own shurrima.

Kara examined the older woman for a moment, watching Faora sink her teeth into the flesh of the shurrima and pull back, a trail of saliva running from her lips to the marks on the fruit. Unlike her, Faora left no juice to waste, quickly slurping on the bite to suck in the stray sap within. Her lips danced on the skin of the fruit to form a seal.

They had only met a month prior, when Kara had reached out to General Zod just days after being given the datachip to contact him. The man had introduced her to Faora personally, giving the older woman the responsibility of overseeing Kara for her time with the Sword of Rao. Not that the other woman was much older than her. Despite Kara’s recent coming of age into her majority, Faora was still young herself by Kryptonian standards; not more than a fifth into her expected lifespan.

Almost immediately, Kara had found herself captivated by Faora. She was so unlike any woman that Kara had known in her life thus far. Her mother she had never seen beyond the confines of the home and household that her father had established. Her aunt she rarely saw at all. Beyond that, the maids that aided in the maintenance of their house did their best to not be seen, save Glora, Kara’s personal maid. But even then, Kara had known from a young age that Glora was always going to be subservient to her despite their difference in age. It was a natural conclusion from their statures in society.

That was not the case with Faora. The House of Ul stood below that of the House of El, but Kara wouldn’t have known that from how Faora treated her. And it wasn’t as if the other woman had looked down on her for being high-born. No, Faora treated her… like her. Like a real person, not a station in society. In all fairness, she did that for everyone that Kara had seen her interact with. Perhaps it was how she had been engineered in the genesis chamber. Maybe it was the result of her tenure in the Warrior Guild. But whatever it was, it had endeared Kara to her almost immediately.

Even Faora’s name was unique on Krypton; unlike every other woman that Kara had known, Faora never introduced herself with her father’s name – she was always ‘Faora-Ul,’ never ‘Faora Hu-Ul.’ In fact, Kara had not even known the name of the other woman’s father until weeks after meeting her. There was something fascinating in that, like Faora was unfettered by the concerns of her house and father, unburdened by the lineage she had come from. She was a woman who looked in the present and to the future, not behind into the past. Kara could scarcely imagine such an existence, yet Faora was right in front of her.

“Thoughts?” Faora’s voice came through.

“It’s ripe,” Kara replied, finishing off the last bit of her fruit. She looked at her fingers, which were now sticky with shurrima juice.

“I have been doing this for many cycles,” Faora noted, seeing Kara try to lick her own fingers free of the sticky residue. The Warrior sub-commander reached for her canteen, pouring into her other cupped hand and slathering her own first, which were no doubt as sticky as Kara’s. “I would hope that I know what I am doing.”

Reaching over with still-wet hands, Faora took Kara’s and held them, covering them as well and slowly wiping away the residue.

“Thank you,” Kara whispered.

Faora smiled, her head turned to Kara. A stray beam of light shot across the sky, illuminating half of Faora’s face in the red-orange glow of Rao. Faora took her hands back, leaving Kara’s suddenly cold, and used one to partially obscure her eyes.

“And now Rao rises,” Faora breathed out. “I have seen this many times, but I never cease to be amazed by His presence.”

Kara didn’t watch the sunset; she watched Faora bathe in it instead.

“I had hoped that you would see reason, daughter of El,” Faora called out from the sky. “I believed that you would.”

Kara looked in time to see Faora speed toward her, taking her by surprise as she was suddenly flung into the sky. Regaining her balance, Kara could only steady herself in mid-air in time to be taken by Faora by her mid-section in a mirror of how they were positioned before.

They flew over low rooftops of red rounded tiles, a far cry from the tall skyscrapers, as they were called, of the cities that she had seen on this world or even the rustic constructions that dominated much of Alegab. With her vision, she could see humans stopping to gawk at the two of them, barreling through the sky over the countryside of whatever region they were in.

This time, Kara had little control, unable to exert enough force to break out of Faora’s grasp or to fly freely. They collided into something—a building, Kara thought, if the crumbling debris around them was any indication—and Kara felt the impact of stone bricks against her back as Faora used her momentum to fling Kara into another structure across the stone path. Somewhere behind Faora, a loud ringing sound echoed out as a massive metal bell collapsed onto the ground. Kara’s body collided with the wooden beams that made up the building’s structural supports, causing its roof to collapse in and bury her under rubble.

The cave was relatively dark, but it had been made into a place where people worked and where some had even taken to sleep in. Of course, at this early hour and on that particular day, no one other than Kara and Faora were there.

Two months had passed since Kara had joined the Sword of Rao, and the day of their planned demonstration to the Council moved ever closer. While that took precedence over the rest of the Sword’s activities, Faora had taken Kara under her wing and trained her in all manners of knowledge – at least those that a Warrior like Faora could pass on to a one-day Thinker like Kara.

The two women were about the same height, but Faora had a distinct advantage in build over the lithe Kara, whose body reflected her high-born status and her destined profession. Faora, like all Warriors, had broad shoulders and defined musculature, made all the more visible and apparent by the sleeveless shirts that they wore for their spar. Their skinsuits had to be eschewed; it was already hot enough as it was, much less with the full-body garment that was favored by those of the Sword of Rao.

“Concentrate, daughter of El,” Faora murmured, her stance impeccable from pre-birth genetic imprinting followed by years of training. “Anything less would have you lose in real combat.”

“Where will I fight someone for real?” Kara huffed in response, her own arms at the ready. Truth be told, she was already tiring rapidly, but she didn’t want to show that kind of weakness in front of Faora. She couldn’t.

Seeing an opening on Faora’s right due to their relative positions, Kara switched stances so that her left hand was in front of her right, jabbing with her left. However, Faora quickly knocked the jab out of the way, taking advantage of Kara’s still-extended left arm to pull the younger woman forward and down. Faora fell, controlled, onto her back, her feet wrapping around Kara’s waist as they flipped on the ground such that suddenly Kara felt herself with her back on the cold rock floor and Faora on top of her, straddling Kara’s waist with a hand on Kara’s collarbone. Despite the position, the weight of Faora on top of Kara was not particularly heavy, though it locked Kara out of any possible movement.

“Yield,” Faora command. Her short hair, usually styled upward, was slick with perspiration and fell in a messy manner over her forehead. A few beads of sweat even rolled from Faora’s face onto Kara’s own. The contrast of their tones, Faora’s lighter skin against Kara’s tanned shade, was almost unnoticeable even in the dimly lit cave, with their figures seeming almost intertwined as one. Kara was not alone in her fatigue; Faora was breathed heavily as well, though she hid it as best she could with her lips slightly parted to intake and exhale more air.

“I yield,” Kara whispered. Faora faintly smiled and rolled off of Kara, standing up as she extended a hand to her. Kara accepted the gesture, and Faora pulled her to her feet with surprising strength – though at this point, perhaps Kara shouldn’t have found it surprising. After all, Faora was a mighty Warrior.

“In real combat, you should never expect such an offer, Kara,” Faora noted, wiping herself off with a small towel before tossing it to Kara. “You must fight to the end, because your enemy will as well. That is what all Warriors are taught – a wisdom born from the tried experiences of countless generations.”

“I understand,” Kara nodded, wiping herself as well with the slightly damp towel. Faora took a drink from her canteen before passing it to Kara, who likewise took a long draught of the cool liquid within. “But I do not think that I will ever be in that position, Faora. I am to be a Thinker, not a Warrior.”

Faora looked at Kara with a strange expression, one that Kara couldn’t quite parse properly despite having come to know the other woman closely over the two months they had been together.

“The time may come, my dear daughter of El, when we no longer have a choice, and when all of our destinies will be decided by the choices that we must make rather than the ones we would want to make.”

Kara rose from the rubble, raising her head to look at Faora across the street. Already, the inhabitants of the village fled, running as fast as they humanly could as two goddesses from the sky brought destruction across their homes.

“It is not too late,” Faora called out. “General Zod is a generous leader. If you prostrate yourself before him and confess your crimes, forgiveness is possible.”

Kara shook her head, balling up her fists in anticipation. “There is no forgiveness from Zod that I would accept, and I would never deign to bow my head before a tyrant like him.”

Faora scowled, clear frustration visible on her face. “Why must you be so obstinate, Kara? He is the only hope for Krypton, for what is left of our people. Why must you stand against us and not with us?”

Kara walked forward into the middle of the road, and Faora did nothing in response. “It took me a long time to accept it, Faora, but Krypton is gone. That world is never coming back, no matter what we do.” Her eyes were defiant. “We should not murder an entire world of people for our own desires and a vain dream, no matter how attractive that dream is.”

“You still hold the humans above your own people,” Faora said, looking like she was struggling not to cry. “I am… disappointed.”

“So am I,” Kara responded. “I wish it had never come to this, but you and Zod brought us here. Please forgive me for the choices I had to make.”

A memory of remembrance seemed to flicker within Faora. “Yes,” she whispered. “The choices.”

Without warning, Faora shot toward Kara, closing that small gap of a few steps within a single heartbeat, her fist raised. But Kara was ready, and she parried the strike before using Faora’s momentum to throw the other woman into the rubble of the building that Kara’s body had previously destroyed. Before Faora could recover, Kara was there, and she pulled Faora from the wreckage to take their battle out of the city and into the valleys beyond.

Faora kicked out, forcing Kara to separate so as to not be hit, and the two ended up stationary in mid-air, staring at each other.

“You have made your choice,” Faora intoned, her expression vacant. “I have made mine.” Faora loked at the valley beneath them. “This world will be the foundation for a new Krypton. That is my choice. That is the choice I have to make. I will defeat you, and then we will extract the Codex from Kal-El’s body to rebirth a new generation of Kryptonians.”

Kara felt that familiar anger rise within her at Faora’s words – that anger that had once come against Zod in another life, when Zod had said something similar. And suddenly, she felt it. Behind her eyes, the searing heat that boiled over into more.

Frenzied red beams burst out of Kara’s eyes, taking Faora by surprise as the other woman tried to block it with her bare hand. There was a screech from Faora as it cut a gash across her palm, but Kara paid no attention as she took advantage of the vulnerability and struck Faora from above, sending her plummeting into the dirt of the valley below with a heavy thud. Kara descended just as quickly, falling on top of Faora, one of Kara’s legs on each side of Faora’s torso and pinning her to the ground.

“Yield!” Kara cried, her eyes still glowing red, and her right fist still cocked at the ready. She had regained some of her composure. “Do not make me do this. Face the justice of this world instead!”

“Never,” Faora snarled, though even her voice and expression betrayed a long-hidden weariness. Kara saw tears welling in Faora’s eyes. “I will never yield, and I will never kneel before humans. I must not for Krypton’s sake.” Faora shook under Kara, unable to escape—though Kara wasn’t sure if the shaking was from an attempt to fly away or from something else entirely. “Do what you must, Kara, because I will never stop. I will do whatever I have to! I will defeat you, and kill Kal-El, and destroy all of the humans you hold dear to bring back—”

Kara roared to cut Faora off as that anger returned like uncontrollable bile, her heat vision raging forth in angry streams onto Faora’s chest as Kara slammed her fist into the other woman’s jaw. Faora shrieked in pain, but Kara ignored it, sending punch after punch into the other woman even as the heat vision melted through her skinsuit, disintegrating the symbol of the House of Ul, and cut into her alabaster skin.

And then, it was over as fast as it began, with Kara’s head still pounding and heart racing, as she realized her knuckles were bruised and covered with Faora’s red blood. The other woman’s howls had died to little more than a whimper as the heat vision had seared her chest, cutting through her breast into the organs beneath. Her jaw was dislocated from the force of Kara’s attacks, the skin of her face discolored and her nose broken.

“No,” Kara whispered. “What have I done?” She quickly cupped Faora’s ruined visage in her hands. “Faora!” Kara ran a hand through Faora’s hair as she brought Faora’s head closer to her own.

The older woman spluttered slightly, blood coming up with every breath. Her chest rose and fell erratically and wheezed with pain and effort. One of Faora’s hands clasped weakly onto the hand that Kara had rested on Faora’s shoulder. Her eyes, barely focused, finally fell onto Kara.

“I am proud,” Faora struggled out, “of the Warrior you have become.” Tears fell from the other woman’s eyes. “But if only you… had not… betrayed your own people…” She gave one last great cough, hacking blood that flew onto Kara’s face. “K…ara…”

Faora went limp in Kara’s arms, her hand falling away from Kara’s, her eyes open yet unseeing forevermore.

Kara shook. Faora’s blood still dripped from Kara’s face, and Kara’s hair splayed out messily across her eyes. Her mind was a fractured kaleidoscope of emotions, each racing in competition to dominate what was left of her coherent thoughts. She cradled Faora’s broken body in her arms, hugging the dead woman as tears flowed freely down her cheeks. There was nothing left for her to do. Her opponent, her enemy—once an ally, a mentor to be looked up to, and even a friend and more—was dead, and with her, that last little bit of Kara that had been bound and tethered to the rocky vistas and orange skies of Krypton. She had committed one of the high crimes out of justified necessity, ripping a little out of her own heart and soul in the process. So, she did the one thing that felt natural and necessary in that moment, so full of anguish and despair, so uncertain at the future that her own actions had brought forth.

Kara screamed.

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

Barry ran across the Atlantic Ocean at a moderate pace, making sure that Wonder Woman and Green Lantern were keeping up with him. Running on water at a reduced speed wasn’t particularly easy. There were a multitude of factors to consider, ranging from ensuring that his speed didn’t drop low enough to render his footfall pressure high enough to simply sink with each step to making sure that he didn’t accidentally kick through a wave, break surface tension, and topple over into the water. At full speed, he could just zip past until he ran out of fuel, but he figured that getting there before the big guns flying above him was probably not the best idea.

Their comms with Superman and Batman had been down just like it had been for Kara and Aquaman’s team. If it wasn’t for the fact that he and Lantern had stayed in constant communication even during battle, he would’ve seriously questioned the utility of having the commlinks and this Batman’s engineering capabilities.

Well, maybe he wouldn’t go that far.

At the horizon, the skyline of Metropolis—and a conspicuously out-of-place Kryptonian ship floating in the middle of skyscrapers, its blue beam of doom still shooting into the earth—loomed ahead. Despite the distance, the destruction was evident from the crushed skyscrapers and buildings that circled the Kryptonian mothership.

Barry preemptively quashed that familiar rising fear. There was no time for him to fear. And with the Justice League—plus a Green Lantern and a Supergirl, minus one Cyborg—he felt like he didn’t need to fear anymore. For the first time in years, that sight of the Kryptonian ship in the middle of Metropolis didn’t fill him with that feeling.

It filled him with determination.

No one else was dying to Zod if he could help it. That determination made Flash run faster, speeding across the ocean toward the Port of Metropolis.

“Batman, come in,” Flash said, pressing his commlink. There was no reply from the Dark Knight.

“Yo, Flash!” Lantern’s voice came over the comms. “Slow down! We can’t keep up back here!”

“I’ll run ahead for recon,” Flash quickly replied. “First sight of Zod, I’ll scram. I’m gonna see if I can find Batman to get our comms with him and Supes back online.”

He took off even faster before Lantern could respond. Water turned into concrete as he sped past shipping containers, huge metal cranes, and warehouses, and he broke right through the wooden barrier gate bar that controlled port entry in mere seconds as he sped toward the city proper. There were still people fleeing the city on the outskirts, but as he ran closer to the business district, the crowds thinned out dramatically. Most notably, there was a distinct lack of aircraft in the sky, which meant Batman had to be on the ground. If he was still alive at all.

Barry came to skidding stop when he finally saw the edge of the gravity field that the Kryptonian ship generated, rising and falling just like it had in his memories. Shaking his head, he turned and ran parallel to the edge of the field, skimming the circumference of the area of effect and zipping through the alleyways and streets of downtown Metropolis. In his semi-educated, somewhat-reasonable opinion, Batman, being the man that he was across the multiverse, would never elect to be far from danger, and eventually he had to find him. Running up the side of a medium-rise building, he finally found him, still clad in thick metal armor, standing on the rooftop and looking up at the Kryptonian ship.

“Flash,” Batman grunted, not even deigning to turn around. “I assume comms are down, or you would’ve called ahead.”

“Only between channels,” Flash replied. “Lantern and I remained in constant communication.”

“Hm,” Batman intoned. He looked down to tap a few commands on small screen mounted on the inside of his left forearm. “The same for me and Superman. I’m resetting the commlink system, then. We need full team contact.”

As the two waited for Batman’s comm network to reboot, a booming sound above their heads drew the attention of both men. Barry looked up to see a small object speeding down, a faint orange glow visible from the friction of atmospheric re-entry. The object split into two, the first remaining stationary in the air while the second plummeted toward a high-rise office building.

“Superman,” Batman confirmed, his helmet’s magnification far more powerful than Barry’s unaided eyes.

“Is he kicking Zod’s ass or getting his ass kicked?” Barry squinted, but all he could make out was a figure floating in the sky with what appeared to be a cape. He couldn’t even quite tell what color outfit the figure was wearing.

“He’s not winning,” Batman admitted.

The commlink finally burst to life, overlapping voices coming in.

“Clear the channel,” Batman ordered, his voice—despite remaining at the same volume—overriding those of all others. The commlink indeed went quiet. “Aquaman, report in.”

Barry could hear a sigh of exhaustion from the other end. “Aquaman here,” Aquaman finally said. “We took out both Pacific world engines, but we got chewed up in the process. We’ve returned back to Atlantis already. No way we can hit the Indian Ocean one with what I’ve got left.”

“We took out the ones in Nairomi and Bialya,” Flash quickly replied, his finger on his commlink. “I regrouped with Batman and—” Barry stopped to see Superman blast out of a collapsing high-rise building toward Zod, “Superman in Metropolis. Lantern and Wonder Woman will be joining us soon.”

“Wonder—who?” Aquaman asked.

“You’ll meet her later,” Batman said, ending that line of inquiry. “No time to rest, Aquaman. Stay on standby off Metropolis in case we need to call you and your forces in.”

Aquaman huffed, but then grunted in what Barry perceived to be in the affirmative before he cut his end off. Batman turned to Flash. “I assume Wonder Woman is Diana Prince.”

Barry nodded.

“I’ve been trying to contact her for weeks. How did you find her?”

A shrug in response. “She found us, to be honest. Said she saw us on the news and had to help.”

Batman stared impassively at Flash, though most of that was likely due to his expressionless helmet. “I see. Batman to Lantern.”

“Lantern here,” Lantern responded. “We’re probably five minutes out, ETA-wise.”

“And the newcomer is beside you?”

“Yep.”

“Pass her your commlink.”

“Ouch,” Lantern replied, but Flash still heard the sound of rustling as Lantern took the commlink out of his ear. Another round of rustling later, and the familiar-accented voice of Wonder Woman came online.

“Is this Bruce?” Wonder Woman asked with some mirth. “You’ve been chasing me at galas across Europe for some time now, but this isn’t the way I expected us to finally meet.”

“Wait,” Lantern’s voice spoke out in the background over the wind. “Bruce?” There was a pause, and Flash could almost hear the gears grinding in Lantern’s brain. “Wait, like Bruce Wayne? Is Batman actually Bruce Wayne?”

Flash was certain that there was some amount of teeth grinding behind Batman’s helmet. “Diana,” the Dark Knight greeted impassively. “It’s good to have you onboard.”

“Onboard what, exactly?” Wonder Woman’s question came back. “I still do not quite understand what you’ve been trying to recruit me for.”

“But you see the need now, clearly.”

“Indeed,” Wonder Woman admitted.

“We can talk the details later,” Batman finally said. He turned to the port. “I see you both, and I suspect you can see us. Regroup here and we can talk strategy.” Another boom echoed above them, and Flash and Batman both looked up to see Superman and Zod struggling against each other, crashing through another set of buildings even as the Kryptonian mothership continued to flatten an increasing area around itself.

Sure enough, Flash saw Lantern and Wonder Woman fly toward them in a matter of moments, coming to a stop a few feet above the rooftop in front of them.

Batman unclipped a pouch on his belt and tossed a small object to Lantern, who barely caught it and plugged it into his own ear.

“Everyone’s online now,” Batman said. “We need to help Superman and take out the Kryptonian ship since Aquaman’s team couldn’t hit the Indian Ocean world engine.”

Flash, Lantern, and Wonder Woman nodded in agreement.

“Lantern, get me and Flash into the Kryptonian ship. Wonder Woman,” Batman ordered, “help Superman.” Without waiting for a response, Batman jumped off of the rooftop into a glide with his cape, and Lantern immediately conjured separate bubbles around the Dark Knight and Flash to lift toward the Kryptonian ship. Behind him, Flash half-turned to see Wonder Woman leap toward Superman and Zod’s fight, away from them.

“What’s the plan here, Bats?” Lantern said. He had combined both of the green spheres, also bringing himself within the confines of his creation. “It’s going to be a really bumpy ride to the ship.”

“Get us there, and I’ll see what I can do inside to shut it down,” Batman intoned.

The gravity field took hold of their green sphere of life and protection, and they shot up and down with it even as Lantern struggled to keep them from being flung around like ragdolls or getting smashed into bits against the ground.

“Holy mackerel,” Lantern swore, his arm shaking as he repaired cracks in the sphere as quickly as they appeared. “This really doesn’t need to be this difficult.”

“Only way to the ship,” Flash stated.

As they approached the Kryptonian mothership, Lantern used the upward force from the gravity field in a slingshot-like effect to catapult them to the top of the ship. The sphere landed just about in the center, and Lantern let it go long enough to conjure a giant pair of tweezers that punctured into the hull of the ship and pulled open paneling to reveal a corridor inside.

“Go!” Lantern yelled as the gravity field reached its zenith. Flash and Batman jumped in with Lantern following behind just as they felt the aftershock of the gravity field sending everything plummeting to the ground again.

Inside the ship, the effects of the gravity field were nonexistent – as were any personnel or guards.

“There were definitely a lot more people here before,” Lantern commented. “Where’d they go, to the other outposts around the world?”

Flash looked around, frowning. “None of those had more than a handful of Kryptonians. Unless Zod only had twenty to start with, that wouldn’t explain why there’s no one here.”

Batman didn’t say anything, striding forward until they reached the closed door that in front of what Flash presumed was the command center of the ship. Placing a few shaped charges on the door, Batman turned away and triggered them, sending a blast inward to the command deck and blowing a sizable hole in the middle of the closed hatch. Batman stepped through first, and Lantern looked at Flash and shrugged as he flew through the new opening. Flash followed last, looking around as he came in.

It was an open space with a large viewport at the front. A number of consoles off to the side had blinking lights, but the most conspicuous thing was the distinct lack of people.

“It’s like a ghost ship,” Flash murmured. “Zod came to Metropolis alone?”

“He may have spread his forces too thinly,” Batman replied, sitting down in front of one of the consoles, though his tone didn’t seem to convey a sense of confidence in his own assessment. He examined the consoles before promptly standing back up. “New plan – we’re going to destroy this ship from the inside.”

“Didn’t exactly find a USB port on there, huh?” Lantern remarked, crossing his arms. Batman shot him a look.

“We need to take this thing down. I’ll place charges here. Flash, you take Lantern to the reactor core with these.” Batman extended a handful of charges, which seemed to magically appear from his utility belt. “Strategically placed, we should be able to bring the whole ship down.”

“Right-o,” Flash replied. He took the charges and shoved them into Lantern’s hands before grabbing Lantern in his arms. “Come on, Barbie.”

Lantern frowned. “… uh, who’re you call—” His words were cut off by a shrill shriek as Flash sped off into the bowels of the ship with him.

He levitated in the sky, reveling the sheer, raw power that he felt flowing through his limbs. He hadn’t felt such pure capability in his entire life – not during his youth, or his training, or even when he first arrived on the backwater world that humanity called a home. The potent sensation of potentiality from what he was about to achieve was as ripe as an in-season shurrima, and he could almost taste that fruit’s juices on his lips once more after so long. Krypton was on the verge of becoming reality once more.

But for now, General Dru-Zod of Kandor was the mightiest being on the planet Earth.

Mightier than the scrawny brat Kal-El that called himself Superman. It was foolish for such a youth to believe that there was no one stronger than him. When Zod had arrived on this world, he had forcibly adjusted himself to its atmosphere almost immediately, forcing his lungs to breath in the toxic-seeming atmosphere of Earth and letting his eyes and ears be scorched by the tortuous assault of inane babble and sights. He had soaked in the radiation of Earth’s Sun, letting his body greedily drink its power as he expedited his own growth in strength to match that of a farmboy’s. He had done so because he remembered.

Zod remembered. He remembered a life that he did not live, battles he never fought, and a victory that he had been on the brink of.

It had been a cold spring morning on Krypton when he had first awoken and found that he was not himself – no longer the same Dru-Zod that had spent so many cycles honing himself in the treacherous terrain of Krypton. The pain that he had felt was immense, but he had forced his way through it in usual fashion, nonetheless. Such pain was no inhibitor to him. When that had been controlled, what he found were two Dru-Zods, so alike yet distinct in key aspects. One Dru-Zod had rose in rebellion against the Kryptonian Law Council in success, wiping out the five fools that had once ruled Krypton and capturing the infant Kal-El. However, he had failed to find the Codex even after extracting all that the infant had in his frail corpse, and he had to journey across the stars to find where Jor-El, the insufferable and arrogant betrayer, had sent his niece, Kara Zor-El.

When he finally found the last scion of the House of El, he remembered a battle in the desert. The humans that had fought against him were of little concern, and while the girl had put up a fight, she was ultimately no match for him – even with that human aiding her, running almost faster than his eyes could see. He remembered tracking their movements, finally catching her mid-blow and sending them both tumbling into the sand. He remembered striding to her, with Faora holding her upright, his dagger at the ready to pierce her frail body and rebirth Krypton with her blood. He remembered—

Nothing. There was nothing after that. On the cusp of victory, he had been robbed. Whatever had happened, all that was left was that he found himself in bed on that cold Kandor morning, with nothing but dual sets of memories conflicting with each othser.

This Dru-Zod was, in the past Dru-Zod’s estimation, defective. He was more variable and less committed to the steadfast goal and purpose of his existence. Was that a failure of this world’s Krypton, a weaker, flawed, and less perfect version of the Krypton that he remembered? Or was his past self’s version the aberrant in the equation? It did not truly matter.

Even now, Zod could not quite understand who or what he was, and frankly, he did not care. He was who he was. He was General Dru-Zod, the protector of Krypton. What he remembered, even across worlds and times, was of little consequence in the end. What was left at the end was himself, now equipped with two sets of memories and learning from failures and successes.

Hence the pain he endured in forcing himself into adapting to the atmosphere of the squalor around him. He needed the power it gave him, as loath as he was to admit it. Faora and some of the other sub-commanders under him had tried to do the same, though they had struggled far more with adapting to the painful air around them. It was no matter to him; if they could do that, then they would be all the more formidable to the world’s defenders, and if they didn’t, then they were still powerful beings on Earth. He alone was enough. His memories assured him of that. He had debased himself by donning their clothing and pleading in a way that made him seem weak, but he did so out of expediency. Now, he had three world engines instead of one, and this world would be transformed into a new Krypton all the faster.

“Kal-El,” Zod called out to the lesser Kryptonian that pulled himself out of the rubble beneath. “Why persist and delay the inevitable? Every moment you suffer now is another moment that I will add to my torment of your beloved humanity after this.”

“You’re insane,” Kal-El spat out, faint traces of blood on his teeth. “How can this be what Krypton was like?”

Zod didn’t reply and prepared a defensive stance as Kal-El shot toward him, but what he didn’t expect was a blow to the back of the head that sent him stumbling forward in the air, and as he regained balance, Kal-El’s fist smashed into Zod’s face and sent him onto the rooftop of a nearby building, where he cracked the concrete upon impact. He looked up to see two figures—an armored man and a red-suited man—standing there all of a sudden, and a burst of lightning later, which he could only half-perceive due to the sheer speed, the red-suited man was suddenly back where he started. Zod had tracked him coming toward him but didn’t see anything else. The red-suited man gave a little wave, and then Zod could hear a beeping from behind him.

He reached toward his back but couldn’t touch the source of the sound. The beeping could still be heard, and suddenly Zod felt the heat of small explosions on his back that pushed him off-balance and off the edge of the rooftop, which was followed by a powerful shield bash from the warrior woman that pummeled him out of the air and downward past the land, breaking the surface of the water outside the city in a hard landing.

Blinking as the water of the ocean hit his eyes, Zod came face-to-face with a human-looking face with considerable facial hair, wielding a trident. Said trident slammed into Zod before he could even react, sending him back out of the water and briefly into the air, where he was greeted by Kal-El and the warrior woman. They sent a joint punch into his sternum that flung him, out-of-control, into the sky just as Black Zero erupted into a fireball of destruction, its terraforming connection disrupted and flickering out of existence. He would’ve screamed in anger had his breath not been long since knocked out of him.

Zod felt himself spiral into the air backwards, spinning out of control from the force of that combined blow from Kal-El and the warrior woman. Before he could finally stabilize himself, Zod felt a pair of arms—thinner than his own and clad in the sleeves of a Kryptonian skinsuit—slip under his own arms from behind him, leveling him out as his back colliding against his savior’s chest.

“Faora,” Zod breathed out, panting slightly from the exertion of battle, “good. I require—”

“I am not Faora,” the figure behind him whispered into his ear. Zod’s eyes widened, and he whipped around out of her grasp, seeing the disheveled visage of Kara Zor-El, her short black hair falling over her glowing-red eyes.

A blow from the woman caught Zod off-guard faster than he could react at that point in his exhaustion, sending him tumbling back to earth as he felt hot beams tear through his skinsuit and burn his skin. He roared in anger, but it was a futile anger as he looked up into the sky to see a green man send a gigantic green craft straight into his chest. Zod plummeted straight down, falling into the middle of the excavated circle that Black Zero’s terraforming had created and into the midst of the debris from Black Zero’s destruction.

Breathing heavily and now bleeding from cuts, Zod pushed himself to his feet as he saw the group assembled before him. On the ground, three figures—a dark armored man, a red-suited man, and the bearded man that he seen only briefly underwater—stood defiantly as Kal-El and Kara Zor-El floated behind them with the green man and warrior woman.

“Do you think this is over?” Zod growled. His body shook ever so slightly from overexertion, but he pushed through the pain of his wounds and the aches of his muscles. “Do you think that you have won?”

“Surrender, Zod,” Kal-El calmly responded, floating forward. Like Zod, he looked worse for wear as well, though perhaps not as bad as Zod imagined he looked now. “That’s your only option.”

“Never,” Zod retorted. “By the memory of Krypton, I will never surrender. Not the least to the likes of you and her. You two are traitors to your own people, siding with the pathetic lifeforms of this planet.”

“Hold up,” the green man loudly said. “These ‘pathetic lifeforms’ just whupped your ass, dude.”

“I guess Kryptonian generals are crybabies,” the man with the trident agreed, mimicking a crying motion.

Rage intensified within Zod’s heart. His eyes burst out with heat vision, scorching the partially terraformed earth and scattering the assembled defenders. The warrior woman sped toward him, her shield partly blocking one of his beams, but as she swung her sword, he nimbly dodged and slammed her away with a swipe of his arm. She collided into the green man who was right behind her, and both tumbled away. A trident came flying toward him at breakneck pace and would’ve skewered anyone else, but Zod was Zod and caught it with a half-turn, sending it back to its owner with greater strength; the bearded man barely dodged out of the way, hitting the dirt to avoid being impaled by his own weapon. He shot another round of heat vision at the armored man, but Kal-El landed in front and blocked it with a grunt, the searing heat of the beams starting to cut into Kal-El’s skinsuit.

Kara Zor-El whipped around in the air to swing at Zod’s head, but he cut off his beams and grabbed her forearm, slamming her into the ground as he reached for her neck. She pulled back her head, but his grip found purchase around the high neckline of her skinsuit, tearing at it and pulling her up by the fabric. Zod tightened his grip on the ripped neckline of Kara Zor-El’s skinsuit even as she futilely hammed against his forearm.

“I should have snapped your neck in my hand the first time,” he snarled, surging power into his eyes—

Out of the corner of his vision, a red blur of lightning ran toward him, carrying a dark gray object toward him. Zod, without loosening his grip on her skinsuit, turned and saw, speeding toward him, that human. The one that had fought against him in the past. It was the speedster that had dared to stand against him, though to no avail. Zod reached out with his right hand—his left still clinging onto Kara—and swung.

Despite his own speed, the human was monstrously fast, and he passed through Zod’s swing. Zod had not missed – of that fact, he was sure. The human had simply phased through it somehow, the force of Zod’s punch passing harmlessly past the human in a shockwave of power that ballooned out in the air behind.

It was almost torment to Zod, with his eyes being just about able to keep up with the human’s movements—even if those movements were just a little too fast for Zod to make out the fine details—but his body being too slow and sluggish to react quickly enough to counter. The human passed through Zod’s arm in a burst of electricity, but the gray object, which Zod could now see clearly enough was a long and thin fragment of debris from the hull of Black Zero, passed through Zod’s arm – and then stopped, embedded in his shoulder.

Zod screamed as his nerve endings flared in hot fires of pain unlike anything he had ever physically felt before.

Finally, his grip on Kara Zor-El loosened, and she was whisked away by the human in his arms as quickly as the human had arrived. Zod paid no attention to that as he stared in horror at the stump of what had once been his arm. The rest of the limb sat limply on the ground, the faintest amount of blood starting to seep out of the clean cut.

Zod shook. For the first time in two lifetimes, he no longer felt confident. He no longer knew what he needed to do to win. He no longer knew if he could win at all.

He needed more power. And for that, he needed more time.

So, for the first time in any lifetime, Zod did the one thing he had to – he retreated.

“This is not the end!” Zod yelled, before shooting off into the sky as fast as he could, past the wreckage of Black Zero and all of his designs for Earth. He knew that, conceivably, Kal-El might have been able to match his speed, but he didn’t look behind him as he sped through the layers of Earth’s atmosphere and into the boundaries of space. There was no pursuit, and Zod bottled his rage within him as he set his course, knowing exactly where his destination was to be.

That rage would be saved for his revenge – on the weak Kal-El, on the traitorous Kara Zor-El, on that pesky fast human that seemed to cross him in every life, and on all of the other insects that inhabited that world.

With grim and cold determination, Zod flew away from Earth.

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

Just like that, the adrenaline coursed out of his body, and Barry sank to his knees in the ruins of what had once been America’s second-largest city. At least a good chunk of the city still stood – except for the downtown business core, which was little more than a flattened wasteland of both human and Kryptonian debris.

Where there were once skyscrapers that cut into the sky, there was nothing left but concrete and rebar ruin.

Where there had been a Kryptonian ship trying to destroy the Earth as they knew it, there was only a twisted pile of wreckage.

Looking around, everyone else seemed to be in the same boat Barry was. Aquaman was leaning quite heavily on his trident, Lantern was huffing and puffing as he sat on the ground, Wonder Woman had her hands on her hips as her brow and diadem were slick with sweat, and both Kara and Clark were holding onto each other – maybe quietly contemplating if they should have chased after Zod, though with the bloody gashes, injuries, and bruises both of them sported, neither looked like they were in any shape to pursue the Kryptonian general, at least in Barry’s estimation. Batman, for his part, seemed more or less fine, but given the thick power armor that he wore, Barry couldn’t really see much of the man underneath to begin with.

Already, an assortment of government personnel swarmed everywhere, pulling into the gravity field’s former area of effect in a myriad of different vehicles and flying overhead in all types of aircraft. Barry would’ve reacted more to the surge of human activity around a place where the population of normal, no-power humans had been precisely one only moment before, but he felt bereft of strength after everything that had happened. Crossing half the world in a single day and fighting superpowered aliens would do that, he supposed.

“Barry,” Kara whispered, lowering herself into a crouch to meet Barry eye-to-eye. “Are you okay?”

Frankly, perhaps Barry should have asked that to her. She looked quite a bit worse for wear than when they had first parted ways. Her black hair was partly gray from dust and ash, her eyes were red and puffy as if she had cut a box full of onions at some point before arriving in Metropolis, and her outfit was torn on its front from where Zod had ripped it, cutting from the polo-necked collar to the top of her suit’s crest and causing it to fall over the front of her chest like a flap. By comparison, he didn’t think he looked all that bad for what they had gone through.

“Yeah,” Barry murmured in reply, wanting to pull his cowl off but still doing the bare minimum to keep his identity a secret in public. “I’m okay. Are you?”

She blinked a few times, and the pause was a little longer than what would have been comfortable or normal. “I don’t know,” she finally replied. Her face settled into an expression that Barry could only describe as embodying a general sense of melancholy.

If her facial expressions could even be interpreted in a human-like fashion, that was. For the first time on a conscious level, Barry realized that unlike even Clark, Kara truly was alien; she wasn’t raised on Earth and hadn’t grown up with humans at all. It was an absolute miracle of coincidence—or perhaps evidence of some cosmic creationist tendency, in line with the existence of aliens the Speed Force, and even the multiverse—that Kryptonians were so phenotypically similar to humans from the features of their faces to the contours of their bodies, especially considering that their actual physiologies were clearly different in how they reacted in Earth’s atmosphere and to the yellow star that humanity called the Sun.

“Do you… need to talk about it?” Barry hesitantly offered. He wasn’t a therapist in the slightest – in fact, he could probably have used a therapist himself given everything that had happened, if he could find a therapist specializing in multiversal trauma. But as the other cross-timeline traveler and the one who had inadvertently caused everything to happen, he felt a certain weight of responsibility rest upon his shoulders for whatever Kara was experiencing. More likely than not, it was his fault. It was already his fault that she had to deal with the trauma stemming from having two sets of memories in her mind at all.

Kara pursed her lips, that tension still present in her face. “Yes,” she finally said. She stood back up and looked around. “But not here.” She extended a hand to Barry.

He accepted the hand, and with not-so-surprising strength, she effortlessly pulled him from his knees to his feet. Barry didn’t even need to engage his tired, aching legs to stand up, which was a nice break for someone that used his legs way too much to be healthy. His knees were probably going to be mush by the time he was middle-aged. He turned to Batman, who had been facing in their direction and no doubt watching—if not listening to as well—them. Barry pointed upwards and Batman nodded.

“We’ll deal with the authorities and cleanup here. Rendezvous at the regular meeting place when you’re done,” Batman gruffly said before turning away to Superman.

Kara turned back to Barry and took him in her arms, rising at a moderate pace into the sky. They remained upright as they flew, with Kara looking over Barry’s head as she held him slightly lower. He didn’t exactly know when he had become accustomed to this novel form of transportation, but he wasn’t complaining either. It was effortless on his part, and Kara’s grip was firm but gentle, so he barely even felt any pressure.

“Where are we going?” Barry asked, looking around. If his heading was correct based on the position of the Sun, it looked like they were moving north.

“Clark showed me a spot once,” Kara said, her voice still impassive. “I want to go there right now.”

“Sounds good,” Barry remarked. Kara didn’t respond, though, which only made him a little more worried than he’d already been.

She curved westward, flying over thick green forests until they came to an expanse of water that was as huge as the sea to Barry. The Great Lakes, in his guess. There was a seemingly uninhabited island off the coast, green and flush with trees. Kara brought them in, landing softly in a small open field of grass. When his feet touched the grass, she finally let go and pulled back, taking a few steps back as she looked at him.

“This is… nice,” Barry commented, looking around. He pulled off his cowl, ruffling his hair slightly and relishing in the early autumn breeze with eyes closed. He reopened them to see Kara examining him. “Really. I didn’t know there were places like this up here.”

“Clark said it was called a nature preserve,” Kara said, turning to look out over the lake. She fell into a silence, as if deep in thought. Her pensive mood made it hard for Barry to figure out how to broach any of the possible things that were bothering her. Before he could say anything, though, she initiated.

“Krypton was beautiful,” she began, a wistful note evident in her tone. “There were vistas of mountains and hills as far as the eye could see. And the sunrises were something to behold in summer. Warm enough to watch in the early morning, and the beauty of the light coming over horizon…” she trailed off.

She had mentioned Krypton before to Barry, but not like that. This time, it seemed to him that she was… mourning. And more than just the now-destroyed world itself.

“I would’ve loved to see it,” Barry replied, trying his best to imagine a planet with such views in his mind. An alien vista of rocky cliffs and formations, orbiting around a red star that left the planet cooler than Earth if the assumption was that it was in the same relative Goldilocks Zone.

She turned to him, tears beginning to well in her eyes. “It was a beautiful world, and it was filled with beautiful people.” She sniffled. “A world that I will never see again, and people I will never be able to reunite with.”

Barry wasn’t quite the smartest man alive like he was the fastest man alive, but he was by no means an idiot, and he could put two and two together. Kara, while obviously not in great emotional shape before the events of the day had occurred, was far more composed. She had even been composed up until they had arrived in Nairomi. The only thing that had happened between then and now was her going off to fight Faora and then showing up to battle against Zod. Of those two…

“Did you… did you know that woman?” Barry asked, deciding to hedge his bets. “… Faora?”

Kara shuddered as she breathed out, confirming Barry’s suspicions.

“Faora was,” Kara began, before her voice seemed to catch in her throat. She swallowed, wiping her tears away with a hand. “We were friends. Despite the short time we knew each other, she became my mentor. We…” she paused as if searching for words to fully encapsulate her memories, “shared many experiences, good and bad.”

Barry wasn’t quite sure of the full implications of that sentence, but it did say what he needed to know. “And you had to fight her in the end.”

“I—I did more than fight her. Barry, I killed her.” She lifted her shaking hands with a pained look. “I killed her with these hands, and these eyes.” She looked up, her dark eyes large and slightly unfocused, fresh tears pooling again. “I killed her. I killed Faora. I did—” She choked up and fell forward in distress. Barry sped toward her and held her in his arms, not letting her fall to the grass as she continued to shake in his arms, her tears turning into full-on sobbing as she could no longer hold back.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, pulling her deeply into his embrace and letting her cry into his chest. With his left hand, he gently brushed over the back of her head—something that he remembered his mother doing when he had been upset as a child—in a gesture of comfort, which also had the added benefit of brushing some of the more stubborn gray dust and particulates out of her black hair. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

They stayed like that for a period of time; Barry wasn’t sure if it had stretched into hours or if they were just there for minutes. Kara, who had clearly been holding a wellspring of emotions back, let it loose for once. This was nothing like Barry could recall from the past timeline he had seen Kara in; she had been largely impassive, almost impressively stoic other than in her combat against Zod. And even then, Barry had been a distant spectator, barely privy to what had occurred there because he had been embroiled in battle elsewhere.

This was new to him, not only in the sense of Kara opening up to him, but in general. He had never been considered the shoulder to lean on in his own original world. After his mother had been murdered and his father falsely imprisoned for it, he had few friends if any, and those he had were never nearly close enough for this kind of display. He had known Iris in college, but they weren’t ever really that close – certainly not as close as the younger Barry seemed to have been with his Iris. And Patty and Albert had been more antagonist co-workers than potential friends that he’d have crossed the street to avoid on a sidewalk. When he had finally found his friends—Bruce, Arthur, Victor, Diana, Clark and even Alfred—that were almost close enough to be family, he had still never provided that role. He had always gotten the sense that Bruce and Diana figured things out on their own, Clark had Lois and his mother, Arthur his own father, and Victor was largely absent due to his weighty responsibilities.

That left Barry in a spot where he just wasn’t used to this kind of display of emotion at all. In turn, he had bottled up his own – after all, if no one was going to show vulnerability to him, there was no one for him to show his own vulnerabilities to either. That left him in a strange, almost alien position, with Kara sobbing into him and having no idea what to do. So, all he could do was follow what the movies and shows and books all said someone was to do in that situation, embracing her firmly but not too tightly, letting her cry, and providing a presence.

Eventually, her sobbing died down to sniffling, and she grew stiller with steadier breathing.

Which left Barry with a conundrum – was he supposed to let go first, or was she?

Her, he decided, keeping his chin gently on the top of her head, not that it likely would’ve matter to the Kryptonian whether he actually rested the full weight of his head on hers. The warmth of her body was comforting to him, and the sheer amount of tactile sensation that he was experiencing was beyond rare for him as well. Before he had reunited with his mother all too briefly in the past world, he couldn’t really remember the last time he had been so intimate with someone else.

Kara sighed, sniffling slightly still, and looked up at him, their faces almost uncomfortably close. Barry finally withdrew, sensing that the moment she needed was over. But as they broke apart, they remained close; their arms fell back to their sides, but she didn’t retreat and neither did he.

“Um,” Barry began, “did you… erm, want to talk about her?”

Kara tilted her head ever so slightly.

“I mean,” Barry continued, adamantly keeping his hand down by his side and not scratching the back of his head in a self-effacing gesture, “maybe just, like, a good memory, I guess. Or something from when you guys were on Krypton. If you want,” he hurriedly added, trying to parse Kara’s expression. “It’s all up to you.”

She blinked at him a few times before slowing nodding. Turning to the lake, she strode past the green grass and onto the short strip of sand that constituted the island’s beach. Sitting down on the sand, she patted a spot beside her. “Come.”

Barry acquiesced quickly, jogging normally over to where she sat and plonking his own rear end into the sand. It was not quite as soft as he expected, and he winced slightly with gritted teeth as he felt the impact rattle through his hindquarters. The only indication that Kara had noticed was the slightest curl of her lip upward.

“Faora was… an intense person,” Kara remarked, looking out over the water. The sun, beginning its final descent over the horizon in the west, bathed their backs in a warm orange glow. “She always was. I suspect that it was just how she was born.”

From what little Barry knew about Krypton’s society, that last sentence was likely far more literal than it would’ve been on Earth.

“She took to me places I had never been before,” Kara admitted, a smile beginning to appear on her face as she dove into her memories. “Views I had never seen, and experiences I had never had before her. There was one time when she flew us out to a plateau, a little outside of Kandor.”

“Kandor?” Barry asked, before internally cursing himself from interrupting. But Kara didn’t seem perturbed by the question.

“Krypton’s last city,” she explained. “It was the home of all Kryptonians on the planet. I lived there as well, with my family, on the outskirts of the city in our villa.”

“I see,” Barry quickly nodded. “And so, this was outside of the city?”

“Yes,” Kara continued, “Faora had taken us outside of the city. This was not a normal course of action; the weather outside of Kandor was unpredictable, and entire reaches of the planet were considered uninhabitable from pollution and desecration. But where she took us wasn’t that far away. It was just outside the city’s official boundaries.” A pause. “Kryptonians… we are—were,” she instantly corrected, “not a people prone to stray outside of customs. Krypton had many traditions, and we followed them steadfastly. Mostly.” Kara shrugged. “My parents skewed a little further from the norm. My aunt and uncle even more so. I tried my best to keep in line, to not be an abnormality among my peers, but… you know that I was defective. An incomplete, imperfect Kryptonian."

"Well,” Barry spoke up, “that might’ve been the case by Krypton’s standards, but that doesn’t change what it made you into – a superhero. A Supergirl. Your choice to help us speaks volumes about who you are rather than what you were supposed to be, and I don’t think ‘imperfect’ is how I would describe you.”

Kara inclined her head slightly. “It… it took me a long time to even begin to think like that. And I do not know if I believe it yet – if I am what you believe me to be.” She looked up at him directly. “But thank you, Barry. Hearing that was pleasant.”

Barry faintly smiled in response. “So, customs and traditions?”

“Yes,” Kara picked up where she left off. “Faora was not unlike me, though I cannot say whether her gestation and birthing were affected in the same way mine was. She never seemed to be disobedient, unlike me in that regard. But she also had little patience for tradition. When someone challenged her, she retaliated, and when someone said no, that just made her want to go out and see why. That was just who she was. So, she took us past a line that almost all Kryptonians would have refused to cross, and it was worth it. The skimmer landed on this little plateau, out in the vast expanse of Lurvan where the only life you could find was wild animals. Rao had just begun to set, much like this one.” She gestured behind them, where the Sun was beginning to fall beneath the canopy of trees, its light scattered and barely making it through to them. “Faora set out a small, prepared meal, just light foods and delicacies, and offered for me to join her to watch Rao.”

“A picnic. That sounds nice.”

“Yes,” Kara acknowledged, her brow furrowing in thought. “That would be the equivalent word. I joined her on the rock that day, and we ate and laughed as we watched Rao descend. It was wonderful.” She smiled longingly, a look tempered by an almost-overwhelming sense of forlornness.

“Well, I, uh, I could grab some food if you want?” Barry offered. “If you’re hungry. Clark told me about this sandwich place he knows in Montreal, and I could probably find it real quick and the sandwiches are amazing there—”

Kara shook her head, cutting Barry off. “It is okay, Barry. I am a little hungry, to be honest, but I think I would rather just stay here right now.” Her eyes flicked to Barry for a moment and then back out at the darkening water. “With you.”

Barry swallowed, but nodded rapidly.

She took a handful of sand, letting the grains fall back down between her fingers. “Kandor had no bodies of water like this, nor sand in this form. Faora would have loved it here.”

Even Barry could hear the pain in her voice. He extended his left arm and placed it over her back, gently pulling her a little closer to him. She didn’t pull away, instead leaning in against his left shoulder.

“Faora was strong-willed and focused,” Kara murmured. “Perhaps too much for her own good. She could not see beyond the path that Zod had laid out for her because she had placed so much trust into him. And I could not persuade her from that belief, no matter what I did.” She shook her head, the motion rubbing into Barry’s arm. “I tried so hard.”

“It wasn’t meant to be, maybe,” Barry replied. “Sometimes, we can try all we want, but there are things we just can’t change. And there’re also things we shouldn’t change, even if we want to.”

Kara sighed. “I can believe that, but it does not feel good to do so.”

They watched the water, barely visible now that the Sun was almost over the horizon, for a little while in silence.

“What about you?” Kara suddenly asked. “I did not think about it before, but I do not actually know about you. When I first met you, you were already out of place and in the wrong world. What is your story? Where did you come from?”

Her question cut deeply. For the first time since his arrival, he realized how truly alone he was; Kara remembered him from the past world, but there was no one at all that remembered the timeline he had originally come from, the one where Zod had died, Superman had been killed, and the Justice League had stopped Steppenwolf in spectacular fashion. He was already an outsider in the world that Kara remembered him from – now this was him being an outsider-squared, a stranger in an even stranger land.

“My world,” Barry started, trying to figure out where to begin his story, “wasn’t all that different from this one or the past one we came from. It had a Superman, a Batman, a Wonder Woman, and an Aquaman too. No Green Lantern, though.”

“… and me?” Kara queried quietly, though she sounded like she already knew the answer.

“You… well, you weren’t there.” Barry slowly replied. “But there was this Kryptonian scout ship there. Clark discovered it years ago, before it was seized by the government and S.T.A.R. Labs after it crashed in the middle of Metropolis.”

“Was I on this scout ship?”

“We don’t know,” he admitted. “Clark said that when he first explored the ship, there was an open cryopod or something. I saw it myself when I, uh, when I… well, I saw it myself. Apparently, he checked the ship’s registry at some point, and there was a Commander Zor-El listed on the logs.” Barry paused. “You know, he’d always wondered if that was someone related to him – another member of his Kryptonian family that had somehow found their way to Earth at some point in the past. I guess now I know that it was someone related to him.” He looked up into the sky, where only a few stars were visible due to the light pollution. “I wish I could tell him about it.”

“The name would suggest that it was either my father or me, which would be… unusual,” Kara noted. “My uncle once told me that the last scout ships that Krypton sent out was millennia ago, long before we were born. The Explorer Guild has not existed in over ten thousand years.”

Barry shrugged, shifting Kara’s head slightly with the movement. “Spaghetti timelines.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing, it’s just something that Bruce, Batman that is—the one that you knew—once said to me and the other Barry. About how the multiverse worked, or at least how he thought it worked.”

“I see.” She was quiet for a few seconds. “What was Clark like on your world?”

“I, well, I didn’t actually meet him until after he had, um, until after he died.”

Kara sat up immediately, her head whipping around to him. Her eyes were wide. “What do you mean he died?”

Barry pursed his lips and lifted a finger. “I’m gonna have to start from the beginning, because it’s kind of a long-ish story.”

“I am not going anywhere.”

“Right,” Barry nodded quickly. “Well, like in your original world and in this world, Zod invaded Earth. Unlike this world, there was no Justice League. But unlike your world, there was a Superman. And honestly, by the time I knew him, he was a lot like this world’s Superman – just, you know, a good person that also happens to be really, really strong.”

Kara smiled at that.

“So, Superman killed Zod.” Kara’s smile became an expression of surprise, clearly taken aback. “Yeah, no, it was a pretty big fight in Metropolis, but he ended up killing him. I might’ve even been able to meet him that day because I was actually in the city, but I had just gotten my powers and…” Barry trailed off before shaking his head. “That’s not important. Anyway, that was how the world was first introduced to Superman – a major city getting destroyed. He had his fans, but there were also a lot of people angry with him. And one of those guys was… Batman.”

“Wait,” Kara interjected with some confusion. “I thought Batman was a good person.”

“He was. And is.”

“Then why would he fight Clark?”

Barry pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s a bit complicated, to be honest. I think the short answer is that Lex Luthor—he’s a really rich dude with some big mental problems—basically manipulated the situation into it. And he’s also the one who caused Superman’s death.”

“This Luthor person caused Clark’s death?” Kara’s tone was steady, but with an undercurrent of danger.

 “He created this… thing,” Barry tried to explain, gesticulating with his hands. “Like a really big monster, but Kryptonian. It could shoot lasers out of its eyes and everything – I only saw a bit of it on TV myself, but Bruce told me about it later. It took him, Clark, and Diana to deal with it, and it cost Clark his life.”

With an exhale, the energy seemed to leave Kara’s body, her shoulders sagging. She returned her head to its former position on Barry’s shoulder, resting against his body. “How did you come to know Clark, then?”

“Uh, alien invasion led by Steppenwolf – a big guy with spiky armor and horns. We had trouble facing him, so we used the Mother Boxes to resurrect Superman.”

There was a longer pause this time.

“It should be concerning that I am not even surprised anymore.”

“Heh,” Barry chuckled briefly. “Welcome to my world. Well, not literally, but you’re starting to get how crazy things were. There was a bit of a, er, scuffle, we’ll say, after the revival, but the main thing was that Clark coming back was huge since he beat Steppenwolf when the rest of us couldn’t. But it wasn’t enough. Things went wrong, the Mother Boxes united, and I had to do something that… well, something that has caused everything since.”

“What happened?” Kara questioned.

“The Unity—that’s the combination of all the Mother Boxes, which were, well, not important right now—but the Unity had formed, and it was going to destroy the entire planet, so I entered the Speed Force, and I ran faster than ever had before and turned back time.”

“Okay.”

“I guess when I put it like that, it doesn’t seem so impressive after running between timelines,” Barry reluctantly admitted. “But it was big at the time. I hadn’t ever done anything close to that before. I rewound time a little bit, just a little, a few times, even once during the whole thing with reviving Clark, but that was nothing compared to what I did at Pozharnov. I went back far enough to stop the Unity from forming.”

“The day was saved,” Kara murmured.

“Yep,” Barry agreed. “The day was saved. And that was when the Justice League started. I got to know Clark in the years after that – we raced a couple times, went to fundraisers, did photo-ops, the whole nine yards.”

“Nine yards?”

“It’s an expression about doing a lot,” Barry explained. “It comes from… actually, I don’t know where it comes from, but that’s what it means. Clark and I hung out a decent bit, but being superheroes and all, there weren’t that many opportunities to just get to know each other without some crisis.”

“How did you end up in my past world?”

It was Barry’s turn to finally fall into silence.

“My mom,” he finally said, “was murdered when I was a kid. My dad went to prison for it even though he didn’t do it. I just… I wanted to go back in time and stop it from happening. Pozharnov opened the door and made me realize what I could do if I wanted to, but when I did that, the entire timeline changed, and I got put into your world. You know what happened after that, with Siberia and Zod.”

“Yes, that I remember. But I do not remember how this happened – how I ended up here. I remember… fighting Zod in the desert. Barry—the other one, I think—was trying to help, but Zod had beaten us both, and I remember thinking that I was about to die. Then, nothing.”

“I don’t know either,” Barry confessed. “There were a lot of things that happened, but how exactly I ended up here is something that I don’t remember either.”

Kara looked up at Barry, her head still resting on his shoulder. “What happened between what you do remember and what you do not?”

Barry felt his heart turn into a lead block. That was a sequence of events he wasn’t eager to relive in any form. “I, I fought the younger Barry. He had gone mad trying to save you and Bruce, you see. Just going back and forth so many times, trying so many different ways. I was so sure that it couldn’t be done. He was ripping the timeline apart and the fabric of the entire multiverse was being affected, so I ran back in time to… to end it all. That meant that I had to undo what I did.”

Kara still looked up at him, sympathy evident on her face as she understood the implications.

“The younger Barry, he couldn’t accept that. We fought in the Speed Force. I manipulated things so that we ended up back at the right time in the past, and he ended up killing his mom by accident. I,” he breathed out shakily, “watched her die. Again.”

He felt Kara’s arms slip around his torso, her body slipping behind his slightly so that her chin now rested on his shoulder. Almost instinctively, one of his hands searched and found hers, clasping over it.

“I wish I didn’t remember it,” Barry revealed. “I wish I didn’t have to live with that memory, that sight. I mean, what kid would want to remember that, seeing their mom die twice? And I—I even caused it the second time. I might as well have been the one to thrust that blade into her.”

“Barry,” Kara whispered into his ear, tightening her embrace slightly. Her body was warm in the cool night air; a desirable contrast.

“I’m sorry, Kara,” Barry apologized, his voice cracking slightly. “It’s my fault. All of it. I shouldn’t have tried to save my mom. I shouldn’t have given up on you and Bruce. I shouldn’t have dragged you here, even if I don’t remember how.” His head fell, dangling downward. “I wish I didn’t remember any of it. Knowing everything that I do, from all these different worlds, is just a curse.” His hands planted themselves on the sides of his head, just above his ears, in despair.

“Maybe,” Kara ceded. “It is a weight to carry. A burden to know. But it also defines who we are, for what are we if we do not remember where we came from? Knowing what you did caused you to try and save a doomed world by yourself and now, you have helped save this one. Barry, your knowledge is part of why you are a hero.”

He was silent.

“If you did not come to my world,” Kara continued, “then we would have been worse off. I would still have been in captivity. You freed me. Not that world’s Barry Allen. Not that world’s Bruce Wayne. You. An outsider from another world who had no stake in its future, but still came to help those in need.”

Barry lifted his head slightly, looking out at the darkness above the water.

“And even if things did not end well afterward,” Kara continued, “you gave me freedom for the first time in my life since I had arrived on Earth. That is more than I would have had if you never came. I would have never known anything other than that prison they had left me in.” She paused. “Thank you, Barry. Without you, I would not be here, with you, tonight. I think that you have given me the gift of life with what you have done.”

Barry wasn’t sure how to respond to that as she slipped back into her original place beside him, taking his left arm in her right and letting her head rest on his shoulder. Her words made sense, logically, but his motivations weren’t nearly that pure. He had done everything out of selfishness, out of greed and arrogance. Out of a mistaken belief that he could change the past to suit him, and even that he could restore a timeline he had lost sight of. Yet, the result was the same – Kara lived, at least in a way, where she had not before. And if he hadn’t come along, then she would’ve died nonetheless, without any hope or possibility of what had actually happened.

So, he stayed silent and contemplated.

With the sun fully set, the chill of the night air had only become more apparent even through Barry’s suit, and he began to shiver ever so slightly. With a flourish, he felt Kara wrap her cape around him – she seemed unconcerned with the colder temperature of the night. She retook her position, laying her head back down on his shoulder as they sat with each other in the darkness.

The silence stretched on, punctuated only by the sounds of the lake and the fainter, distant sounds of civilization on the shores. Kara’s breathing was regular and rhythmic as she finally fell asleep. Barry could feel his own exhaustion begin to truly set in, and he let his eyelids fall and his waking thoughts cease. They stayed there for the rest of the night, Kara resting her head on Barry’s shoulder, under the faint glimmer of stars nearly obscured and the glow of pale moonlight.

“Tell me, kid. You ever dance with the devil by the pale moonlight?”

“Congratulations, Mister Wayne. It’s a beautiful boy!”

“Now you wanna get nuts? Come on! Let’s get nuts.”

“Bruce, don’t go too far! Stay within sight of your mother!”

“A kiss under the mistletoe. You know, mistletoe can be deadly if you eat it.”

“We all fall sometime, Bruce. What matters is rising back up afterwards.”

“That pain… made me who I am. Not sure I know who I am without it, actually.”

“Martha, it’s okay. Just give it to him. Bruce, Bruce – come here. Don’t worry, it’s going to be okay.”

He opened his eyes, a struggle in and of itself. They were so heavy, his eyelids, as if they were like little lead plates that were just too much for his deteriorated muscles to move. But he persevered nonetheless, and almost immediately regretted it. The room was dark, but the few lights that blinked on nearby consoles were piercing in their intensity.

Never in his life had he ever felt so weak. His muscles didn’t respond. His body couldn’t move despite being wrapped only in a thin sheet. It was as if he had been wrapped and mummified, or a terrible case of sleep paralysis. Even so, he persevered. That was who he was – who he had been made into.

Because he was Batman. Except he wasn’t.

His head split in the worst headache he had ever experienced in two lifetimes worth of memories, and he would’ve screamed if his mouth could actually emit any sound louder than a gurgle. Even in his later years, he hadn’t felt nearly this infirm. Hell, he had been more than strong enough to take on soldiers in their prime of their lives. Or, at least, they had been in the prime of their lives before they’d met him.

Another shockwave of agony ripped through his mind. It wasn’t only conflicting memories; it was conflicting identities, dueling for supremacy. The father and the son, locked in direct contradiction. He could not be both at the same time, and yet he was. It was too much for one mind to deal with. Had he gone to medical school in his twenties, or had he trained with the world’s finest martial artists?

The pain became too much to bear. His atrophied muscles, barely able to keep his body intact, finally began to shake in motion, and he used that to will his frame to move. It took what seemed like an eternity to shift to the edge of the bed. Finally, he tumbled out of the bed, inadvertently ripping wires out of electrodes in his fall and causing the EKG machine to his bed’s side to flatline.

“Quick!” a voice suddenly came from outside the room. He couldn’t quite see anything, though there was a shuffling outside.

“Mister Wayne?” someone—a nurse, maybe—called out as the door to the room opened. “Mister—holy! Doctor Thompkins, he’s awake!”

Thomas Wayne groaned—more of a breathy whimpering sound than an actual groan—in pain. The coma seemed better to him than being awake.

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

They had spent a whole day with government agents, being questioned about the events and helping manage the beginning of the extensive clean-up operations that would take months, if not years, to Metropolis to its former glory. There wasn’t even the excuse of leaving to stop the last remaining and intact world engine in the Indian Ocean because the government agents in question had been so kind as to note that it had already shut down in the aftermath of the mothership’s destruction. That left them at the mercy of the questioning.

If he hadn’t been so used to the spotlight, Bruce would have lost his mind then and there. But one did not manage a major multinational conglomerate without having a good amount of tact, and he powered through with that learned experience, despite donning the persona of Batman instead that of Bruce Wayne.

When they had finished up for the day with a promise to return the next for an event, Clark had flown Bruce back to the Manor – a rather ignoble mode of transport, if he had to say so, but one that was necessitated by the Batwing being little more than scrap metal in one of the many piles of debris and wreckage that now constituted downtown Metropolis. Instead of climbing into his far-too-expensive bed and curling up with Selina—if she was there—for what little of the night, he had stripped off the experimental armor he had been clad in for the better part of a day, taken a quick and cold shower to refresh himself, and returned to the Batcave’s computer with a freshly brewed cup of coffee courtesy of Alfred.

As was often the case, Bruce Wayne couldn’t rest because Batman had work to do.

The armor had been the first order of business. It was initially designed with metahumans in mind, after the realization that his normal Kevlar-and-titanium combination that comprised his regular suit, itself already much more robust than the older fabric-based outfits he had worn in his early years, was far from sufficient in a world where superpowered aliens could fly faster than jets and Greek goddesses were more literal than mythological.

But in the aftermath of Metropolis, he couldn’t deny that his armor felt distinctly inadequate in the face of the Kryptonian invasion. He hadn’t even fought against one hand-to-hand—which likely would’ve left him dead—but the sheer power and destructive force that was evident in Clark’s battle with Zod left him shaken. He wasn’t ready for this – this new world that he found himself in, far beyond the bounds of Gotham’s repertoire of insane criminals. Even his new allies—Barry Allen, Hal Jordan, Arthur Curry, Diana Prince, and Kara Zor-El—were all, frankly, freaks of nature in their strengths, each excelling in some unimaginable way to become gods amongst men. And Batman was, at the end of the day, just a man.

He felt entirely deficient in comparison. For all of the technical prowess at his hands, for all of the strategies and planning he could come up with, it wasn’t enough to stop someone like Flash from running right through him, or for someone like Aquaman from flooding a city. His only defense against those distinct eventualities—no, those mere, unlikely-at-best possibilities—was his good faith belief in their characters, in their natures and personalities and heroism that they would not strike against those they had risen up to defend.

Another man may have been content with that bonafide belief. Batman—try as he might—could not be. One day, someday soon, he would have to contemplate the logical conclusions of those thoughts, but for now, he shelved them.

The armor was one thing. The other was Zod himself. The Kryptonian general had simply flown away in escape after their climactic battle, and while Batman had been more than a little frustrated with the lack of initiative on the parts of the Kryptonian cousins, Lantern, or Wonder Woman, Bruce reluctantly admitted that chasing after Zod in their conditions was a dubious proposition. Zod had been a major threat that Superman couldn’t handle alone, and Batman wasn’t willing to bet on whether Zod losing an arm would flip the odds in Superman’s favor.

But whatever the reasons were, the fact of the matter remained: Zod was out there, he had already proven himself a threat to the safety of Earth and its inhabitants, and they needed to prepare. Scouring into some of the older files he had, Batman began to pull up old plans, old schematics that he had once made years prior, when the world was even more uncertain, and he didn’t know who he could trust. Before he even knew Superman on a personal level, and it just seemed like the sky was falling after he’d finally gotten the worst elements of Gotham under some semblance of control.

There needed to be preparations for Zod – and for the inevitable threats to follow. It felt like the dawn of a new era, one in which Earth was no longer an isolated island in a larger universe. Superman had been an example of extraterrestrial life, but Zod’s invasion had put the matter in a completely new light. Not only were there aliens out there, but not all of them were going to be like Clark. When the next invader or conqueror came, Earth had to be ready. Which meant that Batman had to be ready. He quickly saved the relevant files on a removable drive, pocketing it in a pouch on his belt.

Finally, he navigated to a new folder, and the display rested on images of the Clark, himself, Barry, Hal, Diana, Arthur, and Kara. He examined their portraits, mentally connecting those static images with the people as he knew them in real life. It had been a project sometime in the making, one that he and Clark had worked on and then Barry had expedited his arrival and knowledge. The mechanics of it all were still a mystery to him, but at the end of the day, what mattered was that what had once been a mere dream on paper was now a reality. These individuals—extraordinary in their own rights—were now known to each other, and more than that, they had fought alongside each other against an immense threat. It was a mighty assembly of the world’s finest.

Clark was the most known quantity in the group. They had known each other for years already and worked with each other on occasion for just about as long. A strong trust had been built between them, one that he didn’t take lightly.

Barry was a newcomer and still an unknown variable in a larger equation. The idea of running across universes or dimensions was frankly mind-boggling, but everything he had said thus far had largely been proven correct. And the younger man had opened up to him in a way that was almost uncomfortable to handle. He would need to examine him longer, but something in his gut said that Barry was trustworthy.

Hal was a cocky flyboy that was in desperate need of therapy to unpack his childhood trauma. Batman snorted out loud to himself. He supposed it was a bit rich for him to say that about someone else. But Hal was, at his heart, a dependable man who did what he needed to when he needed to. That was an element of reliability that was desperately needed in any group. He made a mental note to pay for a half-year’s sessions in advance for the Green Lantern.

Diana was another mystery, shrouded in mystique with a classical poise and grace, like a finely sculpted marble statue made living. He had followed her at a number of events ranging from London to Vienna, but she had narrowly dodged him every time at every turn, never sending more than a sly wink or a mischievous grin in his direction as she slipped away to his frustration. The chase was thrilling though, he had to admit; it reminded him greatly of his first few years with Selina, when their relationship was characterized by late-night pursuits over rooftops and occasionally punctuated by intense moments of passion.

Arthur was a rambunctious man who held little regard for decorum unless he was forced to. He had been difficult enough to track down, but once he had, they had spent a night drinking—Arthur an uncountable number of beers, Bruce a good amount of iced tea—until he had become quite amiable. Already, he could sense that Arthur was going to be one of those individuals in a group that would glue the members together – assuming, of course, that his wife Mera didn’t hold him underwater at Atlantis most of the time.

Kara was by far the most volatile of the people before him. She was already a turncoat from Zod’s side, which made her inherently untrustworthy to some degree in his estimation. People that betrayed once were more likely to do it again. But Clark and Barry both seemed to strongly vouch for her, and the latter had become infatuated quite rapidly. For all of his strengths, Barry had a terrible poker face and looked like a teenager in puppy love whenever Kara was even in the same room. Perhaps that was a relationship that could be exploited to maintain her loyalty if she reciprocated. Certainly, he felt that was a distinct possibility when they had flown off together away from Metropolis, and it was at least part of why he wanted to let them go off alone and away from the rest of the group. At the very least, he’d monitor her closely going forward, if only out of justified caution.

Whatever the case was, those six individuals and himself now constituted a team. For better or for worse, their destinies were now intertwined – if he could ever bring himself to believe in such a thing. Though the idea that there were ‘timelines’ at all and Barry’s entire narrative at least brought that question to the forefront of his mind. Either way, the joining of these individuals and then their subsequent global battle against Zod’s forces had irrevocably changed everything. The world itself was different now.

He also mentally flicked through a number of other problems. There was regular, public Wayne Enterprises business to think about, and then there was also the regular, Batman-related Wayne Enterprises—specifically Wayne Tech—business to consider. The destruction wrought upon Metropolis was going to be a whole can of worms that would take a while to unpack, so he made a note to organize Wayne Enterprises-sponsored fundraisers and investment for the city. He could at least preempt Luthor on that front.

“Hey there,” a sultry and familiar voice whispered into his ear, followed by a pair of smooth bare arms. He turned slightly to see Selina looking at him, her head mere inches away from his. She captured his lips in a kiss, which he gladly reciprocated.

“Hey, yourself,” he replied, his voice slightly scratchy from disuse. He looked at his cup – empty. He’d need to find Alfred for a refill. “Can’t sleep?”

Selina raised an eyebrow. “More like ‘woke up.’ Bruce, it’s six-thirty in the morning.”

He blinked, looking at the clock at the corner of his computer’s display. Indeed, it was now the early morning, with the Sun soon about to rise. He rubbed his eyes, now urgently requiring that new cup of coffee.

“Here,” Selina said, taking a mug from where she had placed it to the side of the long desk earlier – a move that she had made without Bruce even noticing. “I think you need it more than me.”

“Thanks,” he replied, taking a sip of the hot drink. “You’re amazing.”

“Don’t you forget it,” Selina said, sneaking another kiss on his left cheek. She looked at the monitor. “Is this your super-secret fight club?”

“A team,” he corrected, nursing the cup of coffee.

“Hm,” she hummed, examining the portraits. “Oh, she’s cute,” she cooed, pointing at Kara’s image. “She’s a Superman fan?”

“Cousin,” he responded. “It’s a whole story.”

“You’ll have to tell me sometime.” She nuzzled his neck slightly before resting her chin on his left shoulder. “And who’s the broad?”

Her tone was neutral, but Bruce was smarter than that, and he knew Selina far too well to fall into any kind of trap. She would never admit it, but despite her own beauty and her self-confidence, there had always been a minor streak of jealousy in her when it came to other women in Bruce’s presence. Perhaps that had been a result of her childhood; he didn’t know, and he didn’t care to overly psychoanalyze such a small thing anyway.

“Diana Prince,” he explained. “Wonder Woman.”

“Never heard.”

“I wouldn’t have expected you to. She didn’t go by that moniker until yesterday.”

“I see,” Selina replied in a measured voice. “She’s pretty.”

“She is,” he agreed. “But she’s also an immortal Amazon from the mythical island of Themyscira.”

Selina turned to him. “… That’s a new one.”

“A first for everything,” he muttered in reply. “Weeks of trying to track her across Europe, and she shows up exactly when we needed her.” He shook his head. “Sometimes, I don’t even know why I try.”

Selina massaged his shoulders. “You gonna introduce me to your super-friends someday? I can tell them all of the embarrassing stories.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Bruce laughed, some of the tension that had built up for weeks finally relieved.

“Well, what I can say?” She leaned in close, her breath hot on his lips. “I’m a cat burglar by trade.”

Closing the gap between them was his response.

Clark groaned as his otherwise peaceful sleep was disturbed by the subtle but eminently audible high-frequency, low-amplitude intermittent chirp from the communicator that Bruce had provided him. Rolling out of bed and taking care not to disturb the still-slumbering Lois beside him, he picked the communicator up and read the message through still-bleary eyes.

He sighed, standing up fully and striding over to the small closet where some of his and Lois’ clothes had been haphazardly stored. Lois had hurriedly packed the necessities after he had rescued Kara from Zod in Bialya, and he had quickly flown them over to his parents’ farm rather than remaining in Metropolis after Bruce had warned of Zod’s potential attack trajectories to both him and the military for evacuations. As it turned out, it was a good call that saved a lot of lives, which was a regular day in the life of Batman.

Slipping quickly into the Kryptonian skinsuit that had become his definitive outfit on Earth, Superman climbed out of the second-floor window onto the roof of the homestead’s porch, taking off into the sky in a relatively slow and silent ascent. He rapidly increased his speed as he rose into the air and further from the ground, passing through the thin layers of the atmosphere and curving back downward to the Earth toward his destination. In his descent, he made sure to slow down enough to not cause a huge shock on landing as he approached the edge of Delaware, dropping into that relatively tiny skylight that had become Batman’s warehouse’s de facto entryway for any of the heroes that could fly.

Bruce was the only person there, his cowl off as he sat at the computer console that seemed to be growing larger and more complex every time Clark visited the warehouse. Clearly hearing Clark’s arrival, Bruce slipped his cowl on and turned to him. Batman was dressed back in his usual garb, armor plating and heavy fabrics rather than a pure mechanical suit. His jaw had a little stubble, giving him a slightly more frayed appearance than normal.

“Did you get any sleep, Bruce?” Clark asked, a little concern rising. Even behind the mask, he could tell that Bruce’s eyes were bloodshot, and his posture was ever so slightly less rigid than it normally was.

“I’ll sleep after this is finished,” Batman replied, his voice its usual gruff quality. “I had and have work to do.”

“Uh-huh,” Clark intoned, wholly unconvinced. “You’re running yourself ragged, and yesterday was more than anyone could handle. You need rest, Bruce.”

Batman didn’t respond, swiveling his chair back around to his computer. “Why didn’t you follow Zod?”

“What?”

“Zod,” Batman repeated. “Why didn’t you follow him? We let him go and now he’s out there, a potential threat lurking in the shadows.”

Clark felt a little anger rising in him; how could Batman judge him? But he quashed it. Batman’s question was, on its face, a completely fair and valid one. And the answer he had wasn’t one he liked, but it was the truth.

“I was scared,” Clark admitted. Batman didn’t react. “I was—I am scared of Zod. Scared of what he can do. Scared of what he might do. But I didn’t want to because I wasn’t sure if I could beat him if I tried, and I didn’t want Kara to try either after what Zod had already done to her. That’s it. If that makes me a coward, then I guess that’s what I am.”

“It makes you human,” Batman stated.

“Well, that’d be news to me,” Clark replied, a small smile forming on his lips. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

“No one can be perfect,” Batman continued. “Not even you. I don’t think anyone will blame you. I certainly don’t. I just needed to know.”

“But because of that,” Clark sighed, “now we’ll have to deal with Zod in the future. I don’t doubt that he’ll come back one day.”

“And we’ll be ready,” Batman said, typing a command on his keyboard that brought up a number of windows. Clark leaned in to see. “This is what I have in mind.”

Clark whistled. “That’s… gonna cost a lot.”

Batman turned his head slightly. “And what do you think my superpower is?”

“Fair enough.” He backed away from the console. “But even still, it’d take a while to construct, if it’s even possible.”

“It’s possible,” Batman confirmed. “And I think Wayne Tech can do it in less than a year. Maybe six months.”

“Without exposing your identity? I mean, it’d be at least a little suspicious if Bruce Wayne was suddenly splashing billions on unaccountable projects.”

Clark could almost see the smirk on Bruce’s face despite the man still facing away from him. “I have my ways,” the Dark Knight replied. “You let me worry about that.”

“And the announcement?”

“You’ll give the speech.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re Superman. The country has just suffered one of the worst attacks on American soil in its history, and you’re the one who led the charge to stop it. I can’t think of anyone better to give a speech and reassure the country and the planet that the world isn’t ending.”

“Well, if that was the criteria, we could get you or Barry to do it instead.”

Batman didn’t respond.

Clark sighed, somewhat exasperated. “Alright, fine, you got me. I’ll message Lois and get her to help me write a speech.”

“No need – I’ve got one ready. You can edit it as you see fit.”

“Has anyone told you that you work too much?”

“Selina’s been known to complain about it.”

Clark was about to respond when he heard the tell-tale sound of a fluttering cape, and he looked up to see Kara, holding onto Barry in one arm, float gently to the ground. When their feet finally touched the floor, she let go, though Clark noticed that he didn’t step away from her and neither did she from him. Her skinsuit was still as frayed and torn as it was the day before, and Barry had his cowl hanging behind his head.

The implications of their joint arrival and their close proximity were something to be discussed eventually, but Clark deferred it for now.

“Are we early?” Barry asked. “We came as soon as we could.”

“You’re actually probably somewhat early,” Clark admitted, crossing his arms. “Kara, your skinsuit is worse for wear. We can get that patched up in a little bit back at the Fortress. I’m also curious where you two have been. You skipped out on all the pleasantries yesterday with the authorities, and I’m sure they’d have loved to question the two of you as well.”

Barry turned away, seemingly curious in the spare wooden boxes stacked alongside the wall suddenly, while Kara just coughed into a balled-up fist.

“We…” Kara began, “we have something important to tell you, Clark.”

Clark blinked and chuckled lightly at the setup of the situation. “You know, on Earth, when a boy and girl say that together, that usually implies—”

“No!” Barry quickly interjected, waving his hands frantically. “No. That’s not it.” Kara turned to Barry with a quizzical look, and the speedster replied with a simple and quick nod.

“What is it, then?” Clark asked, trying to maintain an air of authority. He was, after all, the older cousin now by virtue of Kara’s stasis, and he felt responsibility over his now-younger cousin who was still new to Earth. And if he was going to be the spokesperson for this group, he figured that he’d better start acting the part too.

“Batman might want to hear this as well,” Barry added. “He already knows some of it.”

“Does this have anything to do with what you promised me that day?”

“Yes,” Barry replied firmly.

Batman stood beside him, arms also crossed as they faced the two younger superheroes.

“Alright,” Clark finally said. “Let’s hear it then.”

Barry and Kara turned to each other, evidently trying to figure out who was going to start. Kara turned back to him. “We’re from a different timeline.”

Clark exhaled. Of all the possibilities he had considered, that was not one of them. “What?”

“More specifically,” Barry explained, “we have memories of a different timeline. Whether we’re actually, like physically, from a different timeline and universe is probably still up for debate.”

Clark shook his head. “Okay, I feel like I’m missing something here, because you guys are talking about something that’s, frankly, really crazy.”

“Barry is telling the truth, Clark,” Kara quietly asserted. "We have the memories of a Barry and Kara from another world, one in which we did not win against Zod.”

“I actually have more memories than that,” Barry spoke up. “The world that Kara was from was world number two for me.”

“Did you know about this?” Clark questioned, turning to Bruce. The billionaire seemed quite unperturbed by the revelation.

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The Dark Knight looked at him. “It was their secret to give, not mine.”

Fair enough, Clark supposed. Turning back to Barry and Kara, he narrowed his eyes slightly. “Start from the top.”

And so, they did. Barry started first, regaling him with a story of another world where he—or some version of him—had defeated Zod alone, becoming both beloved and demonized by the world as a result. Apparently, he and Batman had a brutal fight, which he lost somehow because of some rock called kryptonite. But then they had made up, and then he diedto a Kryptonian monster, and then he got revived because there was a bigger threat from an alien invasion. It was enough to make Clark’s head spin. After that, things seemed to calm down more, until Barry had decided to run back in time to stop his mother from dying.

That was where Kara stepped in, taking up the mantle of telling their story, weaving a web of tragedy. Unlike the world that Barry had come from, theirs was one where superheroes were nearly non-existent outside of an old Batman who had retired. The Barry of that world—which, at that point, Clark had been led to believe was identical in appearance to the original Barry, but that the Barry in front of him looked nothing like them—had no powers, at least not until the original Barry had dragged the second Barry to the site of where Barry had gotten his powers, but that had led to Barry losing his powers this time.

There were too many Barry Allens in this story, Clark decided, for it to be a fake. He couldn’t believe that anyone would ever create a fictional tale with that level of convolution. It was so unbelievable that it became believable.

What boiled Clark’s blood was Kara’s description of her captivity. Captivity. Someone, some group of punks, had dared to hold his cousin in captivity. If he could, he would’ve burst through realities to face them head on. But he couldn’t, so he stood there and listened to her describe how she landed on Earth when she was young, but instead of how he landed into the caring arms of a Kansan couple, she had landed in Siberia. There, she had been tortured and experimented on while kept underground, far from the nourishing Sun.

He controlled his anger. It was futile to rage now.

But the turning point in the story was when the two Barry Allens had enlisted the help of the old Batman to rescue her. They had brought Kara to the surface, where she had finally regained some semblance of her powers and saved them. It brought Clark at least a little satisfaction hearing that her captors had gotten their just desserts. At that point, Zod had already begun his invasion of Earth, so after a risky experiment that had restored the original Barry’s powers, they had suited up to face him as a team.

And then they lost.

That was what shocked Clark the most, perhaps.

Barry retook the metaphorical conch back from Kara and finished the tale. The speedster had run back into the stream of time—a chronobowl, or something along those lines—and battled the younger version of Barry before running through the ‘Speed Force’ and ending up where he was.

“That’s… quite the story,” Clark admitted.

“Wait, you don’t believe us?”

“No, that’s not what I said. Just that I might need some time to think about it.”

Kara approached him, taking his right hand in both of hers. “Clark, it is the truth. Of that, I promise you.”

He clasped his left hand on top of hers. “I—I do believe you, Kara.” He looked up. “And you too, Barry. It’s just that – well, look at it from my perspective. It doesn’t—”

He stopped. He remembered words from the day before, spoken in the heat of battle. Words that made no sense to him at the time, but suddenly fit into the puzzle perfectly.

“Clark?” Kara asked, visible concern rising on her face. “Are you okay?”

He blinked. “Yeah. It’s just… I remember something Zod said. He said that he remembered memories from another life, and in that other life he had also invaded this world.” He looked back down at Kara, whose eyes were widening. “You don’t think…”

“Barry,” Kara said, turning quickly to face the other man. Barry shared a similar look of shock.

“I don’t—I don’t remember how it happened,” Barry whispered. “Maybe more people crossed over than we thought? But how?”

Clark turned to Bruce, who was just as stoic as ever. “Any thoughts, Bruce?”

“Frankly, none,” he responded. “Multiverse theory is far beyond my areas of expertise. But if I had to guess, then I’d say that it at least makes sense. Barry and Kara have already crossed over, so who’s to say that no one else hasn’t as well?”

That left them all in silence. Kara returned to Barry’s side, where the two shared a look that Clark couldn’t quite figure out the meaning of. The silence was only ended by a chirping on Batman’s wrist, and the Dark Knight turned his wrist to check the small computer that was mounted on the inner side. Even through his mask, Clark could tell Bruce’s eyes had widened at whatever the message’s contents were.

Batman looked up. “The rest of the League is coming,” he said. “Something has come up. I’ll rendezvous with all of you at the announcement.” With that, Batman pulled out his grapple gun and shot out of the skylight, leaving the two Kryptonians and one speedster alone.

“Wait,” Barry finally said after a few seconds, “what announcement?”

It was a somber affair overall, given that they were standing on a raised platform in front of an audience of the press in the middle of ground zero for Zod’s attack – the flattened crater that had once been an economic center of not just the nation, but the world. The mayor of Metropolis, a rather portly man, was speaking, though Barry wasn’t really paying attention and only heard every other word. He was the second from the right side of the platform facing the media, with only Hal to his right. To his left was Kara, who seemed like she was a fish out of water despite her newly fixed outfit in front of the multitude of flashing lights and the audience gathered. To her left, in the center of the stage, was Superman, and then Batman—who had somehow reappeared just as the event had begun—Wonder Woman, and Aquaman to round out the rest of the League.

“I’d like to thank the swift support,” the mayor said, “of some of the nation’s finest businesses in coming to help during our city’s hour of need. In particular, we have already received significant amounts in tallied aid funds and investments from Wayne Enterprises, Queen Industries, and our very own homegrown LexCorp.” There was a round of polite applause. “And before I bore you all any longer with my voice,” there was a ripple of laughter through the crowd, “I’d like to introduce to you the greatest hero that has ever come from our great city: Superman.”

This time, the applause was more than polite, with most of the audience rising to their feet as Superman took the podium with a smile and a wave. Barry tried to keep the neutral expression plastered on his face, but seeing Superman there was infectious and even he felt like smiling.

“Thank you, Mayor Berkowitz,” Superman said, half-turned to the where the man was seated behind him. “And thank you all for coming out here today, to this place of solemn grief. I’d like to begin by taking a moment of silence, not just for the people who died here, but for those that were affected all across the globe as a result of Zod’s attacks.”

Superman bowed his head, and Barry followed suit for a few moments.

“But,” Superman continued after the moment had passed, “I would also like to express my hope that one day, this place will be more than just grief in our hearts. I firmly believe in truth, justice, and the American way, and I will always fight for a better and brighter tomorrow. With our partners in the corporate world and our support from every level of society, I believe that we can rebuild and renew what we see before us into something that not just looks great from the outside, but also benefits every member of our society as we move into the future. We have always been a people that has strived to those in need, even if we falter sometimes. With the help of our neighbors, our compatriots, and our friends from around the world, I look forward to that bright tomorrow when Metropolis comes back stronger and better than ever.”

Another round of polite applause.

“As a Kryptonian like Zod, I can’t help but feel a little responsible for what has happened,” Superman admitted. “Those powers that I have been blessed with can be used for great good, but as we have seen, they can also be twisted into terrible evil. Zod’s attack was quick and brutal, and it shattered families and communities. My heart goes out to those that we—myself and those I fought with,” he gestured behind him to Barry and those beside him, “could not defend in time. I wish we could’ve saved those that were lost to the relentless and evil actions that Zod brought upon this world. But the devastation has revealed the limits of any single hero. None of us could stand against the forces arrayed against Earth alone. That was and is the truth. It didn’t matter how strong we were, how fast we were, how brave we were. But together…” he paused for dramatic effect, “together we stood united. Together we fought, and together we won against Zod.”

Barry could tell that the journalists and reporters in the seats below were curious where the Man of Steel was heading.

“Yesterday, the need for a more robust response, a group of remarkable individuals dedicated to using their gifts for good, was shown. A group that would stand at the watch and counter the evils that try to threaten the people of this planet.”

A low murmur rose over the assembled crowd.

“Today, I am proud and honored to say that this group has been brought together for that very purpose.” Superman stepped back slightly to fall back in line with the other heroes. “We present ourselves to the world as a united team – the Justice League. A force dedicated to doing good and to fighting against evil wherever we can.”

The cacophony of questions became a loud roar, and Superman stepped back to the podium. Barry didn’t envy him in the slightest, though Superman looked every bit the part and not a step out of place in the fray.

“We will not be an unaccountable private force,” he said, somehow rising above the sound of the crowd. “We will not intrude into the realms of politics, or to stray into conflicts that we do not need to. We are the foremost line of defense for the world against future threats that threaten innocent, good people anywhere. Our concern is justice – bringing fairness and morality to those that would do evil. We will stand for that ideal no matter the cost.”

Superman paused, letting the waves of commotion from the assembled press wash over him for a moment. “Thank you. We will be sending out a press release shortly with some further details. I hope that with the support of the public, we can prevent anything like this from happening again.” He waved at the crowd as he stepped back and the mayor returned to the podium, but the reporters didn’t quiet down.

Barry finally exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The deed had been done, and the League was finally not just a name, but a reality. Now, whatever threats faced them in the future, they would face them together as one team of heroes.

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

“I think we should stop seeing each other like this,” Iris firmly stated.

Barry, who had just gotten into the booth at the small diner she had chosen, widened his eyes. “Wait, what?” He leaned forward slightly, hands on the table. “When you say, ‘like this,’ do you mean—Iris, are you breaking up with me?”

Iris opened her mouth to respond, but a waitress stopped by, notepad and pencil in hand. “Y’all ready?” the waitress asked, already looking down at the notepad and ready to write.

“Just a minute,” Iris replied, plastering a smile on her face. “We’re still deciding.”

The waitress eyed each of them in turn but walked away without saying anything else.

“Barry,” Iris continued, sighing as she turned back to face him, “it’s not like that.” Her smile, which was a mere shadow of the real thing that Barry had seen many times before, turned into a genuine, if sorrowful, expression. “Okay, well, it kind of is. But how can I break up with you when it feels like you’ve already broken up with me?”

He blinked. “Iris, I—I haven’t broken up with you.” He paused, searching for words. “I thought we had something good going.”

“We did,” she admitted. “Since last semester. And you’ve been kind and caring. I can’t complain about that, even if you did cancel like half of the dates we set up.”

“Then—" Barry began, but she cut him off with a hand.

“But that’s not it,” Iris explained. “It isn’t enough to just be kind and caring, especially when it feels like your heart is somewhere else entirely. Barry, a relationship is supposed to be a two-way street, and I… I just feel like your side is more closed off than it was before.”

Barry looked down at the wood grain of the worn tabletop. Iris was silent as well, the tips of her red painted nails visible in Barry’s view.

“Who is she, Barry?” Iris suddenly asked.

“Who is who?”

Iris smiled in a sad sort of way. “The woman who isn’t me that you can’t get out of your head.”

Barry opened his mouth to protest, but Iris continued first. “I get it – it happens. I don’t like it, but that’s the truth. And I don’t think you’re a bad person for it, Barry. I know that you did like me when we first started dating, and maybe you still do. Heck, even right now, I know that I still like you, but there’s no way to make this work when there’s a third person in the whole thing that you can’t stop thinking about. That’s not something I’m comfortable with, and I don’t think there’s any point in trying to pursue a relationship with someone who isn’t going to reciprocate.”

Barry opened his mouth and then closed it again, realizing that not only had Iris already made up her mind, but that she was right. They had dated for half a year, but even from the beginning, he knew somewhere deep within him that it wasn’t going to work out. Not in the way that Iris wanted or that she deserved. Futilely struggling against that reality and his own heart would only fracture what they had left more than it needed to be, and Barry didn’t see any appeal in that.

“You’re right,” he whispered in response, swallowing. “I’m sorry, Iris. This—our relationship falling apart—it’s my fault. I didn’t want anything like this to happen.”

Iris took Barry’s left hand in her right one with a small smile. “It’s no one’s fault, Barry. These things happen. Hearts change and people change with them. There wasn’t any malice on your end – as long as you aren’t actually dating her right now.” She eyed Barry semi-critically in an over-the-top manner. “You aren’t, right?”

“Absolutely not,” Barry adamantly replied. “I would never do that.”

Iris nodded. “I thought as much. You’re really nice, Barry. Maybe a little too nice, if you wanted to avoid hurting my feelings before this by not telling me. But what’s important is that, while it really sucks and I’ll probably still be thinking about it while taking my finals, I’m okay and you’re okay. And ultimately, I’m okay with going back to the friendship that we had and that I hope we’ll continue to have before we started dating.”

He nodded euphorically. Iris had always been a continued to be a steady presence to be around and easy in her forgiveness. Said forgiveness already made him feel better. She had a way of sounding much older and wiser than her age would suggest sometimes.

“So, friends?” There was a hopeful tone in her voice.

“Friends,” he confirmed. That was the outcome of the conversation he himself had been hoping for, though one that he wasn’t sure was going to happen.

“What’s she like?” Iris asked, her voice already slipping into a teasing, slightly conspiratorial tone. “This girl that’s stolen your heart?”

Barry opened his mouth to answer, but the waitress returned, notepad at the ready, with a somewhat dour expression. “Now, are y’all ready?”

“Sure,” Iris replied, rolling her eyes before turning to the woman. “I’ll have the regular breakfast set, over-easy eggs.”

“Uh,” Barry looked at the menu quickly. “Same, but scrambled for me.”

“Sure thing, hun,” the waitress intoned. “I’ll have those out in a jiffy.”

As the waitress walked away, Iris turned back to Barry. “Alright, go – the girl.”

“Oh,” Barry said, “well, erm, she’s not from around here.”

“Ooh, foreign,” Iris cooed. “Where’s she from then?”

“Uh, K—I mean, uh, Colombia. Yeah – she’s from Colombia. She’s also a cousin of a friend, so she’s been staying with his family out of state.”

“Huh,” she frowned. “Do you go visit her often?”

“Well, it’s a long drive,” Barry started. “Like halfway across the country. But I’ve seen her a couple of times, like at a Christmas party that my friend’s parents hosted.”

In reality, the ‘long drive’ was a relatively easy run for Barry. It wasn’t the geographical distance, though, that had separated them for six months. On her end, she had wanted to better understand the humans that she was now going to live among, and what better way to ease into that than by staying with her adoptive aunt and uncle? She worked the farm with them, helping where she could, and as far as he knew, she had begun to make herself a regular fixture in Smallville’s tight-knit community. He didn’t want to interfere with that—with the life and the home that she had finally begun to build for herself—by showing up too often. So, despite his ability to, he’d only seen her perhaps a half-dozen times in as many months, and never alone and out of the blue.

On his end, he’d wanted to give a chance for, well, whatever it was that had sparked between them that night to fade. It didn’t, though. Instead, it had steadily grown in intensity, weighing on his mind even when he was with Iris. Which led him to his current situation.

“Sounds like quite the gal,” Iris nodded, “if she’s got you thinking about her from half a continent away. Is she in school, or maybe working?”

“She helps out around the homestead,” Barry responded. He was briefly interrupted by the waitress carrying over and placing, not so gently, two messy but voluminous oval plates onto the table, each filled with toast, beans, sausage, bacon, and eggs.  “Thanks.” He turned back to Iris. “My friend’s parents, they live on a farm. I’m told that it’s just about planting season right now, so that’s probably what she’s doing these days.”

“I see,” Iris said, immediately beginning to dig in by slathering the eggs on the toast and chomping down. “And your friend, is this someone I know?”

“No, he lives over in Metropolis now.” He dug into the bacon first, himself, savoring the salty and fatty taste. His caloric consumption would’ve made a dietitian faint in horror. “He’s also older than us, so he’s been out of school for a while and working.” Barry frowned slightly. “Actually, I’m not sure if he ever went to college. I’ll have to ask him sometime.”

“Shame,” Iris replied, starting on the beans. “I was hoping that maybe there’d be a chance for me to meet her.” She looked up. “Not because of, like, an ex versus a future girlfriend or anything like that, but just out of curiosity.”

He chuckled. “Believe me, I never would’ve thought that of you.”

“You know,” she gestured with her fork, “I’m happy for you, Barry. I really am. I hope it works between you two. It’s just a little surprising to me that you’d be into a country girl, which is pretty much who you’ve described to me. Not that I have anything against country girls, but we’ve known each other since high school, and that hasn’t been what I’ve seen from your history of past dates.”

She was right, as far as his memories of this world went of his dating history – a history that was considerably more experienced than his own, considering the version of himself that he still considered, well, him had gone on a grand total of zero dates by age thirty. By comparison, this world’s Barry Allen might as well have been a Don Juan who had actually asked girls out on dates and gotten said dates, even if they generally didn’t go anywhere after that. “What can I say, she’s just—"

“Holy shit!” a man in another booth down the length of the diner yelled out loudly, drawing the attention of the entire restaurant and cutting Barry off mid-sentence. He turned to the waitress behind the counter bar. “Change the channel on that television to the news!”

The waitress flicked through the channels on the wall-mounted television until it landed on a news channel, then turned the volume up so that everyone could hear. Barry turned around to see what the commotion was about.

“…have just received confirmation,” the female newscaster was saying, “that Air Force Two, which had departed Martin Suarez International Airport in Metropolis earlier this morning, exploded shortly after takeoff. Officials are still unsure as to the cause of the disaster, and an investigation is already underway in the Metropolis—D.C. air corridor as wreckage from the aircraft is discovered by search teams. There were forty-six people onboard the aircraft, including Vice President Richard Lyle, Metropolis Mayor Franklin Berkowitz, and Berkowitz’s family.”

Barry tuned the rest out as he turned back to Iris, her face a mirror of the shock on his own. Hers, naturally, stemmed from the shocking surprise of the event, and Barry felt that as well. But his was rooted in the divergence from his own knowledge. It was yet another incident that he had no foreknowledge of, no precedent to build an approach from. As far as he remembered, no high-ranking politician had died in such an accident between Superman’s first appearance and first death. He wasn’t sure if all of the Batmen he had been rubbing shoulders with were finally rubbing off on him, but the idea of it being an assassination from a nefarious group with further ulterior motives seemed more like a distinct possibility rather than just paranoia to him.

“Holy moly,” Iris murmured. “That’s awful. And I can’t imagine what the political ramifications are going to be.” She was already beginning to move into her political analysis mode of thought. “The last time the Twenty-Fifth was used for the vice presidency was back in the Ford administration. D.C.’s going to a madhouse for the next few weeks.”

Barry mentally sighed. If a political firestorm was all that resulted from this, he’d consider them lucky.

The temperature, Bruce felt, was about as perfect as it could be for wearing a suit outdoors. One of the benefits of mid-April early afternoons in the Northeast.

That he had to wear a suit at all, though, instead of lounging with Selina in the Manor’s sunroom with a good book and better company, making his way through the incessant duties and paperwork that befell the chief executive officer of Wayne Enterprises that he would have to do anyway, or sifting through the backlog of work that his nocturnal duties called for, was far less enjoyable. Especially since he, along with hundreds of others, sat inside the newly constructed amphitheater that had been built courtesy of funds from LexCorp. And, naturally, that meant he had to endure the shiny, bald head of one Lex Luthor himself.

Luthor walked out onto the stage to great applause from the audience, dressed the part as always in a slate-gray, form-fitting three-piece suit. For a man in his mid-fifties, he looked just about as fit as ever, enough to pass for a man a decade and a half younger. From the front-row seat that Wayne Enterprises’ generous donations and investments to Metropolis’ rebuilding entitled him to, Bruce could also clearly tell that the suit, despite being a hand-tailored custom piece, was no match for the value of the vintage watch on Luthor’s left wrist. The watch was a family heirloom, perhaps, given that it was a little more worn in appearance than one would consider normal as part of such an ensemble. He clapped politely, though not boisterously like some of the people around him; his own prestige and reputation could easily afford him that, even in Luthor’s moment of relative triumph.

“Thank you for coming today,” Luthor called out, his voice amplified through speakers. “Thank you all. And I would like to thank the Fine Arts Museum of Metropolis for co-sponsoring today’s event, the Metropolis Ballet Company for providing today’s no-doubt brilliant performance, and to the great folks of Metropolis for persevering in these difficult times.”

Applause and cheers filled the open-air theater.

“Six months ago,” Luthor continued, “our city and the world suffered from a grievous attack. The heroism shown by the members of the Justice League—including our very own city’s Superman—mitigated the worst, but as we all know and have felt, the reconstruction process has not been easy. It has been a long and arduous road, but thanks to our friends such as Mister Wayne here,” he gestured to Bruce, who politely smiled as his neighbors turned to him with applause, “we have garnered the resources to restore this great city not just to its former heights, but beyond. And now I am pleased to announce that this building, the Metropolis Memorial Amphitheater, will stand as but the first in a long line of strong and new institutions that will showcase our city’s resilience to the world!”

That led to a standing ovation, which Bruce had to join in so as to not seem out of place. From his angle, with Luthor standing feet above on the platform, the business magnate looked awfully smug to Bruce – though that may have also just been Luthor’s normal resting expression.

“I want to address the elephant in the room,” Lex Luthor said, his smile slowly fading away as the audience reseated themselves. “I was devastated to hear the news earlier this week, just like everyone else here and around the nation. Vice President Lyle and Mayor Berkowitz were good friends of mine. On many occasions, I had worked with them to help propel both this city and this nation into greater prosperity. Their efforts were monumental, and I firmly believe that their legacies will reflect that in the years to come. That we are standing here today is a testament to how hard they worked for the people that they served.”

Luthor paused.

“Yes,” he finally said. “The rumors are true. I did receive a call from President Adams the day of the tragedy, and the call was an offer.” He raised a hand to quell the sudden murmurs that rushed toward him. “It took some time for me to think about it. The offer was not a light one, and I knew that it would be a wholly different world than what I had known in business. But it was my son, Alexander, who said to me that if I didn’t accept it, then what would I think of myself if I knew that I could do good—actual, real good for the American people—in that position and didn’t step up to the plate when I was needed?” He paused. “In the memory of my dearly departed friends and with the conviction to carry on their work and legacies, I am honored to announce that I have accepted the nomination of the vice presidency.”

Bruce felt his hands come together to clap almost automatically. The amphitheater—filled mostly with Luthor sycophants or people who had no dog in the fight to begin with—erupted loudly.

A Vice President Lex Luthor? The man was bad enough in the business world with his cutthroat corporate tactics, spotty environmental record, and exploitation of local peoples around the globe. But putting him in an official position a single step away from the presidency of the United States was a whole different ballgame, and not one that Bruce preferred to entertain even if the vice presidency had little inherent power. He knew Luthor had donated heavily to the president’s reelection campaign, but nomination was another level. The situation was already too coincidental to be comfortable in his mind, almost like it had been manufactured to give Luthor the opportunity to be a single stepping stone away from becoming the leader of the free world.

No, Bruce thought to himself, as he stood and clapped with everyone else and watched that wide smile on Luthor’s face, the man already overshadowing the day’s nominal event at the amphitheater with his announcement. This needed a proper investigation from the world’s greatest detective.

Barry skidded to a stop right outside the warehouse that had become the de facto headquarters of the Justice League – though Bruce had assured him that they were moving out sooner rather than later. Opening the small door to the side, he walked in to see Batman sitting at his console, which was more or less the most normal sight one could see in that space.

“Sorry I’m late, Batman,” Barry called out, walking over to him as he pulled off his cowl. “You wouldn’t believe it. There was some Australian nut with a boomerang of all things—”

“George Harkness,” Batman said, cutting Barry off. “He’s been committing crimes across the nation, starting on the West Coast and making his way east. It was only a matter of time before he’d reach Central City.”

“Wow,” Barry whistled. “I didn’t even know his name.” Batman didn’t reply. “So, what’s the problem? The message was a little vague.”

Batman swiveled around. “I assume you’ve heard about the vice president’s death.”

Barry nodded. “And the mayor of Metropolis, yeah. I saw it on the news last week. Horrible stuff.”

“I don’t think it was an accident.”

Barry shivered slightly. His fear returned. The past Lex Luthor’s machinations had led to more destruction in Metropolis, the death of Superman, and ultimately Steppenwolf’s invasion. Anything that any version of that man had cooked up couldn’t be good for anyone – perhaps not even Luthor himself, if his prison sentence at Belle Reve was any indication.

He was brought out of his thoughts by the tell-tale woosh of people flying through the skylight, and he turned to see both Clark and Kara standing there. Their skinsuits matched even closer than before, with virtually identical shades of colors. Clark’s was much the same as it was before, with the notable addition of a red belt with a small yellow-gold crest in the center that broke up the upper and lower halves of his blue suit. Kara’s had changed similarly, with an identical belt breaking up the blue color in addition to a new pair of red over-the-knee boots, topped by that same yellow-gold color trim, that were considerably taller than her cousin’s shorter pair. At least, he assumed they were boots; the Kryptonian fabric that their suits seemed to be made out of was form-fitting enough to where he wasn’t quite sure that they weren’t just part of the suits.

“H-hi,” Barry waved, tangentially wondering whether the two Kryptonians could hear his heartbeat. “Clark. Kara. Great to see you two. And you guys look great too. The belt’s a nice touch.”

Clark looked down. “Oh, yeah, my mom suggested it after she saw Kara’s suit on her for the first time. She thought there was too much blue going on. I think she was right. The red really helps give it a pop of color. She decided Kara also needed the boots because hers had even more blue going on than mine did.”

Kara shrugged. “My sense of fashion is still out of touch with human standards, but it was an acceptable change. I have only recently begun to agree that flannel is an allowable choice, and I see it everywhere in Smallville.”

Clark looked down at his shorter cousin, shaking his head. “Flannel is amazing, and you’ll agree with me sooner rather than later. You’ll see.”

Kara’s eyes looked up in a very exasperated human fashion that Barry hadn’t seen her do before, clearly from the continuation of a long-standing argument between the two. Finally, she turned to him, their eyes locking for a brief moment that seemed to stretch much longer than it really did before she looked away, over his shoulder to Batman.

“What, um, brings you both here?” Barry asked.

“I was with Kara with I got the alert,” Clark explained. “Decided that she should stretch her legs a bit, get out of Smallville.”

“Smallville is… nice,” Kara admitted, absentmindedly brushing a stray strand of hair that had fallen over her face backwards. Flash blinked slightly and refocused away from that. “But I have been there for nearly half a year, and it is not what I would consider a center of commerce.”

“There’s a reason it’s called Smallville,” Flash blurted out without thinking, before covering his mouth. Clark was a nice guy, but insulting his hometown wasn’t exactly on the top of Barry’s list of ‘smart things to do.’

Kara grinned at him – yet another expression that seemed almost alien on her in the context she was using it. “Exactly.”

“Alright,” Superman shook his head. “Enough flannel and Smallville slander for one day. Bruce, what’s the problem?”

“The suspicious deaths of Lyle and Berkowitz.”

Superman nodded. “I thought as much. The timing was too coincidental, and Luthor getting the nod for the vice presidency was the cherry on top.”

“Exactly,” Batman agreed. He tapped a command on his wrist computer, causing the screen behind him to flicker to a multitude of reports and schematics. “The C-32 in question was maintained properly as far as the reports go, and it had just undergone a full refurbishment and refit a year ago.”

“Who did the refit?” Superman asked.

“Guess,” Batman stated.

“LexCorp,” Superman replied with no hesitation.

“Right in one. LexCorp has handled virtually all of the civilian government contracts for aircraft maintenance in the past five years. No doubt they’ll have evidence and proof that their handling of the refit was within standards, but we all know what those reports are worth.”

“I do not understand,” Kara spoke up with a frown. “Human politics are still elusive to me in many ways, but why would this Luthor person want to kill his own leaders?”

“Luthor’s an ambitious man,” Superman explained. “He already reigns at the top of the business world—no offense, Bruce—and politics is the natural next step. He has money, so why not go for power next?”

“In a reductive sense, that is largely correct,” Batman affirmed. “Luthor’s political ambitions haven’t been overt, but they’ve been obvious for years. Even before Zod’s invasion, he was positioning himself as an electable moderate with popular, common-sense reform policies. I have no doubt that he’d like to end his career as an elder statesman.”

“Okay, so why kill the vice president, then?” Barry asked. “Why not just run for office. He’s already bankrolling all of these guys anyway, if I can believe the news, so it feels easy enough for him to just step into an election and win it.”

“The Adams administration is close to Luthor, but that doesn’t translate downstream,” Batman explained. “The parties’ apparatuses are not in his favor and will work together to lock him out of an electoral victory, and winning a seat as a representative or even a senator would be a downgrade for him even if does win. He needs something bigger than that for his jump into politics.”

“There is one thing I do not understand still,” Kara commented. “I do not understand why these political matters are any concern of the Justice League. I was under the belief that these were the sort of affairs that the League was supposed to stay out of.”

“A speech is just a speech,” Batman replied. “The League’s mission is irrevocably tied with politics. There are too many threats there to ignore.”

Kara frowned but made no further response.

“That might be all well and good,” Barry said, though he was still undecided on whether it actually was, “but I’m personally not sure what we’re supposed to do about it. Outside of you, I don’t think the rest of us are great detectives, and I think this kind of conspiracy is going to need more than late-night sleuthing.”

“Agreed. That’s why I’ve also brought Lois Lane onboard,” Batman said, and Lois stepped out from behind a pillar.

“How long have you been standing there?” Barry asked, his hands on his hips. He hadn’t even known that she was there. The Daily Planet journalist looked much the same, albeit with her hair now cropped shorter to shoulder length rather than the longer ponytail she had sported the last time Barry had seen her.

“Long enough,” she admitted. “But worth it for the dramatic entry. And it seems like you haven’t gotten any better at looking around when you get somewhere.”

“Ha-ha,” Flash dryly replied. “I’m not exactly expecting to be ambushed at the Justice League’s headquarters of all places, ya’ know.”

“Which is exactly why it would be a great place to ambush you,” she countered with a finger gun.

A sudden thought crossed Barry’s mind and he turned to the Kryptonians with a deadpan expression. “You two could see her, right?”

“Yep,” Clark replied.

“And you didn’t tell me.”

“Nope.”

“Right,” Barry huffed, returning back to Batman. “So, she’s going to be doing her investigative journalism thing and we’re, what, going to collect evidence for her?”

“Not exactly,” Lois said. “I just need you to be my eyes and ears. I’ll be leading my own investigation, but anything you pick up can be important.” She held up a small silver device in her hands. “I’ve also gotten one of these handy-dandy Justice League communicators from Batman, so if I need help, I’m counting on you.” She winked.

“Okay, so we’re just being looped into this whole thing?” Barry asked.

“That’s correct,” Batman said. “We’re treading carefully for now, so we’ll let Lois build up the journalistic case against Luthor and augment it as needed with evidence that we come across. Now that we are on the same page, we can coordinate our efforts better on this matter.”

Barry sighed. This was a new realm for him entirely, with a far more political Batman and a more covert Justice League. The League he remembered was more about flying—or in his case, running—around helping people, beating bad guys, and saving the day from the bad guys of the world, which were occasionally not from Earth at all. This new Justice League seemed darker, for lack of a better term. More willing to operate in the shadows that the past one had eschewed in favor of standing tall and proud for what they did.

“We should tread very carefully,” Superman warned, his arms crossed. “Bruce, you know as well as the rest of us that the line between a potentially justified preemption and a blatant use of our powers for our own ends is all too thin.”

“I’m aware,” Batman gruffly responded. “But you know as well as me that Luthor is a dangerous man. If there is even a one percent chance that he took down that plane, then I will not take the risk of letting someone like him into the halls of political power.”

Superman looked at the Dark Knight for a few moments, his stare seemingly penetrating the other man’s cowl, but the Man of Steel eventually nodded. “I’m still not happy with Lois being brought onboard, but somehow I feel like she’d have found herself entangled in this mess anyway, and I don’t think anyone could’ve stopped her.”

“You know me,” Lois said with a smile, striding over to Superman and giving him a light kiss on the lips. “Just think of it as part of my usual day job.”

Superman rolled his eyes, but Barry could tell that he had been pacified on the topic – for now, at least.

“We will keep knowledge of this initiative siloed among the people gathered here,” Batman stated. “The less people that know, the better. I brought in only those that would be able to quickly respond in case Lois needs help or if there is a situation that requires rapid response.”

“That explains me, I guess,” Barry muttered under his breath. It made more sense than bringing him in for his nonexistent investigative skills – Iris would’ve been far better suited than him for that.

“If there’s nothing else, then we’ll be going,” Clark said, Lois already in his arms.

“Uh, wait up!” He jogged over to the three others. “Kara, can—uh, can I talk to you?” Barry asked, his heart pounding fast enough that he was sure she could hear it. If she could, she didn’t make it known.

“Of course, Barry,” she replied simply, her head slightly tilted in curiosity.

“Alone, I mean.”

Her eyes flicked to Clark. “Yes.”

They strode over to a corner of the warehouse, away from the central console and where Batman, Clark, and Lois stood. This corner was still dusty, uncleaned from whatever its last use had been, but Barry ignored that.

“What bothers you, Barry?”

“Well,” Barry began, swallowing. “Um, I just wanted to tell you that I—I got dumped this week.”

Kara gave a quizzical look. “I apologize if I still do not fully understand the nuances of English, but I thought that getting dumped meant the end of a relationship.”

“Right,” Barry nodded. “Yeah.”

“Then, you are no longer in a relationship with that person? What was her name… Aerith?”

“Iris.”

“Yes,” Kara agreed, her tone suspiciously sarcastic for a Kryptonian not named Clark Kent. “That is right. Iris. I am sorry for the end of your relationship, then.”

She did not sound all that sorry, which gave him a sudden burst of hope. Barry was at a loss for words anyway, so he decided to just go for it. That was usually the best way to do these things, if his memories from this world were any indication. If he shot his shot and missed, he could always spend the rest of the night screaming into his pillow.

“Do you want to grab a coffee with me? I mean, as a date. Like a coffee date. But not like friends on a coffee date. As more than friends. For the date.”

Barry bit his lower lip and wanted to die.

Kara’s eyes flicked up to look directly into his, and as the silence stretched on, his heart sunk even further, his stomach turning into a lead block. Silence was never good. Inscrutable looks were never good either. He could feel it, the stinging bite of oncoming rejection—

“Yes,” Kara responded softly, “I would like to.”

His heartbeat was fast enough to power Central City for the next decade. The biggest smile he could remember making in this world erupted onto his face.

“Great! I mean, cool, yeah, that’s awesome. Um, I was thinking maybe this Saturday if you were free?”

Kara’s mouth curved upward into a small smile. “I will be sure that I am.”

Barry nodded rapidly. “I was thinking of Dan’s at like eleven. It’s a nice local place over in Brookfield Heights, in Central City. Or you know, wherever, I’m down to meet somewhere else if you’d prefer.”

“That sounds nice,” Kara said. “I will see you then – eleven on Saturday at this ‘Dan’s’ coffee shop. I will look it up on the World Wide Web beforehand to find its location.”

He rubbed the back of his head as she began to walk back to Clark and Lois before hurriedly pulling his hand back down. She half-turned, a smile on her lips, as she waved back at him, and he eagerly returned it. Clark walked past her and toward Barry, which made him decidedly less enthusiastic. The man’s mouth was curved into a smile, but compared to Kara’s, it looked positively evil.

“Oh, hey, Clark,” Barry greeted. “I thought you guys were about to leave.”

“We will.” Clark didn’t move, unnerving smile still in place.

Barry wanted to shrink in front of his imposing form. “So… I’m guessing you overheard us.”

“Every single word,” Clark confirmed with that beaming smile. He leaned in closer, his smile just as white and bright as ever. “I know you can’t physically hurt her if she doesn’t want you to, but if you break her heart in any way…” The Man of Steel placed a firm—very firm—grip on Barry’s right shoulder as his smile slipped away. Barry could almost swear that Clark’s eyes were glowing ever so faintly red. “… we’ll cross that bridge if we get there. So, don’t get there.”

As quickly as it had disappeared, that smile was back on Clark’s face and the grip was gone. He patted Barry on the back just hard enough for a bit of air to come out of Barry’s mouth as he stumbled forward slightly. “I’m happy for you both, though. We saw it coming a mile away.”

“We?” Barry spluttered out.

Batman strode up to Clark and pressed a bill into the Kryptonian’s hand.

“I said within a year,” Clark explained. “He didn’t think you’d have the guts to do it at all, and that she’d have to ask you first. Easiest Benjamin I ever made.”

“Gloating is a bad look on you, Clark,” Batman intoned.

“Probably,” Clark admitted. “But how many times am I going to get to tease someone about my cousin’s first date? I’m basically morally obligated to savor the moment and give Barry here the regular warnings. Plus, with the number of boys she turned down in Smallville, I knew that I was going to win from the get-go.”

Barry would’ve said that the savoring had gone on long enough, but he wasn’t about to interrupt.

Clark placed his hand on Barry’s shoulder again, though this time it was a light touch. “By the way, I could hear your heartbeat pounding like a stampede from the moment you saw us after we flew in. Just to let you know.”

Insult to injury.

“So…” Barry trailed off.

Clark nodded in unspoken confirmation. “Don’t worry about it. You like her. She likes you. Take it easy and have fun. Safely.” He slapped Barry’s shoulder gently and spun around to rejoin Kara and Lois. As the three of them took off—Lois in Superman’s embrace—Kara shrugged once with a smile on her face in Barry’s direction before she departed.

“I have a date,” Barry said with sudden realization after a few moments of silence. “Oh, crap, I have a date with Kara! How am I supposed to prepare for it?”

“This isn’t your first time,” Bruce said, now leaning against his computer console with his cowl off and arms crossed. “Relax.”

“Well, it’s my first date with a Kryptonian, so, you know, I’m still kind of freaking out over here and not relaxing. I’m not exactly sure if my experience translates over, and even if it did, it’s not like I’ve got all that much to begin with.”

“You’re the one who chose to ask her out. You could’ve just asked out a human girl instead, like the rest of us, if you wanted to avoid the drama.”

Barry squinted at the billionaire. “O…kay, but you’re dating Catwoman of all people. She’s like the dictionary definition of drama.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed in return. “… Alright, that’s fair.”

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

A lifetime of luxury clothing and finely tailored suits and tuxedos had never quite suited Alexander Luthor Junior – or Lex Luthor the Second, as he preferred it, if someone truly wished to see him as his father’s son. He didn’t like to be reminded that he was the direct junior to his father’s senior. It was just another shadow of the man he could never quite escape from.

Lex fidgeted in the tuxedo that he wore now, seated in the back of a limousine taking him to yet another benefit gala. It was a hot and stuffy affair, the tuxedo, despite being sculpted specifically for his form and his being in an immaculately temperature-controlled vehicle that cost more than most people would ever make in their lifetimes. Perhaps, then, it wasn’t the tuxedo that was the problem. No, his anxiety may have originated elsewhere. In times like these, he wished that Mercy was beside him. His father’s secretary was unquestionably loyal to him instead of his father, pleasing to the eyes, and would service him without complaint in any way he needed. But it would’ve been a faux pas to bring a mere employee with no notable station in society—and his father’s direct employee, no less—as his companion to such an event. As the heir apparent to one of the world’s largest fortunes and soon to be in de jure control of one of its largest conglomerates, he needed to maintain appearances in all of the relevant circles. And, to top it off, his father would’ve had choice words about more than one thing and applied greater scrutiny to Lex’s future actions. That was not something that Lex was willing to risk – not for Mercy Graves.

So, Lex was alone. Such was his life.

Even so, he could almost hear Mercy’s voice, soft and kind and gentle and alluring, in his ears. It was a voice he allowed to play in his mind. He knew her so well that he could imagine her dulcet tone in any configuration of words, whispering sweet nothings.

“Don’t worry, Lex. I’m with you. Always.”

“Sir,” his driver, whose name consistently escaped Lex’s mind, spoke up, “we’re about to arrive.” Lex looked out of the tinted window.

Indeed, they were pulling up to a museum—the Fine Arts Museum of Metropolis, if he remembered the invitation correctly—and Lex readied himself for the circus of animals he would have to endure for the night. The limo came to a slow stop, and when his driver, exiting and walking around to open his door, finally made it to Lex’s side to open his door, the charade began. That smile, honed by specialized coaches and practiced so much in the mirror that the mere thought of those memories hurt, immediately came to life, and with a wave, he exited the limousine and walked down the red carpet that had been draped over stone tile.

The bright lights flashed before his eyes, and he resisted the urge to hurl those cameras back at their photographers. If the whole affair was a zoo, then he felt like the spectacle – the attraction that everyone wanted to gawk and point at.

An older male reporter, slightly balding, called out, “Mister Luthor! What do you think about your father’s nomination for the vice presidency?” Ignored. He wasn’t about to stop for a question tonight, and certainly not for one about his father.

“Lex, over here!” a young, pretty woman with flowing brown hair gestured. Channel Five News in Metropolis, if he read the microphone flag correctly. The conservative evening gown she wore did little to hide her curves. Perhaps he’d have to get Mercy to find out what this particular reporter was willing to do to get the best story she’d ever have in her likely-pathetic career. “Is it true that you’re in a relationship with actress Ally Grace after a night out on the town?”

“She wasn’t as good as me, was she, Lex?” Mercy’s voice called out.

He smirked in her direction, a slight curve up only the left side of his face. “No comment, miss.” He continued on, not bothering to listen to whatever inane reply she was bound to give. Grace had been a detour, a sideshow, a fun thing to play with but with little value between her ears. His money alone had been enough to bring her to her knees, slaving away like a dog. He was content with a single night’s pleasure from such a woman, but nothing more.

The steps into the museum proper were many, but soon enough, Lex found himself on the open landing of its entrance, where a number of attendees were moving about. He ignored them, walking through the wide double doors into the lobby, which had been converted for the use of the benefit gala into a large and open space for mingling.

His initial assessment was correct – it was a circus of animals, as varied as a zoo and as deviant as a freak show. The people before him, with few exceptions, were dressed in the highest-quality tuxedos and designer dresses that money could buy. The ostensible purpose for the gathering—a commemoration of the ground-breaking for a new main building for the Museum, courtesy of the investment funds pouring into Metropolis and to be built in the new core district of the city—had already been long forgotten despite the night just beginning. People were here to rub shoulders, not to celebrate anything other than themselves. They were all self-absorbed and beyond narcissistic, caring little for the fact that they were no more than modern feudal lords enjoying the wealth of an entire world.

“Not like you, Lex. Never like you.”

Lex almost hated himself for becoming yet another one of the socialites in the den of savages.

Almost.

“Lex!”

He turned to the source of the call, seeing none other than Bruce Wayne, with a dark-haired woman on his arm, waving over at him. The man, despite his extraordinary wealth that was only matched by the Luthor family fortune, still somehow managed to mess up what was no doubt an obscenely expensive outfit; his bow tie was slightly askew, and one side of his dress shirt underneath was slightly untucked – perhaps the result of a pre-event rendezvous with the eye candy hanging off of his arm.

“Lex,” Bruce greeted him a smile on his face. “I’d like you to meet Selina, my date.”

Lex’s mouth curved upward as he looked up and down the woman, who may as well have been the living embodiment sex on legs. Her face was equal to or even prettier than those of the models he normally associated with, her red lips complimenting dark green eyes and her stylish pixie cut giving her an air of glamor that would have not been out of place at a film premiere. Dark eyeliner, tastefully done, accentuated her eyes. Her dress, a silky black fabric, toed the line perfectly between fashionably sexy and downright scandalous, revealing her bare shoulders and back and titillating the eyes with teases of what lay beneath. If he wasn’t wrong, she also wasn’t wearing a bra, with the faintest outline of her nipples almost poking through the thin dress. A set of white pearls around her thin neck, a pair of long evening gloves, and a pair of silver strappy heels that accentuated the length of her legs and seemed just a little taller than proper completed her look for the night.

He felt himself harden, though he maintained his façade as he shook those thoughts out of him. Not out of respect for Bruce, of course, but rather because he’d rather not turn the man, one of the few acquaintances he associated with that could even be considered remotely friendly or at least not outright antagonistic, into an enemy over something as simple as a mere woman. An unquestionably beautiful woman, no doubt, but a single woman, nonetheless.

“She’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she? I think it’d be fun to take her together.”

“Charmed,” he intoned, bring her gloved hand to his lips and stopping just short of actually kissing the fabric. “Miss…”

“Kyle,” she replied, her voice ever so slightly deeper than he had expected. “Selina Kyle.”

“Miss Kyle. I’m Lex Luthor.” Lex said, letting her hand fall back to its place. “I’m afraid I haven’t met your family before, but it has been some time since I made the rounds in Gotham. I’m due sooner rather than later.”

“Oh,” she giggled lightly, “I’m a self-made woman, Lex. First generation wealth.”

That was mildly interesting. Certainly, it was outside of the usual socialite crowd that Bruce normally hung around, if the tabloids were to be believed. His eyes flicked to Bruce, who had become quite engrossed contents that a nearby waiter was carrying in a silver tray. “Perhaps not for long, if you play your cards right.”

She waved a hand at him. “Oh, Bruce?” She smirked, leaning into a whisper. Her breath was hot was on his ear, which only forced him to restrain himself further. Their bodies were barely apart, her breasts mere inches away from his chest. “He’s nice and all, but if I’m honest, he’s quite boring. I’ve got my own money, so I doubt that his money’s worth putting up with the personality of cardboard.” She chuckled lightly in his ear. Bruce’s attention was still afar. “And frankly, he’s terrible in the sack. Unlike for some others, I’ve heard.” She finally pulled back out, her smile now all the more salacious in that context.

His initial assessment was wrong. Kyle was no simple piece of eye candy – she was the entire candy store, and he felt like a child with a handful of dollars and wide eyes at the selection under her hot and heavy gaze. He felt that raw, unadulterated desire in raging into force now from her risqué appearance and words, the need to feel her lithe body under his own, her moans in his ears, her dainty hands running through his hair as she screamed his name and not that stupid oaf’s, to dominate her completely and make her his—

“What are we talking about?” Bruce said, reentering the conversation with a partially full mouth and a tall sparkling drink in his hand. Typical. Lex blinked and exhaled to recenter himself back into reality.

“About you, my dear,” Selina said, winking at Lex. He felt like his loins had just been set on fire.

“All good things, I hope,” Bruce commented, draining half of his glass in a single gulp. For the handsome scion of a wealthy family, Bruce Wayne had manners that would make a pauper blush. Lex resisted the urge to shake his head at the display.

“Bruce Wayne is nothing compared to you.”

“Just the truth,” Selina cooed, leaning in to kiss Bruce on his left cheek before rolling her eyes at Lex. From the angle she stood at, slightly behind Wayne, the idiot couldn’t see her eyes at all.

Lex smiled, though not at Bruce. “How’re you doing, Bruce? Business is good, I hope?”

That was a lie. Wayne Enterprises could burn and crash for all Lex cared – that would only mean more marketshare for LexCorp. Wayne was a competitor in a variety of industries ranging from finance to medicine, and most infuriatingly to his father, Wayne Aerospace still held a sizable market lead over LexCorp despite tens of billions being invested on that front in recent years.

“Same old, same old, Lex,” the slightly inebriated man replied. He wrapped a hand around Selina, his hand on her left shoulder, to Lex’s slight enragement. It was an absolute travesty that a prime specimen like her was being besmirched by a brute like Bruce Wayne. “A little bit of this, a little bit of that. I spent a good bit in Europe, hitting the slopes and seeing the local sights, if you catch my drift.”

Every word that came out of Bruce’s mouth only somehow lowered Lex’s opinion of the man. He supposed that his expectations were too high of someone that had dropped out of Harvard after only two years. But for even the notorious playboy to overlook the world-class beauty he had on his arm for other women seemed like a bridge too far. Selina was a goddess among women.

“Ugh,” Selina groaned, clearly annoyed by the buffoon’s words. “Bruce here didn’t think it was appropriate for me to tag along. A ‘bachelor trip’ as he called it.”

“Bruce!” Lex said, faux-jovially admonished. “How could you leave someone so pleasant behind on a trek across Europe?”

Bruce shrugged and waved it off. “It was just me and the boys. You get how it is, Lex.” He turned to Selina. “Dear, why don’t you go along and find some of your lady friends? I’m sure they’re swimming around in the crowd somewhere.”

Selina shrugged her beautiful shoulders, shot Lex one last hot look, and turned. She strutted away into the crowd, the sway of her hips almost mesmerizing Lex before he realized that gawking at her wasn’t a good idea in present company. Not that Bruce seemed to have noticed, already leering after another woman to his left.

“What a woman, Bruce,” Lex said, tapping the other man on the shoulder. “You sure know how to pick them.”

“Only best, Lex, only the best.” Bruce spun around. “Didn’t you have that blonde chick as your secretary? Where’s she at?”

Lex felt jealousy rise in his heart. “Mercy couldn’t make it tonight, unfortunately. I’m sure she and Selina would get along.”

“You know me too well. Of course, we would.”

“Oh, that’d be nice to watch, if you catch my drift.” Bruce’s eyebrow shot up suggestively.

Lex indeed knew what Bruce meant, but unlike Bruce, he wasn’t willing to share. He checked his watch – a new luxury piece which had a price tag that he hadn’t even blinked at before purchasing it. They had spent some time already outside, and no doubt the speakers were already on the stage in the venue proper, but there was still a sizable crowd outside mingling. That went to show how much people really cared about fine arts.

“I think we’re late for whatever bozo they got to talk,” Bruce nodded with his head toward the doorway that led into the museum’s main auditorium. “You wanna just shoot the shit for a bit, catch up and reminisce on old times?”

The last thing he wanted was to be stuck with Bruce Wayne for another hour out of sheer politeness. He had half a mind to call for his driver and leave the event early by citing the onset of an illness.

Lex reached his phone, but when he felt the jacket pocket he normally kept it in, he realized it wasn’t there. Had he taken it out earlier? Perhaps he had left it in the limo. He thought about calling his driver until he realized that not only did he not know his driver’s name, he also didn’t know his driver’s number, so even if he did borrow someone else’s, it would be of little use.

“Sounds good, Bruce,” he said, forcing a smile onto his face. “Let’s get a couple of drinks and find ourselves a table.”

“Lex,” Bruce began after taking a sip of his sparkling drink – a diluted ginger ale, not champagne like he led everyone to believe, “I hear LexCorp’s been making some deals lately. Foreign land contracts?”

“Nothing special,” Lex replied, imbibing some undoubtedly expensive but eminently affordable—for him—bourbon. “Resource rights, mineral extraction, the usual.”

Bruce chuckled. “All the way in Nairomi? You’d have to post an army too while you’re at it, and to do what, dig up some sand?”

Lex gestured with his glass in his hand. “Well, LexCorp’s security contractors are some of the best out there.”

“Touché,” Bruce nodded. He knew that was a distinct undersell. LexCorp’s private security contractors were not only ridiculously expensive, but they had been used to great effectiveness across the world in multiple theaters of conflict, waging war on behalf of warlords and tinpot despots that had robbed their peoples to pay into the Luthor fortune.

“And there’s more in those deserts out there than just sand. Rare minerals and all. Perhaps you should be looking into your people over in the mining industry – they might be slacking off a little over there.”

Laughter made Bruce’s shoulders shake as he drained much of what was left in his glass. “Might be a few bad eggs in there. I should probably clean house if they’re losing this much ground to LexCorp.”

There was no need to clean house – Bruce had seen the survey reports himself, and the cost of extracting rare-earth elements in Nairomi was extravagant and unprofitable. Lex was lying, or he was an idiot – Bruce was still undecided on that front, but it was worth looking into later, so he filed it away.

Lex shook his head with mirth. “Don’t take it personally, Bruce. You can’t be on top forever.”

“I never do, Lex. I never do. What’s in Bialya, though? I can’t imagine you’re looking for rare earths there, too.”

Lex raised an eyebrow. “You mean other than the military dictatorship masquerading as a government? Three very profitable words: lucrative arms contracts.”

Bruce frowned as he purposefully spilled what little liquid was left in his glass on the front of his shirt. “Oh, damn, that’s going to leave a stain.” The billionaire looked back up at Lex. “Is that even legal, selling weapons to the Bialyans? I doubt the Feds were happy with that.”

Lex waved a hand. “Come on, you know my father. Pull a couple strings, talk to a couple of congressmen, ba-da-bing, ba-da-boom, we’ve got export licenses. Plus, LexOil is doing some surveying as well, so the Bialyan market might get cracked open like an egg if they find anything worth drilling for.”

The two laughed at that, Bruce carrying on a little longer than comfortable.

“I see. Your old man,” Bruce continued, placing his now-fully empty glass back on the table. “He’s going to be the next VP, huh? That’s a pretty big change.”

“Well,” Lex said, leaning back in his chair, “if you’d consider me getting control of LexCorp after the old man goes from being just my father to being big daddy government, then yeah, I’d say it’s a pretty big change.”

“How’s that been?”

Lex sighed, rubbing the back of his head. “Slow. He’s so reluctant to give up any control of the company even though he’d be required to temporarily divest his interests for the confirmation.”

“Does he even want to be vice president? I can’t imagine it’s all that great of a gig. Can’t exactly be lounging on the beach for half the week.”

“He’s wanted to run for the presidency ever since I could remember,” Lex said with an exasperated tone as he rolled his eyes. “Every other election, he drops hints about a potential run, and then never does it. I think he thinks that this is his chance to get in.”

Bruce carefully thought about his next words as he looked at his empty champagne flute. “It’s not great timing, huh? I mean, coming in hot off the heels of the first vice prez getting—” he made a gesture across his neck with his thumb, “doesn’t look great, especially since he’s a big corp billionaire. You know how the optics of that look.”

“You think my father cares about what the people think? He doesn’t even care what I think.”

Bruce could sense the tension in Lex’s voice, so he strategically chose to drop the conversation with a snort. The two sat in silence for a few moments, their drinks finished, as others milled about past their table.

“Have you ever read Le Morte d’Arthur, Bruce?” Lex suddenly asked.

He huffed. “Lex, when was the last time you saw me read anything? I don’t even know any Spanish.”

Lex sighed. That in itself was a fairly average response from Lex, stemming all the way back to their days at Harvard whenever he talked to someone he believed was of lesser intelligence. Which was just about everybody. “Anglo-Norman, actually, so closer to French. You might know it as ‘The Death of Arthur’ if you’ve heard of it.”

“The cartoon aardvark’s dead?”

“The king,” Lex corrected. “Round Table, Camelot – that whole narrative.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bruce nodded, making sure to let his eyes droop slightly closed, as if from drinking too much even this early into the night. “That sounds familiar.”

“Arthur as we know him today,” Lex continued, “was a product of Geoffrey’s Historia Regum Britanniae, which also spawned the legend that would become Shakespeare’s King Lear. In those days, Arthur’s killer, Mordred, was merely the man’s nephew who had cuckolded him by seducing Guinevere. Where the story truly became interesting, however, was in Le Morte d’Arthur, where Mordred became Arthur’s bastard son.”

“And why would that be more interesting?” Bruce yawned out. The yawn was false in how it came about, but quite real in intent; nothing Lex said was novel to Bruce. He had already Geoffrey’s collection when he was a young child, and personally, he had always preferred Geoffrey’s pseudohistorical take on Leir and Cordelia over Shakespeare’s Lear.

“Because it refocused the narrative. No longer was this the rivalry of a older man against a younger man who had risen to take both his kingdom and his woman. No, now it had become a tale of an illegitimate son against his father, raging against the injustice that Arthur had wrought upon him. You see, like the biblical Herod’s massacre, Arthur had killed the newborn boys of his kingdom, with Mordred being the lone survivor. It was his mantle, then, to find justice against Arthur, to overcome what his would-be father had created.”

“Hm,” Bruce intoned, his eyes almost fully closed now. He wasn’t quite sure where the conversation was headed, but he still committed it to memory. Anything that Lex Junior said was worth noting, even if all it revealed to him now was that the man was apparently a fan of the Matter of Britain. “That sounds… well, like it would a neat movie.”

“Tell that to Hollywood,” Lex scoffed, finishing the last of his bourbon. “They haven’t been able to make a good movie about it in decades, and virtually none of them ever get to Camlann.”

“Time to buy up a movie studio or two? You could make your own flick.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

The two laughed again.

“Dear?” Selina’s voice came from behind Bruce, and he lazily turned around to see her walk toward him. She shot a look toward Lex—the kind she had been strategically doing all night long—that the other man no doubt thought he was the sole beneficiary of. “I think it’s time to call it a night.”

“Oh,” Bruce purposefully slurred, looking at Selina, “is it that time already?” He faux-yawned again. “I suppose I better call it here. Lex, it was a pleasure.”

“All mine, Bruce.”

Bruce stood up and glanced at Selina, who imperceptibly nodded in return.

As they walked away, Bruce cast one last look back at Lex. The other man was seated at the table, alone, staring off into space as if contemplating the secrets of the universe. He was completely, entirely still, his eyes unfocused and his hands limp at his side.

It was an unnerving sight that almost made Bruce stop, but he returned to his playboy persona as they reentered the mass of socialites that they called high society.

Selina kicked off the heels as she sat on the bed, gently massaging her feet. The heels made her legs look great, but they also killed her feet well into the next day. She shimmied off her tight dress, which cost way too much even if Bruce had paid the bill, and let it fall to the hardwood floor in a heap of fabric. Her undergarment came next, landing on top of the discarded dress.

Tiptoeing into the master bathroom, she quickly slipped into the shower and relished in the cascade of hot water that fell over her instantly. Despite a desire to setup a bath and just soak for hours to ease out the tightness in her muscles, she knew that she didn’t have that time for such a luxury. Dating a billionaire wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, especially when said billionaire was also a nighttime vigilante who moonlighted as the administrator for an entire damn team of superheroes. It was like something out of a Saturday morning cartoon, except she was living right in the middle of it.

She remembered Lex’s piercing blue eyes, running up and down her body. She closed her own, scrubbing ever so harder until her pale skin had turned red. It was almost as if he hadn’t just ogled her, but rather groped her with his hands as she knew he wanted. That wasn’t the first time she had been reduced to a piece of meat by the male gaze and she knew it wouldn’t be the last, but it never became any more comfortable—not that it should have—and Lex’s was one of the worst. The only time she had felt any worse than that was when her own father, or rather her biological sperm donor as she considered the man, had done the same to her without knowing that she was his daughter. Though whether that would have stopped Falcone from going any further was another question entirely.

Selina slammed a hand against the tile wall, forcing those thoughts out of her mind with a grimace. Falcone was long gone, and thinking about it did nothing to resolve a lifetime of torment that he had left behind in his wake. Her mind needed to be focused on what was in front of her, which was Lex Luthor, for better or worse – both Lex Luthors. A hand reached for the handle and shut the water off, letting the steam rise as she shook slightly. She had dealt with men like Junior before, and she’d gotten over it then. She’d get over this, too.

Stepping out of the shower and drying herself off, she slipped a simple t-shirt over her still slightly damp hair, a pair of exercise shorts, and in-door slippers before leaving both the bathroom and the master bedroom it was connected with. It was already past midnight, so she made sure not to step on that one creaky floorboard outside of Thomas’ bedroom, and she slipped down to the lounge that quadrupled as a library, a study, and the Batcave’s entrance. A book-pull later, and she was moving downward into the Batcave proper – perhaps the real heart of Wayne Manor.

Bruce was already there, still dressed in his tuxedo with the jacket haphazardly slung over his chair. That was probably going to leave a wrinkle, but she knew he didn’t care about that in the slightest. It irked her ever so slightly, but it was also an endearing action in its own way – Bruce cared so little for the trappings of his wealth that they were little more than a costume to him, and the important matters to him were the people that he had dedicated his life to helping. He could’ve chosen to live as one of the high society socialites that they had masqueraded as earlier and lorded over others, but instead, he chose a life of hardship and difficulty.

There was something about that notion that had deeply attracted her to him. A selfless streak that ran deep into his heart and reflected on everyone he cared for – which was no small number of people, either.

“Luthor,” Bruce began, before frowning. “Well, Luthor Junior, at least, has pathological compulsions. Overcompensation. Textbook narcissism. Father and Phateon complexes. Raging misogyny. He’s an egotistic degenerate who can’t help but feel superior to others even when he rages against his own sense of inferiority, and he’s prone to extreme hyperfixation. It’s why I suggested this gambit at all – a beautiful woman like you teasing him relentlessly with the possibility of taking from his rival? There’s no way he could resist.”

“You don’t have to remind me twice,” Selina said as she involuntarily shuddered again at the memory of the man’s leers. “He didn’t even touch me, but it’s gonna be a lot of showers before I feel clean again. He makes your average misogynist look like a real feminist.”

Bruce swiveled toward her, a serious look on his face. “I’m sorry for putting you in that position. I didn’t realize that he had gone so far off the deep end in the last few years. He wasn’t that bad when we were in school.” Bruce paused. “There’s… a hint, a little undercurrent of madness in him that wasn’t there before. Or maybe it was, and I just didn’t see it then.”

She cupped his cheek, sitting perpendicular to him in his lap. “Oh, Bruce. That was my choice, ultimately. If I really couldn’t handle it, then the headlines tonight would’ve been about how a rising female socialite from Gotham singlehandedly ended the Luthor bloodline.”

He blinked.

“Plus,” Selina continued, trailing a finger down Bruce’s defined jawline, “if I ever do get into his mansion because he can’t keep it in his pants, I could always use the opportunity for some practice for the Cat. She needs some these days,” she murmured directly into his ear, “after being cooped up in a damp, dark cave for too long.”

“The Bat might be persuaded to overlook a series of burglaries at the Luthor estate,” Bruce remarked with mirth. But that mirth disappeared from Bruce’s face quickly as his eyes flickered over her, concern evident.

“The phone,” Selina intoned, not wanting to broach any deeper topics – yet.

“Right,” Bruce nodded, swiveling back to his computer with her on his lap. On the table, connected via a cable, was Lex Luthor Junior’s smartphone, which she had slipped out of his jacket pocket when he was too enraptured by his lust to notice her hands.

“The encryption was top-notch,” Bruce continued.

“Can you break it?” Selina asked, looking at the phone.

“I did say ‘was’ – it’s been broken for a good half-hour. A bug in LexOS that opened a hole into the secured module—well, I don’t want to bore you with the details. Once someone has physical possession of your device, consider it cracked. I’m not about to report this bug, though.”

“Hm,” Selina grunted. “So, what’s juicy?”

“There’s a lot here,” Bruce admitted, one hand wrapping around her waist and pulling her into him – which she allowed. “Even from what I scraped before the phone was crippled remotely. I guess he found out it was missing and decided to nuke it. But what I did find were mining reports addressed to his father.”

“That sounds boring.”

“It would be, except for where they’re from. Luthor Senior has teams in Nairomi, Bialya, the southern Indian Ocean, and in the Pacific.” Bruce looked at Selina.

“The Kryptonian invasion points,” Selina answered the unspoken question. “But why?”

“It can’t be a coincidence,” Bruce asserted. “There’s something there that he knows, and we don’t. He’s also got draft forms for import licenses. Luthor Senior’s signatures are all over this, from the mining permits to letters to congresspeople for licenses. If I’m reading the calendar correctly, he’s already met with some of them about it, too.” He rubbed his chin. “Why Luthor wants to mine in these sorts of places is beyond me without more information.”

“Sounds like the League should check it out. Maybe a flyby of the mines?”

“Likely,” Bruce agreed. “Barry would be a good option, assuming he doesn’t just rush in and get caught like last time. Hal wouldn’t be bad either. I’ll think about it. But for now, I want to see how far we can get with intel on the ground stateside. Those mines aren’t going anywhere.”

“How’s that going to work?” Selina yawned out.

Bruce put the computer into standby mode. “I’ll get these files to Lois in the morning, but for now, let’s get you to bed.” He stood up, keeping her in his arms and carrying her bridal style into the elevator.

She wasn’t so tired as to not be able to walk back, but she accepted it nonetheless, sinking into the crook of his elbow as he made their way back to the master bedroom. Before she knew it, he had placed her directly onto her side of the King size bed, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw him strip out of the rest of his tuxedo, leaving the clothes on the ground as she had hers earlier, before he stepped into en suite. Water began to run a moment later, and she struggled to stay awake in the relative darkness.

Selina was barely awake in the dark bedroom when she heard the running water stop. A minute after that, and she felt Bruce’s comforting, warm presence slipping into the sheets behind her, one arm wrapping itself around her abdomen as he pulled in close to her. She finally let herself fully relax, and soon enough, she was asleep with the sensation of being cocooned in the arms of Bruce Wayne.

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

Barry fidgeted in the stiff wooden chair, alternating between checking the cheap plastic digital watch on his left wrist and looking out of the window he was seated beside. There were still three minutes until eleven, but he had already been there for half an hour, and every minute he waited only increased his anxiety a little more. The collared, short-sleeve shirt he was wearing wasn’t helping either, and despite it being mid-April and him having already discarded his jacket on the seat beside him, it still felt somewhat stuffy.

It wasn’t even that he feared being stood up—his original memories had no experience with that, period, and his new self hadn’t ever had that happen to him—considering it was Kara, but there was still a growing knot of tension regardless. Just normal nerves, perhaps. The fear of uncertainty creeping into his bones. He could feel his heart pounding in anticipation as he tried to remember all of the conversation starters from his newer set of memories in addition to the ones he had found online the night before. His hands cupped the now-cold coffee in front of him that he had been sipping on since he had arrived, and he looked back out the window, eyes searching for her.

The bell above the front door of Dan’s rang as it opened, and his head whipped around to see. He had done that countless times already, though it had never been her. Except this time, it was. His heart leapt as he saw her walk in, eyes darting around before settling on him with recognition. A smile appeared on her face, mirroring the one that had blossomed on his.

It occurred to Barry in that moment that he hadn’t ever seen Kara outside of her Supergirl outfit or the rags of her imprisonment, but she was dressed like, for lack of a better way to describe it, a completely normal, Earth-born human. To match the mid-April weather, she had a light-blue denim jacket over a plain white tank top shirt, along with dark skinny jeans that ran down to her slightly worn pair of Chucks. Her hair was styled outward more than usual, such that it framed her face rather than falling on it like it sometimes had in the heat of battle.

All in all, she would not have looked out of place at one of his two-hundred person lectures, blending in perfectly among a sea of college students. He wondered if she had flown over in that outfit, or whether her Supergirl suit was stored somewhere else. Unlike him, of course, she and Clark didn’t have the immediate worry of incredible amounts of friction creating a veritable firestorm around them whenever they exceeded a nominally fast speed; the wonders of Kryptonian biology versus the Speed Force, which Barry frankly still didn’t understand well enough for his own liking even after traveling between times and worlds through it.

“Kara,” Barry greeted, quickly standing and striding over to her to close the gap. And then he realized that he wasn’t sure if she liked hugs or whether it would’ve been appropriate to do so on a first date, but before he could make a decision, she made it for him by pulling him into a warm embrace. He didn’t remember Kara being a hugger, but then again, he supposed there were many things he didn’t know about her, and especially not this Kara who had spent far longer in human society than ever before. Like when she had carried him around the world, her embrace was strong—far firmer than he’d have expected out of a woman her size—but largely gentle, keeping him still but not uncomfortably so.

Once again, he was reminded that Kara was, at the end of a day, a person that he felt like he knew much better than he really did. The intensity of their shared experiences in such a relatively short period of time had contributed to that. He had saved her from prison, and she had returned the favor twice within the same day. Within a handful of weeks, they had fought alongside each other against Zod and his invasion of Earth twice, which would’ve been rather insane to think about out of context. And now they were both publicly declared members of the Justice League, the foremost defenders of Earth.

Except, through all of that, they had gotten very little time to actually talk to each other. Fighting alongside one another was good and all, but it was no replacement for truly getting to know someone heart-to-heart. All the fighting did was make it so that they knew how to complement each other and to trust one another with watching their backs. Barry didn’t want to get better at fighting alongside Kara; he wanted to get to know her better.

Kara’s hug loosened and they stepped slightly apart. “Hello, Barry. How are you doing?”

“Just fine, yeah,” he smiled and replied. “Not much, just some small-fry crime-fighting and whatnot.” He glanced over at the shop’s counter. “Uh, did you want to grab a coffee first?”

Her eyes flicked over to the menu, written in chalk, that hung above the barista’s head. “Sure.”

Project confidence, Barry thought to himself, and confidence would be imbued within him.

His second thought was that it just sounded like a meaningless mantra.

“What do you want?” he offered. “I’ll get it for you this time.”

Kara shot him a look. “I have money. I can pay for it myself.”

Barry swallowed. “I insist. Call me old-fashioned, but I still like to pay on the first date. I think it shows that I’m committed to this. Plus, my dad would never let me hear the end of it if I didn’t at least insist.”

She blinked as if in thought. Finally, she said, “Fine. But I will pay for the next time.”

His smile couldn’t be bigger. If his heart leapt any more than it already had, it could compete for the Men’s Vault at the Olympics. Not only had she acquiesced in letting him pay – which would resolve any argument about that – but she had tacitly hinted at the idea of a second date.

He just hoped that he wasn’t getting too ahead of himself, considering their first date had only gone on for about thirty seconds.

“Hi there,” the barista—John, his name tag read—greeted them. “Name, and separate or together?”

“Together, and the name’s Barry,” Barry replied.

“Great. What can I get you two?”

Barry glanced at Kara, who seemed to understand. “I will order the…” her eyes flicked quickly across the chalkboard menu, “Milky Way.”

“Sounds good, that’s a popular choice.” The barista tapped on his point-of-sale system a few times before looking up at Barry. “And you?”

Unfortunately, he also had been wanting to order the Milky Way – espresso, hot cocoa, caramel, and malt sounded like a pretty decent drink to him, especially compared to the cheap, plain black coffee he had ordered earlier. He wasn’t sure if he was overthinking it already but ordering the same thing as Kara felt derivative at best. He didn’t want to just seem like a bandwagoner who ordered whatever the popular thing was or didn’t have much of a taste for coffee on his own.

That part was true—Barry was an avid instant coffee drinker, owing to his perennial lateness to his job at the Crime Lab in the past world—but still. It wasn’t a particularly attractive thing he liked to advertise on coffee dates.

“Um,” Barry intoned, trying to buy time as his eyes flitted across the eclectic collection of names that Dan’s had for all of their drinks. “I… will… have the Ginger Cherry Blossom.” He almost regretted it as he said it. Cherries – he liked as an A-tier fruit. Coffee – he was perfectly fine with. Ginger – he basically never ate outside of Chinese takeout. The flavor of cherries and ginger in coffee? That just seemed like a mistake from the get-go.

John clearly agreed, his face curling into a frown. “Huh, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone order that before, and I’ve been working here for a couple years now.” He looked at Barry. “Congrats, man. I hope I still remember how to make it.”

Barry didn’t share that hope. He pulled out his credit card from the wallet he kept in his back pocket. John took it, swiped, and then flipped the POS system to Barry for tips. For his part, Barry squinted as he saw the options ranging from twenty percent to thirty percent before quickly tapping on the custom option and depositing a flat two-dollar tip – good enough for a twelve-dollar order, he’d say. Though based on the expression John had after he flipped the system back to face him, the barista disagreed with that assessment.

“I’ll have your orders out in just a sec,” John flatly said.

“Let’s grab a seat, then,” Barry suggested, turning to Kara. She nodded and followed him back to where his now-empty coffee cup still sat beside his jacket. As she took a seat opposite him, it finally began to set in for Barry that he was on a date with Kara, and looking at her, his mind started to just blank. All of past dates he had gone on with Iris and the studying he had done the night before seemed to go to waste.

What were those steps he had read online to keeping the conversation going, again?

Meaningful questions that didn’t just end in yes or no answers. Figuring out what she was interested in and steering it that way. Balancing the conversation so it wasn’t just her or him talking all the time. Not coming off as unflattering in the conversation.

Or perhaps playing it by ear and hoping for the best was the move. He didn’t know, which in and of itself was somewhat infuriating. Unpredictability had always left Barry on edge; it was something that he didn’t like in the slightest, but unfortunately it had been one of the few constants in his life. His parents, his school, his superpowers – they had all been curveballs,

“So,” Barry began, already cursing himself for thinking that the Internet could teach him anything other than embarrassment, “how’s life been with the Kents?”

“It has been good,” Kara said, her hands under the table as she sat with a straight back in her chair. That was another thing that stood out to Barry; apparently, he had never seen Kara sit before, but that wasn’t something he’d have thought about were it not for the situation in front of him. “The Kents have been very generous and kind in letting me stay with them. And I have learned much about the farm in my time there.” She seemed to stare into the distance for a moment. “They have treated me like family.”

“Well, in a way, you kind of are family to them,” Barry replied. “I mean, your cousin is their son, so that makes you basically their niece.”

“I suppose so,” she quietly responded. Her eyes flicked to him. “They do remind me of my aunt and uncle – Clark’s parents on Krypton.”

“What were they like?” he softly asked, sensing a mild undercurrent of tension in the topic.

“I was not as close with Lara Lor-Van, my aunt, as I was with my uncle, but what I remember of her was much like Martha,” Kara explained. “She was motherly despite not being my mother, and the last thing that she made me promise was to look after Clark.” She looked away for a moment.

“Jonathan, like Jor-El was, is a man of dreams,” Kara continued, turning back to Barry. “He has vision and sees when others do not. Clark told me once that it was Jonathan that once told him about what Superman meant to the world. That Superman was a rock for the people of this world, unmoved by the tides of the time.”

Barry had never heard such a thing from the Superman of his original world, and his curiosity was piqued. “What did he mean by that?”

Kara thought for a moment. “I believe Clark said that it was when he had first started being Superman. He was not very popular, and the people did not trust him. His unwillingness to kill the evildoers he was fighting against did not earn him favor in a world of chaos. But Jonathan told him, if I remember correctly, that despite people wanting easy answers to hard questions, Superman had to lead by example to show that there was a better way forward.”

She breathed out heavily before continuing. “Before I left Krypton, Jor-El told me that I had to teach Clark the ideals of our house, the House of El. That I had to teach him to work for a better future.” She smiled with sadness. “Despite… circumstances, I am beyond glad that Jonathan did what I could not. There could not have been a better father for Clark on Earth.”

“Wow,” Barry honestly replied. “I never knew that about Clark or his parents – both sets of them. That’s really aspirational, but also heavy.”

Kara frowned. “Heavy? Is there something wrong with the planet’s gravitational pull for you?”

Barry blinked. “Uh, no, it’s a—” He was cut off by laughter from her, which drew the attention of some of those around them, particularly the ones who were likely hard at work trying to finish their late assignments and whatnot, as she covered with her mouth with one hand and waved with her fingers at him with the other. The relative banality of the whole situation—a cultural reference, her laughter, her gestures—seemed so completely foreign on her. It was yet another change from the Kara that he had known.

“It is—” she started and stopped, finally containing her laughter, “it was something from an old movie that they showed me.”

He smiled in good nature. “Right, yeah. I think I’ve seen that one.” Barry also made sure to file away the fact that apparently Kara was a big fan of bad puns – that seemed like a potentially useful piece of trivia.

She was still finishing out the last of her laughter when Barry heard his name being called from the counter. “Wait a sec,” he said to Kara. “I’ll grab our drinks.”

He jogged up to the counter, where two drinks were sitting and ready to go. Barry exhaled sharply through his nose when he picked up his cup – Berry’s cup, if the name on the side was any indication. He glanced at John, but the barista in question was already preoccupied with another customer, so Barry simply shook his head and took both drinks back to their table.

“Thanks,” Kara said as he handed her the drink in his left hand. “That was quick. The few times I have bought coffee in Smallville were much slower than that.”

“I guess there’s just a lot more people here,” Barry commented, sitting back down and pulling off the lid from his cup. He blew gently on the steaming liquid. “Can’t afford to go too slow, right?”

“Mm,” Kara intoned in reply, already sipping on her hot drink. “This is very sweet. But enjoyably so.”

“It’s good that you like it.” Barry looked down at the brown liquid in his cup, wondering exactly how much ginger had been added to an otherwise sweetened drink. Deciding to take the plunge, he drank a mouthful of it after blowing again, and the coffee only mildly scalded the inside of his mouth as he felt it flow over his tongue and down his throat.

Barry had to admit that it really wasn’t all that bad. He could taste the notes in it – there was cherry, which was sweet. It meshed decently with the almost-chocolatey coffee flavor inside, a darker and fuller flavor. It was almost pleasant…

Then it hit. That aftertaste, which made Barry almost want to spit it out. What was that flavor? The ginger? He had eaten the occasional piece in his takeout from time to time and it wasn’t that offensive. Yet, in a sea of cherry, cocoa, and chocolate notes, it stood out like an uninvited guest whose primary goal was to wreck the party and leave. Why would anyone want to add it in, and in the quantity that they had done so? His glare flicked back to John the barista, who he was now fifty-fifty on being a supervillain that had somehow found out that Barry was the Flash and apparently had an incredible weakness to ginger-based drinks. Perhaps the man had simply added extra ginger flavor into the drink out of spite.

Ginger in coffee felt like an unholy combination on his tongue, and the taste made him want to walk into a church for the first time in fifteen years—not exclusively on this Earth—to beg for forgiveness. There was certainly time to repent for the many sins that had brought him to this point. He had never tasted anything like the coffee before him, and that was certainly not a compliment either. Melancholy finally settled in – his hard-earned money had been wasted on a drink, and now that six dollars and change was gone forever.

He swallowed, pushing the last bit of coffee that had stubbornly stuck around down as he deeply inhaled and exhaled. All that was left was the pungent aftertaste, lingering like an unwanted memory. There was nothing more to it. There was nothing else he could do other than smile and sip on it for however long the date went. The stages of grief had come and gone, and Barry was all that was left.

He finally noticed that Kara had been staring at him with a strange look.

“That was an unusual series of expressions your face just made,” she remarked, taking another sip of her own drink. “I assume that the drink you ordered was not quite what you had expected. May I?”

“You sure?” Barry grimaced. She nodded. “Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you, though.”

He passed the open cup to her, and she promptly drank a mouthful – he assumed that the whole “being Kryptonian” thing made her basically immune to the idea of a burned mouth, which was a superpower he wished he could have.

Kara’s face contorted as the flavor hit, her eyes widening as she spat it back out into the disposable coffee cup.

“Who could have conceived of such a thing?” she whispered. “The flavors are… wrong.”

He nodded. “Uh-huh. I guess there was a reason why no one was buying it.”

She looked back down at the cup that she had regurgitated the coffee back into. “I am sorry for spitting it back in, though I suspect you were not going to drink anymore of it.” Her eyes fell upon the empty coffee cup that Barry had been nursing before she had arrived. “Is that yours?”

“Yeah,” Barry replied, “but it’s empty.”

“Perfect.” Kara’s hand reached out and grabbed it, and she popped the lid off of her own drink before pouring half of it into his previous cup. She then replaced the lid onto the drink-that-shall-not-be-named and discreetly placed it onto an empty table nearby. “Here,” she offered, handing him back his cup. “An equitable solution.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I insist,” she stated, slightly shaking the cup enough to cause the liquid inside to ripple. “It is good. Trust me.”

Barry bit his lower lip. This was not an auspicious start to the date. “Well, how can I say no, then?” He reached for the cup and took it from her, bringing it to his lips. The rich aroma was readily apparent, and he took a small sip. The almost-overwhelming sweetness of it burst out in his mouth like fireworks on the Fourth of July, and his lips curled up slightly.

“It’s good,” he noted. “Really sweet, like you said, but not to the point where it’d be overpowering or nauseating.”

“Mmhm,” she hummed. “I wish that the coffee shops in Smallville would have drinks like this. The closest was Ma’s—I mean, Martha’s—hot cocoa. That, on a cold winter night wrapped up in blankets beside the fireplace, is a blessing.”

“That sounds really nice,” Barry wistfully replied. And it was. With just a few words, she had painted a warm, homely feeling of domestic relaxation, like something out of a fairy tale or perhaps a made-for-television movie. There was even a certain nostalgia in there for something that he had never personally experienced in recent memory. “I wish I had gotten to try some of that during the Christmas party last year, but unfortunately I think I was too late to get any.”

She smiled. “Only because Arthur drank too much. I am sure that Martha will make more next year.” Her smile seemed to fade just a little at that.

“So,” Barry began, sensing the momentum of the conversation begin to fade, “how have you liked Smallville? I know that you said it wasn’t exactly the center of the world.”

“I was more teasing Clark about that,” Kara admitted. “Smallville is small, but it is also big in its own way. I have gotten to know the people of the town better than I ever did those around me on Kandor. Size is not everything.”

Barry almost spat out a little bit of his drink. He supposed double entendres were still out of her wheelhouse.

“The Kents bring me many places around town,” Kara continued, seemingly not noticing anything out of the ordinary. “On Sundays, they go to church, which I have learned is a religious institution on this world. I do not quite understand their belief, but I have read the holy book there.” She shrugged. “It is interesting enough. Are you a member of that faith?”

Barry cleared his throat. His memories diverged on that topic, at least as far as his parents went. Another change from how his world used to be. He decided that speaking about his original world would be more genuine rather than speaking about the memories he had inherited. “My dad is, uh, Jewish, though he doesn’t really practice. Oh, and Judaism is kinda like the original that Christianity started from, if you didn’t know.”

“I do,” Kara replied.

“My mom…” Barry continued. “She… was religious. Pretty devout. Didn’t just go one day of the week or anything. When both my parents were still, um, around, they brought me to church on Sundays.” He pursed his lips. “My dad, in this world, is apparently the religious one now, but I haven’t really gone back since she died.”

Kara seemed to sense the tension in him, and she placed one hand on his. Her hand was warm and strangely soft, though he supposed that even farm labor wasn’t likely to create callouses on the skin of a Kryptonian.

“Did, uh, Krypton have any religions?” Barry finally asked, ending the moment. He took another sip of his drink, and she withdrew her hand.

Kara seemed to think for a moment. “In the past, there was the Cult of Rao. Rao was Krypton’s star, and many Kryptonians worshipped it as a deity. By the time I was born, this had become a minority belief. Zod and his people were professed worshippers of Rao. They called themselves the Sword of Rao.” Her gaze became unfocused. “Faora, though, was a true believer. She believed that Rao gave life to everything on Krypton and was fascinated by it. I did not believe in it. Nor did my parents or aunt and uncle.”

Sun worship was a familiar enough concept to Barry, though it seemed oddly quaint compared to the advanced technology that Kryptonians had possessed before their planet’s destruction. They fell silent for a little bit after that, enjoying their drinks in relative quiet.

“How about you, Barry?” Kara finally asked. “How have you been recently?”

How had he been? Barry honestly didn’t know. “So-so, I’d say,” he confessed. “It’s been like autopilot for the past few weeks. The semester’s just about done, so I’m about to graduate, for what that’s worth.”

“I believe congratulations are in order, then.”

“Thanks.” Barry faintly smiled. “Though honestly, I’m not sure if that’s a big deal or not. Barry here had things more on lock than I did. Now I want to go to law school, which is crazy.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, in my original world, I became a forensic scientist. That’s what I wanted to do because of what happened with my parents. I felt like…” he gripped his cup tightly, “if there was just some evidence, some physical evidence, that could’ve exonerated my dad, then he wouldn’t have spent all of those years in prison for something he didn’t do. Here, all of that was the same, except instead of wanting to find that kind of evidence, I’ve apparently chosen the legal defense route instead. The grades and exam scores are certainly there for it.”

Kara looked at him quizzically. “Is there anything wrong with this profession?”

“I mean, not really? Lawyers don’t have a great reputation, but I can understand why going into criminal defense makes sense. It even feels right to me, which feels weird by itself.” He paused. “I think that the split is what’s doing my head in. Were it not for some things changing, either path would have seemed completely plausible. It’s like I’m not really me anymore, or at least not fully the same Barry Henry Allen that I was.”

“I feel the same,” Kara revealed. “My memories of Krypton are much the same, but this Kara,” she gestured down at herself with both hands, “never faced the imprisonment and torture that I did.” She frowned. “If I was the one that faced that time to begin with.”

 The conversation seemed to be heading toward a darker place than Barry preferred, and Kara seemed to sense that too, so she shook her head. “So, what are your plans after this graduation?” she asked.

“Apparently, I’m just about locked in for another three years of schooling,” Barry sighed. “So between two lifetimes, that’s a solid ten-ish years in higher ed. My brain’s going to be fried after this.”

“We could always trade places,” Kara offered, the faintest impression of a grin beginning to appear on her face. “You can help Jonathan and Martha with this year’s harvest, and I will sit for your exams and schooling.”

“Somehow, I don’t think my classmates would believe that Barry Allen is an attractive woman,” Barry said, before rapidly blinking. “I mean, uh…”

She raised an eyebrow with a smile. “I will accept the compliment. You are good looking, yourself. Both versions of you.” She tilted her head. “It is strange since your appearances are not very alike, but in many ways, I can see similarities regardless.”

Barry absentmindedly touched his own face. “Huh. It took me months to get used to seeing this face and blond hair in the mirror every morning.”

“Have you ever thought about how it is that I,” she waved her hand in front of her face, “look the same but you do not? That is a strange series of events.”

“I talked with Bruce about it before,” Barry said, seeing her eyes narrow slightly at the mention of the man’s name. “The working theory is that multiversal mechanics are complicated at best, and that whatever happened to pull you, me, and Zod into this world wasn’t a straightforward ‘hopping between universes’ kind of thing.” He leaned back in his wooden chair. “More likely than not, you and Zod got pulled about as directly as can be from the past world. That’s the only explanation that makes sense.”

She blinked in clear confusion. “That does not make sense.”

Barry nodded in acquiescence. “Fair. But that’s all we have to go on for now.”

Kara nodded. “I will admit,” she changed topics, “that your schooling sounds interesting to me. Kandor did not have institutionalized learning by the time I was born. Instead, children were expected to learn on their own, with cyclical assessments to test proficiency. Of course, the process of genetic imprinting meant that everyone’s profession was chosen before birth. It is still a little hard to imagine a world where that is not so.”

“Ha,” Barry chuckled. “Like half of my classmates in undergrad didn’t even know what major they wanted. I myself swapped once as well. It’s pretty common on Earth, or at least in America.”

“Curious,” Kara noted. “Perhaps I should visit sometime and see what these classes and majors are like. The experience could be enlightening.”

“Well, the big lectures are actually pretty dry. There’s like two hundred people or more sometimes, and the lecturer—” He stopped when he felt his phone buzz. The vibrating pattern of his phone in his pocket made him whip it out instantly. It was the specific pattern that Bruce had coded for Justice League-related alerts. His eyes quickly scanned over the text of the alert.

“What is it?” Kara asked.

“It’s Lois,” Barry said, already halfway out of his seat. He grabbed his empty cup. “She needs help.”

“It is okay,” Kara replied simply, also standing up with her empty cup in hand. “Let us go.”

“Um, I don’t know if you brought your suit, and I could probably handle this myself if you’ve got—”

“I brought my skinsuit,” Kara said, tossing her cup into a nearby trashcan. Barry did the same. “I left it on the roof of the building.” She slipped out of the door, easily holding it open for Barry to do the same with a quick thanks. The street was almost empty, with the nearest pedestrians heading away rather than toward them.

“Meet you there, then?”

Kara grinned. “I will race you.”

“Don’t say that,” Barry warned. “If you want a race, you’ll get a race, and I never lose those.”

“Did you not lose a race to Clark just a few weeks ago?”

Barry scoffed. “That was for charity, Kara. And it was a tie. If I’m racing you, I’m going to do it for real.”

Kara’s response was to fly up. Barry rolled his eyes and entered the Speed Force, feeling that electric surge of speed course through him. In a flash, he had replaced his clothes with the suit stored in his ring, making sure that Kara was indeed looking up and not downwards at him. Faster than the blink of an eye, he was already halfway up the low-rise brownstone building that Dan’s was housed in. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Kara’s gaze shift over to him. He half-turned, waving at her with a big smile on his face, as he zoomed past her to the flat roof of the brownstone. A half-second later, and she was there too, a clear second place for a race that had only taken about a second in total to begin with.

If he had his full speed—the speed that he had at Pozharnov and used to run over a decade backwards in time with—the difference in time would’ve been even more stark.

“You are fast,” Kara commented, picking up a small non-descript black backpack that had been leaning against the brick railing that enclosed the rooftop. “I never realized how fast you were.”

“That’s not actually my full speed,” Barry responded. “I haven’t been able to go as fast as I could since getting to this world. And,” he held up a bundle of the clothes he had been wearing just moments prior, “any faster and I would’ve lost all of this.”

She nodded, pulling off her jacket to reveal bare arms and shoulders. Her tank top seemed rather revealing without the jacket on, and Barry quickly spun around as he realized that she was changing clothes. “Uh, I’ll let you change.”

“I am finished.”

His head half-turned to see Kara standing in her Supergirl outfit already, red cape billowing slightly in the breeze.

“Did you want to hold onto those clothes, or do you want to just keep them in my bag?” Kara offered, gesturing at the bundle he was holding onto.

“Oh, thanks,” he quickly said, handing it to her. She hastily folded the clothes and slipped them into her backpack.

“Now,” Kara said, turning back to Barry, “where is Lois?”

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

“This is your captain speaking,” Hal said out loud to himself, barely able to hear himself over the wind rushing past his ears. “We’re cruising at a nice ten-thousand feet, clear skies ahead with minimal chance of turbulence. Weather is a nice and balmy eighty-five degrees, with a light breeze coming in from the northwest. Our flight today will be a short fifteen-minute hop—”

“Lantern,” Batman’s voice cut through over the comms. “Keep the channel clear unless there’s something you need to report.”

“Roger that,” Hal nodded, switching off his comms. Truth be told, he hadn’t realized that he had left his comms on to begin with, so playing it cool was the only way for him to downplay the relative embarrassment. At least, as far as he knew, no one else was connected to comm network other than Bruce, so it wasn’t like Arthur or Barry would be ribbing him over that for days to come.

That had been a rather big shock, Hal had to admit. Batman had always been Batman – just a crazy phantasm of Gotham that had that city’s criminals shaking in their boots and occasionally made national news in a “did he exist” kind of way. Of course, that never stopped the rags from making up all sorts of monikers for the nocturnal vigilante, making him out to be a Sherlock Holmes-level detective with the brawn of Muhammad Ali and Bruce Lee combined. To find that out that Batman was not only very, very real, but also a billionaire was a wild revelation. And not just any billionaire, but Bruce Wayne, who was a darling of the tabloids that had made their home in supermarket checkout lines.

Clearly, Bruce Wayne’s playboy-and-drunk-shenanigans lifestyle was more for the paparazzi than it was reality.

Hal wished he could say the same about himself – less the playboy side, which was evidently not his forte, but more the drunk shenanigans. He had always been a habitual drinker, but the stresses of the last half-year, particularly with the whole Justice League thing, had been enough to push that into overdrive. It didn’t help that he and Carol had been broken up for a year after they had finally taken their on-and-off relationship steady. His apartment felt all the emptier without her.

His eyes glazed over as he stared down at the passing desert. The sand had long since merged into one giant beige nothingness. It didn’t stand out in the slightest, with the dunes seeming like little more than dark shadows from the height he was flying at.

He hated sand.

There was nothing wrong with a small beach and good ole’ R&R from time to time, but the large stretches of desert before him only dredged up bad memories that Hal would’ve rather not remembered. The imaginary vision of an experimental plane crashing into the desert. His father’s last words, almost garbled over the radio. He shook himself out of those thoughts – ruminating them would need at least a beer, if not a glass of whiskey, neat.

Hal switched his comms back on. “Batman, come in. This is Lantern.”

“Send traffic, Lantern.”

“I’m almost over the coordinates. I’m seeing some industrial activity, but I’m not sure what I should be looking for.”

“Whatever it is that Luthor is looking for, it’ll be inside the facilities.”

Hal narrowed his eyes even though Batman had no way of seeing him. “I thought you said this was just a flyby?”

“The mission has changed.”

Hal sighed. “Of course it has. Nothing can ever be too simple, huh?” Nonetheless, the Green Lantern descended discreetly – or at least, as discreetly as he could, given his green color scheme. At least the bright Sun above him generally obscured his approach, and the few guards that seemed to be on patrol around the mine’s perimeter were scattered enough that Hal could find an opening to land in the middle of the surface compound.

“Alright, Bats, what am I looking for?” There were a handful of prefabricated buildings that looked like they were being used for offices.

“Information about what they’re mining. If you can find a storehouse where they’re keeping the unprocessed material, that would also suffice.”

Looking around quickly, Hal tip-toed over to one of prefabs, jiggling the knob on the front door. As expected, it was locked, and while he could have busted it open without effort, he figured that Batman favored discretion over expediency in this case. Instead, he imagined a generic key, conjuring it in front of his ring and into the keyhole of the lock. Once it slid inside, he altered it ever so slightly, feeling for the cylinders of the lock until each of them was pushed sufficiently far back. With a simple twist of the conjured key, he heard the tell-tale click of the lock pulling back and turned the knob to open the door.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find inside, but as it was, there wasn’t much to see anyway. A few tables, a few chairs, a few desktop computers, and file cabinets to finish the room. It looked like the inside of every prefab office that one could find in a construction site or survey field.

“There’s… nothing here,” Hal commented. He strode over to the nearest cabinet and started flipping through the files inside, speedily glancing at each paper that passed. Nothing relevant. Just rote paperwork. “Nothing important, anyway.”

“A front?” Batman offered.

Hal turned to the desktops, which looked positively ancient and unused, a thin layer of dust accumulating between the caps of the keyboards. “Likely.” He looked at his ring, scanning for depth – essentially, turning the greatest weapon in the known universe into a very fancy and expensive stud finder. He swept across the room, feeling the density change until it plummeted when he came to a stretch of wall that was partially covered by two metal file cabinets.

“Gotcha,” he said to himself, striding over and lifting both cabinets out of the way. As it turned out, he needn’t have lifted them, since he ripped them right out of rails that they were connected to underneath the carpet. Behind the file cabinets, a staircase led downward into dark depths.

“There’s a hidden staircase here,” Hal reported. “I’m thinking about going in.”

“Watch yourself,” Batman warned. “There’s no saying what’s down there.”

“Yeah, yeah, got it, Bats,” Hal remarked, walking down the dimly lit staircase. “I’ve got this. I’m the Green Lantern.”

Batman didn’t respond, and Hal didn’t elaborate. Instead, he continued down the stairs, reaching the steel door at the end. With a simple push, he opened the door and peered within. It wasn’t particularly big, but it was filled with small crates that were stacked on top of each other.

“Lots of stuff here,” Hal reported. “I’m gonna check it out.”

He walked toward the nearest crate, about a foot and a half in all three dimensions like a cube and popped open the lid. A green glow illuminated his face immediately, and his Power Ring, which had been pulsing calmly before, started clicking like a Geiger counter. He looked into the crate, seeing an irregularly shaped green rock, almost like a crystal, that somehow emitted a green light from itself. The rock wasn’t all that big—maybe the size of a baseball if it had been squished into more of a vertical shape—and the crate was mostly padding and metal layers.

“Woah,” Hal breathed out. “Whatever this is, they’ve got crates of this stuff. And it’s hot, too. Like radioactive hot.”

“Are you safe?”

“Yeah, uh, I’ve had radiation shielding from the ring this whole time. Not about to risk the Jordan bloodline here, ya’ know?”

Batman was silent for a moment. “Take a sample. We need to know what it is.”

“You’re telling me that you had no idea what Luthor was handling over here?”

Batman didn’t respond for a moment. “I had my suspicions. I’ll brief you when you get back.”

Hal looked at all of the other identical crates. “Shouldn’t I destroy this stuff? We don’t know if it’s some kind of weapon.”

“If it’s radioactive, we don’t want to risk fallout. And no Leaguer can be implicated there. If someone sees you, then we’d have problems.”

That made enough sense to Hal. “Aye, aye. I’m heading out.” He closed the lid of the crate and picked it up with both arms.

If Batman said it was good enough, then he’d accept that at face value. He still didn’t quite fully trust the billionaire-turned-vigilante, but for now, Hal was okay with taking his orders.

For now.

Lois Lane sighed. Not only was Perry on her ass about finishing the long-term investigative piece she had been doing on the Metropolis City Council—at least two of its members were completely and utterly corrupt and beholden to corporate interests extending far beyond the rebuilding of the city—that she was admittedly running a little behind on, but Bruce had sent over a virtual truckload of documents earlier in the week. Hence, her Saturday morning was well and truly ruined, and now she found herself in the office at the crack of dawn on a weekend when she’d rather have been curled up with the person-sized space heater named Clark Kent to try and get work done.

And by work, she meant the stuff that Bruce had sent over, not the piece that Perry had been yelling about throughout the week. Because as important as it was to expose corruption, Lex Luthor was the head of the snake in her experience. The man’s shiny head could be seen in the reflection of every other backroom deal, bribe, or corruption scandal that ran through the city, and even though he was good at what he did, and she hadn’t been able to definitively pin anything to him yet, everyone made mistakes eventually. Especially if they had committed capital crimes in pursuit of the vice presidency of the entire country.

She had spent the better portion of the week shifting through the ridiculous number of files that had been contained on the drive she had been given. Much of it was more or less useless, if interesting – records made in the ordinary course of business that were regular and had no probative power to indicate anything other than LexCorp potentially being a cutthroat company. Like that would have been strange.

The more interesting parts of the files were what Bruce had pointed out to her. Mining reports, manifests for equipment shipments around the world toward that purpose, et cetera. Except that it still didn’t paint much of a picture to her. Ultimately, none of this pointed back to anything suspicious about Luthor regarding his recent appointment to the vice presidency. Hell, the man was even divesting his interests in the company to his son as a gesture of his good faith to be an uncorrupt politician. The gall of him.

“Lois!” a familiar voice. She poked her head out of her cubicle, seeing Jimmy Olsen rushing over to her. The young redhead had a coffee and each hand, his customary camera slung across his neck, and looked positively out of breath. “Didn’t realize you were going to be in here so early. I would’ve gotten you one as well.”

“No need, but I appreciate the thought, Jimmy,” Lois replied with a smile. “What’s the rush?”

“Cat wants me out with her at the Metropolis Run marathon to take pictures. It starts in an hour, so we don’t have much time.”

Lois raised an eyebrow. “Cat Grant wants to go to a fundraiser marathon? Well, I’ll be. That’s a first.”

Jimmy looked up sheepishly. “Ha, I mean, she wants to go there because she heard that Ted Kord’s in town from Chicago. She wants to get some inside scoops if possible, butter up the man. You know the drill.”

“Indeed, I do.” Lois sighed. “Good luck.”

“Thanks! I’ll see you later!” Jimmy rushed away, somehow not spilling a drop from the two cups of coffee he was carrying despite speeding down the aisles of empty cubicles.

Lois shook her head and returned to her computer. Sifting through documents, she landed on something that seemed at least marginally relevant to the downing of Air Force Two. Normally, she probably wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but days of fruitless searching had left her desperate.

It was a manifest for a shipment of capacitors to a LexCorp factory on the edge of town. That in and of itself wasn’t particularly suspicious, but she had done some digging and found that the capacitors in question had been designed and manufactured by a LexCorp subsidiary that dealt with aircraft components. The components were likely long gone, and there was no chance of her finding someone that knew whether or not those capacitors had been defective, but the factory in question was not only one with an attached aircraft maintenance hangar to service LexAir airplanes flying out of their Metropolis hub, and she knew someone there already.

Whipping out her phone, she shot off a quick message to meet and packed her things. Normally, she’d call Clark to fly her over, but since he had been off since the past night to manage issues in Europe, she would have to drive instead. When her phone finally lit up with the response, her eyes widened. What had been a wild shot in the dark was far more than that if her contact could deliver what he was promising.

The traffic on an early Saturday morning wasn’t too bad, and sooner rather than later, she found herself parking at the edge of one of LexCorp’s industrial parks. Any closer, and she probably would’ve been within sight of their many security cameras. That wouldn’t be beneficial to her investigation.

Exiting her car, she moved across the street from the industrial park to a dilapidated row of office buildings. Most of the businesses there had long since gone out of business, and Lois was about eighty-percent sure that Luthor owned most of the properties there and kept them purposefully vacant just to make it that much harder to see what he was up to in his factory proper.

As usual, her contact was already in the alleyway between two long-defunct businesses—Mario’s Merry Emporium and Metro Pizza, if the faded signs were to be believed—with a hood on.

“Joseph,” Lois greeted. The man, upon seeing her, hastily pulled off his hood, revealing a headful of short curls and dark skin.

Joseph Johnson had been a worker at LexCorp’s facility that she had made an acquaintance out of during an earlier run-in with Luthor. He had proven quite useful and informative a few times to her, and if she needed information from inside, he was the one to talk to. People at his paygrade often knew far more than they were given credit for, and lips were loose when they were around.

“Lois,” Joseph hurriedly whispered. The man fished out a handful of crumpled papers from his pocket. “I got this from a source inside. He’s a higher-up – like way higher up than me. Said he didn’t feel comfortable about what was going on.”

“What are these?” Lois asked, quickly scanning the documents. “Wait, are these—”

“I took a quick glance,” Joseph explained. “I think they’re reports, written directly to Lex Luthor. They’re all signed in receipt by his secretary, that Mercy woman, too. I have no idea how the source got his hands on them, but now you’ve got them.” Joseph looked around nervously. “We shouldn’t stay here too long.”

As if on cue, two black vans pulled up, one on each of the alleyway, blocking them in. The doors slid open and a number of men jumped out, walking toward them.

“Joseph, what’s going on?” Lois hurriedly asked, her eyes flicking between the rough-looking men standing on either side of her.

“Shit, Lois,” Joseph replied, his hands shaking. “I—I didn’t realize. They must’ve followed me.”

“Joseph Johnson,” one of the men said, “Mister Luthor thanks you for your service to LexCorp,” He pulled out a pistol with a suppressor from his jacket and shot Joseph in the head. The dockworker fell to the ground, blood spurting out of his wound, dead before he even hit the floor.

Lois held in her scream. It wasn’t the worst thing she’d seen in her relatively short career, but seeing innocents being gunned down never got any easier.

“Bag her,” the man continued, and Lois felt a cloth bag being slung over her head before she was dragged backward, likely into one of the vans. The road was bumpy, but the drive was short, and soon enough she was being dragged back out, put into a seat, and her hands bound behind her to whatever she was sitting on. Finally, the bag was ripped off of her head.

With the bag finally taken off, she squinted to let her eyes readjust to the lights and found herself bound to a wooden chair in the middle of an empty warehouse. Well, it would have been empty were it not for the armed men standing around her. It was an almost gratuitous number for little old her – by her count, nearly three dozen men. They all looked about as rough and dangerous as one would expect from Luthor’s henchmen.

“Mister Luthor’s regards,” the lead man said, his voice as gruff as his stature was large. “He apologizes for being late, but he does want to talk to you.”

“I think I’ve gotten enough of Lex Luthor’s hospitality for one day, thank you very much,” Lois spat back. “And what you did to Joseph—”

“Johnson had already crossed Mister Luthor once before. He had been monitored since. We knew that you would eventually contact him again. That he lived this much longer since the first time he betrayed LexCorp was already borrowed time.”

“What are we waiting here for, boss?” one of the guards asked. “This is just one girlie. Why do we need three squads?”

“Shut up,” the gruff man replied. “Orders are orders, and you’re paid to follow them. So, follow them.”

Huffing, the guard turned back to face the closed double doors into the warehouse. Lois wasn’t sure what they were waiting for other than Lex Luthor’s arrival, but she sincerely hoped that her distress call had been heard. The Justice League was—

The wall closest to her exploded open, its shrapnel flying out well past her in a shower of wood and metal. In the newly opened void to the outside, a figure with a flowing cape floated.

“Contact!” one of the men yelled, firing immediately into the figure’s center mass. The bullets, however, bounced off harmlessly.

“It’s Superman!” another guard screamed.

“That’s a girl, you idiot!” the leader replied. He pulled out a grenade launcher, firing at Supergirl to little effect. The explosion splashed harmlessly against her chest, and she floated there impassively still.

A burst of electricity from the other side of the warehouse startled Lois, and her eyes flicked over to see an orange-yellow blur, too fast to follow, zipping through the crowd, disarming and then knocking over each man in succession. Supergirl zoomed in as well, joining the fray with clearly restrained punches that only severely injured the guards instead of blasting them into human pulp.

The leader, still scowling, discarded his grenade launcher, drew a pistol—the make of which Lois couldn’t recognize despite her relative experience with firearms—and fired at Supergirl. In customary fashion, the Kryptonian didn’t bother to dodge as she punched another one of Luthor’s henchmen, but instead of the bullet bouncing harmlessly off of her skinsuit, it instead embedded itself into her left thigh, causing her to emit a yell of pain and shock. The leader of the goons barely smiled before his teeth were promptly knocked out by the Flash, who had come to a stop with all of the guards in varying states of pain behind him on the floor. Supergirl stumbled over and ripped off the ropes that bound Lois to the chair.

“Kara, are you okay?” Flash—Barry Allen, if she remembered correctly—asked. The man’s concern was evident even on just the lower half of his face. He reached over to steady her, and the Kryptonian didn’t seem to mind.

Lois pulled out the crumpled pieces of paper in her hand. “Look, we need to get this to Batman, immediately. It’s proof that Luthor’s behind the assassinations through sabotage.”

“Yeah,” Barry said, gesturing with a finger, “we can do that. Though I probably shouldn’t do that. I mean, I could, but I’d have to go pretty slow, or you might find it a little too hot.” His eyes flicked over to Supergirl. “Kara, how are you?”

“It hurts, but I will be fine,” Kara grunted out, looking at the blood oozing out of her left thigh. She unraveled herself from Barry’s support. “I can hold.”

Kara wrapped her right arm around Lois. The Kryptonian in question wasn’t quite as warm or big as Clark, but her grip felt just about as firm, and sooner rather than later, she was soaring into the air with Lois in her arms. The wind blew her hair into her face, and the wind forced her to squint her eyes to see.

Land turned into open water and then back into land quickly. Already, she could see the telltale silhouette of Wayne Manor in the distance. As they approached, Kara flew lower to the ground, pulling them upright as she came to a stop on the gravel front drive of the estate. She stumbled a bit, wincing in pain, and Lois stumbled as well.

“I am fine,” Kara bit out, preempting the voicing of concern from Lois. “Go. Get your information to Bruce.”

Lois nodded, and she ran up the steps to the front entrance of Wayne Manor, only sparing a single glance backward at the injured Kryptonian. Kara was already being supported by Barry, who had just arrived, and the two were limping their way somewhere together. Lois turned back and pushed through the grand double doors.

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

“I’ve fought in countries across the world, learned a half-dozen trades, and trained as a chef de partie in some of the finest kitchens in Europe,” Alfred muttered under his breath as he peered at the wound on Kara’s thigh through the rip on her suit’s fabric, “but I have never stitched up an alien before.” He looked at the needle in his medical kit. “I’m not even sure if I can stitch you up. Or whatever this… suit of yours is made of.”

“You cannot,” Kara bluntly replied before gritting her teeth. She was lying on the top of the table that sat just adjacent to the kitchen – clearly the more commonly used affair compared to the great hall that was on the left of the foyer of the manor. Barry absentmindedly noted the spiral staircase leading up and out of the small dining area they were occupying, it leading to a second half-floor that was lined with bookshelves and a railing from which someone above could look down below.

“My skin is too tough for your human instruments,” Kara continued. A thin sheen of sweat layered her forehead, and her hair was uncharacteristically messy as she panted.

“Well, this bullet would beg to differ, Mistress Kent,” Alfred said. He seemed to think for a moment. “There really isn’t much of a need to remove the bullet if we can stem the bleeding.”

“No,” Barry interjected, causing both pairs of eyes to turn to him. “It’s, uh,” he grimaced, “well, I think it’s kryptonite.”

Both faces remained blank.

“Excuse me?” Alfred asked. “What is kryptonite?”

“I have only heard the name in passing before,” Kara admitted. “I do not know quite what it is.”

“It’s this green rock…” Barry trailed off as he realized he didn’t know what it was other than what the other Bruce had once told him. He shook his head. “Point is, it makes Kryptonians weak – that’s why Kara actually got hurt from getting shot. I don’t think leaving it in is a good idea.”

Barry glanced at Kara, and she nodded in agreement. “Take it out,” she muttered.

Alfred pulled out a pair of tweezers from his medical kit. “This is risky. I’ve no idea what Kryptonian physiology is like, and there is no telling whether I might induce further bleeding. Though perhaps not, considering the hardiness of your average Superman.” He looked up at Kara. “Now,” he began, causing the Kryptonian to look at him, “say ‘what,’ please.”

Her brow scrunched in confusion. “What?”

Alfred plunged the tweezers into the flesh of her thigh, eliciting a scream from Kara. Barry winced as he watched Kara’s face contort in pain, the scream turning into a soundless, silent expression as she squeezed her eyes shut. He felt like he wanted to help, but logically, he knew the only thing he could do was watch and let Alfred do his thing.

“I’ve got it,” Alfred muttered, pulling out his tweezers. Squeezed between the tips was a small, glowing green object unlike anything that Barry had ever seen before. It was in the shape of a bullet, but devoid of the metal that clad those. As Alfred pulled it out, Barry noticed Kara’s eyes widen at the sight, and her breathing became quicker and shallower.

Alfred must’ve noticed it as well, because he quickly backed away from the Kryptonian, bullet still held between the tweezers’ tips. “I should get this to Master Bruce. He’ll want to see it.” With that, the butler exited stage left, quickly scooting down the hall toward the study where the Batcave’s secret entrance was located – though, at this point, virtually everyone in the Justice League seemed to know where it was, so its secretiveness was lessening by the day.

“Woah, Kara, don’t move too much,” Barry said, quickly speeding over to her side. With one hand on her back and another on her shoulder, he helped her slowly sit up. He looked down at her thigh, where a small stream of blood was starting to flow. “We don’t want to aggravate the wound. Damn,” he muttered, looking around, “I guess I could wrap it up, but I’m not sure—”

“The Sun,” Kara whispered. “I will heal in the Sun.”

“Sun, right,” Barry nodded. He lifted her up bridal style, finding her surprisingly light given her literal world-shattering strength. She felt basically the same as a regular human despite all that. “Uh, hold on tight.”

Kara slung an arm around his neck as he began to run, speeding just fast enough to move quickly but not so fast that it generated those characteristic sparks of electric charge that had given him the moniker ‘scarlet speedster’ in Central City’s newspapers and tabloids. He doubted Bruce or Alfred would’ve appreciated scorch marks across the hardwood flooring of the Manor. In all honesty, he had no idea how to get to the rooftop from inside in this version of Wayne Manor despite the visits he had made, so he opted to just run outside and up the side of the building, taking care not to unduly damage the old brick on his way up. Glancing at the woman he held in his arms, he found her looking back at him, her blinks slow but still perceptible despite the speed at which he was running. That was somewhat curious to Barry – one day, he would have to ask her or Clark how much they could perceive of him when he was running.

Coming to a stop on the flat rooftop of Wayne Manor, he let Kara down and helped her stand with one of her arms around his shoulders.

“You can let go,” Kara said, and Barry reluctantly did so.

Without him helping her stand, she stumbled slightly on her injured leg, but she quickly straightened back out, and with clenched fists, she slowly rose into the air. Her feet dangled around the height of Barry’s chest, her back arched toward him as she faced the Sun. She seemed to bathe in its warmth, her arms slightly spread open as her cape fluttered in the breeze.

Barry could perceive the skin of her thigh slowly crawling back to where it had been, healing at an accelerated pace in the nourishment of the Sun, as fibers rewove themselves to rebuild muscle and tissue. It was much slower than his own healing factor, which usually acted rapidly in the Speed Force, but he supposed for nigh-invulnerable Kryptonians, it was rare enough that it would ever apply at all.

Finally, Kara seemed to think that she had healed enough because she descended to let the soles of her red boots touch the gravel rooftop of the Manor. With both hands, she pushed back both sides of her hair until they were largely tucked behind her ears and wiped off what sweat remained on her brow with the back of one hand.

“You okay?” Barry questioned.

“Mmhm,” she hummed in response. “I am still feeling a little uneasy and shaky, but I am better now than when we first arrived.” She eyed him. “Did you have much experience with kryptonite?”

“Not really,” he admitted. “Not more than I’ve told you and others before. By the time I was brought into the fold, which was like years after Superman first showed up, there wasn’t much kryptonite floating around to begin with. Luthor was in prison, and what amount he had found had already been used up at that point.” He frowned. “I’ve never even heard of kryptonite bullets. At least, Superman never got shot by one. I think.”

Kara turned away. “Perhaps there is more kryptonite in this world, then, if it is being produced into weaponry already. It has only been a little over half a year since Zod.”

That was a troubling thought to Barry. More deviations, more uncertainty. He didn’t respond.

“I see you two have found the roof,” a gruff but familiar voice called out behind Barry. He turned to see an old man, leaning heavily on a cane, hovering in the doorframe of the rooftop entrance with his face still partially obscured by shadow. “Sunbathing at midday?”

“Huh?” Barry blinked, completely lost. He looked over to Kara, but the Kryptonian seemed stunned at whatever she could see in the shadows that he could not.

The figure chuckled. “It was more rhetorical than anything.”

“I’m sorry, but do I know you?” Barry asked as the figure shuffled out into the sunlight.

His eyes widened as he saw the visage of Bruce Wayne – not the one he had fought with at Pozharnov or even the one that he had formed a new Justice League with. No, this Bruce Wayne was the old man that had been fated to die, the one that he and the younger Barry had failed to save alongside Kara. The Bruce from the doomed timeline, who had retired and then come back in one last gasp of heroism.

“No reason to,” ‘Bruce’ remarked. He extended his hand. “Thomas Wayne. I used to own the place. I figured you two know my son.”

Barry hesitantly took the hand and shook it, but he turned to look at Kara, who had an equally stunned expression on her face. Turning back to the now-christened Thomas, he found the older man studying Barry’s face quite intently.

“Something tells me that this is not the first time you’ve seen this ugly, old mug of mine,” Thomas remarked. He gestured. “Come. Follow me. I think we have a lot to talk about.”

Barry and Kara acquiesced, the two superheroes uncharacteristically shuffling behind the old man, only occasionally looking at each other or the at the person they followed. Turns, corners, and stairs later, they found themselves scooting into a small library—of which the Manor seemed to have an absurd amount—that was composed of four individual recliners, all facing each other, and tall bookshelves three of the walls.

“Sit,” Thomas stated as he made his way over to a small table that had a decanter and glasses. Pouring himself a drink, he rejoined them, sitting on Barry’s left while Kara sat on Barry’s right. Thomas took a sip, sighed, and leaned back into the soft leather.

“So,” Thomas began, casually swirling his glass before looking up at the younger duo, “what about this old face has got you two so shocked?”

Barry thought about how to respond. To him, Thomas’ words clearly implied things that he probably shouldn’t have known. The multiversal mechanics of that seemed like too much to consider. But on the other hand, placing it close to the chest with perhaps the greatest secret he held seemed prudent, to say the least.

“I have seen it before,” Kara spoke up, preempting Barry entirely. He turned to listen to her. “On the face of another man,” she continued, “one who did not answer to the name of Thomas Wayne.”

Thomas’ response was to take another drink from his glass, exhaling as he swallowed the liquor. “I see,” he replied, his tone even and indiscernible. “And this… other man, what was he to you?”

“A hero,” Barry whispered, “fated to die in a world that couldn’t be saved.”

Thomas seemed to examine Barry for a few moments, his eyes flicking across Barry’s features and face.

“In another lifetime, I knew a Barry Allen,” Thomas stated. “In fact, I knew two Barry Allens. You’re not either of them.”

“Well, yes,” Barry responded, before blinking a few times and shrugging. “And no. I am one of those Barrys—the older one—but I’m also not him.” He gestured at his face. “Obviously.” He leaned forward, hands clasped together. “Every day I wake up, I feel a little less like the Barry Allen I was. I’m—I’m starting to forget things, like what mine — or his — coworkers’ faces looked like, or who his fifth grade teacher was. Little things. And every morning I see myself in the mirror, I get a little more used to this face than the one I had.” He frowned. “If that face even belonged to me. I don’t understand.”

Thomas chuckled — a strange sound from the man, given his face. “You’re telling me. One lifetime, I was Bruce Wayne, the Batman of Gotham. The next, I’m my own father, in a sense.” He drained the rest of his glass in a single gulp. “That mindfucked me for a good two or three months, and I’m not sure that I’ll ever get over it either.”

“I cannot relate,” Kara said simply. “While I did have memory conflict between my selves, their fundamental natures were so similar that I am, for lack of a better way to describe it, me. This, I have accepted.”

“Lucky you,” Thomas muttered. He put aside his empty glass and turned to Barry. “I assume these shenanigans are something you did. You and that Speed Force lightning stuff.”

“It must’ve been,” Barry affirmed. “But I can’t remember what led to this. All we know so far is that the three of us and Zod all crossed over in a some fashion.”

“That Zod’s here and was the one to attack Metropolis?” Thomas sighed. “I might need another drink.”

“Zod has been dealt with,” Kara commented. “For now, at least. He is not an immediate threat.”

“Oh, good,” Thomas sarcastically replied. “That’s one less genocidal Kryptonian warlord with multiversal memories to deal with. And you two are sure that no one else came along for the ride?”

“We can’t confirm that,” Barry admitted. “Especially not with discovering you. I already know that there are others that share the same faces I remembered from my original world but without the memories.” Barry held his head in his hands. “If only I could remember. That would explain everything.”

“Could have, would have,” Thomas remarked. He retrieved his cane, which he had left propped beside the armrest of his chair. “That doesn’t matter. Not really. What does matter is what we do about it now. For better or for worse, we have a new lease on life — whatever this life counts for, and whoever we are to begin with.” He laughed. “I’m not even Batman anymore. My memories, my losses, they’re not even mine anymore. I remember my parents dying at ripe old ages, not being gunned down by a freakish thug. Who does that leave me as?”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” Barry apologized. That was something he had done a good bit in the new world, but at the end of the day, he was the root cause. Without him, no one would’ve had crossed lives, period.

“Save it,” Thomas declared. He stood up, leaning on his cane. “It is what it is. All we get is all we take. Live with it, prosper with it, and accept it for what it is and not what it could, should, or would have been otherwise.” He shuffled past Barry and Kara, leaving them alone in the library.

“He is more grumpy than he used to be,” Kara finally commented, breaking the silence.

Barry sighed. “Yeah. And considering how he was then, that’s really saying something.”

She eyed him for a moment. “This is not how I wanted the day to go, I will say.”

“You and me, both.” Barry flexed his shoulders back to stretch. “Not a great first date, I won’t lie, even by superhero standards. Make it up to you on the second?”

The corner of her mouth curled upward. “I would like that.”

“Mister Luthor will see you now,” the short-haired blonde said, still sitting behind her rather expansive desk. Mercy, if he remembered her name correctly.

Bruce smiled casually—professional enough to be appropriate in the context, but flirty enough to take the edge off of any woman within ten years of his age in either direction—and stood out, straightening out his tie and buttoning the jacket of the simpler, cheaper suit he had opted for. There was no need to try and flex over Lex Luthor of all people; it was an arms race that Bruce had no intention of competing in. That in and of itself was the only battle of self-confidence that he needed to wage against the other billionaire magnate.

“Thanks, Mercy,” Bruce nodded to the secretary as she stood up to push open one of the heavy double doors into Luthor’s office.

“The pleasure’s all mine and Mister Luthor’s,” she responded with her own smile. Flirty enough to make a less experienced man think they might have a shot, perhaps. Bruce figured that was at least part of why Luthor had hired the woman. Nothing Luthor did was by accident – not the hiring of a secretary for her looks, the manufacture of kryptonite bullets that could wound the likes of Kara Zor-El, or the downing of a government plane carrying some of the highest-ranking politicians in the country.

“Bruce,” Lex Luthor Senior greeted as Bruce strode into the office. Behind him, he heard the soft click of the office’s door closing.

It had been a number of years since his last visit, but it looked much the same; an extensive bookshelf, ranging from reference texts to more exotic pieces, lined one wall, with the other serving as canvas space for artwork and hosting an extensive liquor cabinet. A number of plush leather seats ringed that furniture piece, though Bruce seriously doubted that anyone had actually sat in them given their pristine, unwrinkled condition. Perhaps Luthor replaced them every time they were used — that was something that Bruce wouldn’t be surprised at from the other man. The center piece and focal point of the office was the heavy wooden desk. An elegant and intricate design, it curved concavely toward the floor-to-ceiling single-pane window, which itself spanned the entire length of the opposite side of the room from the door.

And behind the desk was Luthor. He was now standing, his office chair slightly pushed back as he buttoned the top of his two jacket buttons. As Bruce had suspected, Luthor had him severely outclassed in terms of dress, though the framing could undoubtedly be flipped in a way that would irk the older man.

“Lex,” Bruce nodded in return.

“Please, sit,” Luthor gestured at one of the leather seats in question. “Can I get you something to drink? I have some sixteen-year-old Stagg, if you’re so interested. Kentucky mash is, after all, the secret to good health.”

Bruce sat in that pristine, almost hard leather chair as he unbuttoned his blazer and smiled lazily as he leaned back to the crinkling of the material beneath him. “Oh, you know me, Lex. I might drink you out of your collection, but I’ll only do it at night.”

Luthor eyed him for a moment before chuckling in response and taking a seat opposite Bruce. “I’ll be sure to send you a few bottles then, along with an invitation to our next mixer.”

“I’ll be on the lookout for that.” Bruce paused for a second. “So, what’s the occasion, Lex? I don’t fly out to Metropolis all that often, and I visit LexCorp even less than that.”

Luthor pursed his lips. “I’ll cut to the chase, Bruce. I want WayneTech to partner with LexCorp on the investigation of Air Force Two.”

“Aren’t the feds handling that?”

Crossing his fingers, Luthor leaned back into his own seat. “I’ve… persuaded the authorities to hand over the primary technical analysis to LexCorp. The plane, after all, was manufactured and maintained by us. It also has proprietary technology that wouldn’t be appropriate for third parties to have access to – even the government.”

Bruce resisted the urge to stroke his chin in thought. “Why WayneTech? What do we bring to the table that LexCorp can’t by itself?”

“There’s the saying, ‘measure twice, cut once.’ I’d like to think of this potential partnership as measuring twice. A second eye – external to LexCorp’s own internal review – would be very helpful. And having our top competitor in the industry – even if they are second – would bring additional confidence into the analysis.”

The man who had, in all likelihood, downed the plane asking for a second look? Bruce couldn’t help but be suspicious. Either Luthor was playing an insane game, or there was something that he was missing entirely.

“To me, Lex, it sounds like you want WayneTech to shield LexCorp from public and federal scrutiny.”

Something changed in Luthor’s expression – almost inscrutably, but Bruce had looked at the man’s bald and smug mug long enough to see it. “That’s a crude way of putting it.”

“But it’s true.” Bruce leaned forward. “I think it goes without saying that I’m not going to let my family name or company be used to run interference for you.”

Luthor shook his head. “That’s not what I want, Bruce. What I want is transparency. Trust. Real results so that the people know that I am a trustworthy person that is worthy of being a public servant.”

There it was.

“You’re more concerned with your appearance and political career than anything else,” Bruce scoffed.

“My legacy,” Luthor contended, a slight scowl beginning to form on the man’s face. “I don’t know what it is you think I did, but in this regard, I have always conducted myself with the utmost decorum.” Bruce raised an eyebrow, which Luthor noticed. “Even if you disagree with my methods and tactics, you can’t deny that I have never been implicated in anything that crosses the line.”

Which was true, Bruce had to begrudgingly admit to himself, but somewhat meaningless in the context of Luthor’s vast resources and immense power and influence – both directly and indirectly. Still, as he had already noted earlier, there was something entirely off about the whole affair. Much as he was loathe to admit it, Luthor was right; downing a plane so publicly was not his style, and his asking Bruce for their meeting reeked far more of desperation than of cold calculation.

It bore more looking into, and not just from billionaire Bruce Wayne.

“Even if I did agree with you,” Bruce finally said, “and I’m not saying that I do, but if I did, why should I do this? What do I get out of this?”

“Cooperative access to LexCorp research and development for our latest widebody,” Luthor responded almost immediately. Bruce’s ears perked up a little at that. “I know that Wayne Aerospace has been falling behind recently – the Polaris series just hasn’t been the performer you thought it would be. I’m willing to halve my profits here and partner on our latest and greatest if you’ll partner with me on this investigation. My R&D is no doubt something you’d be interested in, with all the things they’re up to.”

That was, indeed, a very intriguing offer. It was widely known at this point that Wayne Aerospace had stumbled in the passenger airliner market, and while it wasn’t a fatal blow to the subsidiary by any means, it was an embarrassing misstep from a division with as storied a legacy as it had. Its position as market leader was at jeopardy, and it could very easily fall behind for an entire decade because of that. A joint venture on LexCorp’s newest airliner would secure Aerospace’s place in the industry for years to come as it retooled and brought to market a new and competitive design.

Still, with Luthor posing such an attractive offer, it could very well just be a nice piece of bait on the end of a vicious hook. Bruce couldn’t see said hypothetical hook, but he was almost certain it was there – even if it wasn’t a hook that Luthor himself intended to be there. Wayne Enterprises may have been something Bruce had inherited, but there was a reason that he had been considered one of the greater stewards in the company’s history. He had a sixth sense about these sorts of things, though it didn’t feel like he needed it in particular for this circumstance. The path forward was obvious to him.

“I’m afraid the answer is ‘no,’ Lex. Much as I appreciate the offer, I can’t risk my company’s name and reputation for this. LexCorp will have to conduct the analysis alone, or at the very least, without WayneTech.”

Luthor blinked a few times in rapid succession before sighing and standing up. Bruce mirrored him. Despite Luthor’s magnanimous disposition, Bruce was undoubtedly sure that the other man was far more furious internally than he let on.

A consummate politician-in-training, indeed.

“Then it looks like we have nothing left to talk about today, Bruce.” Luthor extended a hand.

Bruce took it, giving it a firm shake. “Thanks for the invite.”

Luthor nodded slightly but didn’t respond. Bruce turned and began to walk toward the door, but paused as he thought of something and turned his head half toward Luthor.

“I’m sure you’ve heard all of the rumors – even the worst ones. Those are the ones that will reverberate in the public long after the government’s scrutiny has passed.” Bruce turned back toward the door but continued to speak. “If you want to clear your name in the court of public opinion, clean your own house first.”

He didn’t bother looking back as the office door shut behind him, leaving Lex Luthor to stew in his own thoughts.

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

Alexander Luthor Senior grimaced as he nursed a glass of bourbon in one hand. It was almost cliched how dark and stormy a night it was in Metropolis, the rain splattering against his office’s expansive window as flashes of lightning flickered to illuminate the dimly lit room. He could barely hear the thunder, though – the soundproofing he had installed when the building was first constructed ensured it was little more than a minor thump, no matter how close the lightning strike was.

This was one of those nights where he wouldn’t have minded some more ambient noise, if only to drown out the thoughts running through his head courtesy of the words on the page he was reading. With a scoff, he tossed his tablet onto his desk, caring little for whether it dented the metal chassis of the former or scratched the wooden surface of the latter. Draining the last of his bourbon, he all but slammed the glass on the desk.

He couldn’t even doubt the veracity of the reports. At this point in his career, Luthor knew his sources were very good at what they did. The evidence that had been laid out before him was undeniable in its thoroughness and breadth. Too many connections to be coincidences. Too many defeats to be without enemy action.

And he supposed it was only his luck – the infamous Luthor Luck, as the media had coined it for his own father – that the enemy action in question was none other than his one and only son.

Mercy was already out of the office for the day given that it was past midnight, and while he could easily call her to him now, he opted for a less personal touch.

“Otis,” Luthor calmly said out loud, a button pressed on his office phone. “Collect my son and bring him to the mansion library.”

“Yes, sir,” his henchman curtly replied.

Luthor took his finger off of his office phone, leaned back, and glanced at his liquor cabinet. Surely another glass wouldn’t hurt.

“I, uh, call this meeting of the Justice League to order,” Superman said, grimacing as he did so. The Kryptonian glanced down at Lois Lane, who sat to his right side. “Is this really necessary?”

Lois shrugged. “Some decorum is probably better than none. Especially if this is going to work out long-term.”

“Right,” Superman blearily replied, rubbing his eyes. “Procedure and all.”

For his part, Barry watched the other members of the Justice League – Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, a holographic projection of Aquaman from the ocean depths, and Supergirl – along with Lois seated around the round table in the warehouse that had become the headquarters of their group. Like the Justice League of his memories, this was the part of the job he hated the most. Every kid always thought that being a hero meant going out there, fighting bad guys, and saving the day. In reality, it was a lot of sitting around and discussing things to make all of the other stuff happen.

Absentmindedly, he continued to snack on a family-sized bag of chips – his second of the day, despite it only being noon – without any regard for the calories he was taking in. It’d be burned off anyway.

“Batman, updates please.”

“Project Elysium continues on schedule,” Batman began, barely looking down at the small tablet he held in one hand. “I expect that our first tour could come as early as in the next week, if construction proceeds apace.”

“And what’s Elysium supposed to be?” Lantern asked. “You’ve both been playing coy about it for months now.”

“It’s a surprise,” Superman replied with an enigmatic smile.

Lois rolled her eyes as she looked at Lantern. “Don’t bother. I’ve been trying to get it out of him to no avail. They’re treating it like a state secret, so you’d have a better chance getting Luthor to donate his entire fortune to charity.”

“And where’s the funding for this coming from?” Aquaman spoke up in holographic form. “I sure hope that you’ve been frugal with your spending.”

“Our benefactor has been very generous,” Batman responded.

Barry resisted the urge to snort out loud.

“You mean yourself,” Aquaman flatly said.

“I will neither confirm nor deny that.”

“Alright, we’re getting a little off topic here,” Superman interjected. “Needless to say, this mystery will be over by this time next month at the latest, and maybe by this time next week if Bruce says it’s ready. Next on the agenda, please.”

Lois glanced down at the stack of papers in front of her. “The president is interested in hosting a fireside chat with some of the League. He prefers at least two, and for one of them to be Superman.”

Superman cupped his head in his hands. “Look, Hal, this one is definitely yours. Arthur’s in Atlantis, we can’t have Batman on there for obvious reasons, and Barry and Kara… well, no offense, but you guys just aren’t the best PR people we can put forward right now.”

“None taken,” Barry honestly agreed. The last thing he wanted to do was sit across from the leader of the free world for an hour while smiling for national or even international television.

“This is acceptable,” Kara nodded. “I… still need time to work on my understanding of humanity.”

Everyone’s eyes fell on the Green Lantern, who was quickly coming to the realization that he wasn’t going to be able to weasel his way out of it.

“Fuck me,” Hal groaned in annoyance.

“Fuck me!” she screamed under him.

Lex Luthor – that is, Lex Luthor the Second – grunted as he thrusted his hips forward. Sweat dripped from his brow. Despite the fitness he possessed enabled by his wealth and lifestyle, he felt the fatigue begin to set in as he copulated like his life depended on it.

Which, given who he was screwing so thoroughly in a very literal sense, was not all that far off the mark.

Mercy Graves, his father’s secretary, moaned in satisfaction as he himself came into her. Whether it was real or not from her end, however, was not something that he had ever been able to discern. Of course, his prowess in bed was good enough to satisfy the lay of the land as far as the nation’s hottest young starlets were concerned, but Mercy— well, she was just something else entirely. An ephemeral beauty that had burned herself into his mind from the moment he first laid eyes on her as a teenager. Suave coolness personified in a body that would even the top supermodels he had previously consorted with jealous with envy.

And with that all, a caring grace fit for a mother. She cupped his face with a hand as he fell on top of her, his being spent as he breathed deeply into the side of her neck.

“You’re amazing,” Lex panted. “Amazing.”

“I can say the same of you, Lex,” Mercy replied with a smile, drawing him to her in a deep, sensual kiss.

“Better than my father?”

She seemed to ruminate for a moment, as she always did in this little game of theirs. “I wouldn’t know,” she pouted deviously. “I’ve never bedded him, and I don’t think I’m into the whole ‘bald and middle-aged’ thing he’s got going on.”

“I’m better,” he stated, feeling his cock harden again. “I’m better.”

“I’ll bet so,” Mercy grinned. Her hand shot down to coax him back to fall mast – not that he needed any help on that matter with her lying under him as bare as the day she was born. “You’re the better one.”

A knock from the door came just as he was about to thrust into her in a renewed effort, and he roared in extreme irritation.

“What is it?” he spat out.

“Your father, sir,” his attendant responded from outside the heavy wooden door, her voice muffled. “He wants to see you.”

“It can wait!” He repositioned himself to line up their hips.

“He says it’s urgent and that you’re to head over immediately.”

Lex gritted his teeth, looking up as he hovered over Mercy’s nude form. She took him by the shoulders, causing him to look back down.

“It’s time,” she whispered. “Go. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Reluctantly, he slid off the bed and tugged on the fallen pair of slacks from the ground.

“Hope, get the helicopter ready,” he yelled out as Mercy slid out of the bed herself and began to redress.

“Sir, your father wants to meet you at the Estate. He’s sent a car for you, and it’s waiting out front.”

He looked back up at Mercy, who was somehow already close to being fully dressed as she pulled on her pumps. His concern must have been evident to her because her gaze softened as she strode across the hardwood floor, shoes click-clacking, toward him.

“It’ll be fine, Lex. I’ll always be with you. Don’t worry.”

And somehow, he believed it to be true.

“Are you okay?”

Kara looked up, fork still in hand. “Of course. Why would I not be?”

Barry shrugged. “Well, it’s just that you haven’t really touched your food. Don’t like the fish here?”

She looked back down at her plate, the white meat of the fish torn by the movements of her fork. “Oh, no, it is not that. It is good, this fish. It is just…” she trailed off, picking at the fish with little energy or enthusiasm. “I am not used to this.”

“This?” Barry asked, putting his own fork down. “What do you mean?”

She gestured around the crowded restaurant. He followed her gaze. First, it landed on a group of friends, seemingly laughing at a joke one of them had made over drinks and appetizers. Then, it was a family with two young kids, both boys trying to wolf their spaghetti and meatballs down like they were late to a meeting while their mother admonished them and their father struggled not to laugh. Finally, he saw an elderly couple sharing a single dish between them, alternating bites and drinking from the same glass of red wine.

“I have not come to understand humans as well as I would have liked,” Kara admitted, “despite my time in Smallville. There are things – intricacies, complexities – that I have yet to understand.”

Barry swallowed, not sure where the conversation was headed exactly. He glanced at his glass of water, the ice now beginning to melt as rivulets of moisture dripped down the sides in thin lines. “I… see.”

Kara pursed her lips. “I do not think you do, Barry. Because the truth is that I am not from this world. It is as alien to me as I am to it.”

“Well, yeah, I mean, that’s true from a technical point of view, but… but look. Clark’s basically as human as can be, so it’s something that can be worked on over time, right?” He reached out to take one of her hands in his own, a move that she reciprocated by clasping her other hand on top of his. “And I’ll be here for you every step of the way and whenever you need me to be.”

“Right,” she nodded with a nod and a slight, crooked smile.

That wasn’t entirely reassuring to Barry, but he still accepted it with a grin of his own.

Lex fidgeted in the back of the luxurious town car that was bringing him along familiar roads. He had spent much of his youth driving down these same roads himself, the top down with wind blowing past his ears and through his hair. There was usually a pair of aviators on his face and a pretty girl in the seat beside him – or on his lap.

The driver, separated by the divider, was less than forthcoming about the reason his father had wanted to see him on such short notice, and frankly, Lex didn’t care. He knew that it could only be about a few things anyway. What he cared more about was the fact that Mercy was no longer beside him.

I’ll always be with you.

Well, she wasn’t with him now. And now he was headed into the lion’s den alone.

The divider lowered, and the driver turned slightly. “We’re pulling up now, sir.”

Lex simply nodded as they passed the wrought iron gates that had stood there since his great-grandfather into the Luthor Estate proper. In reality, they had been on Luthor property for miles already, but the gated estate itself had stood for over a century since the Luthors had made their first fortune. It was the nexus of what would become their family’s empire.

A servant was already at the ready as the car came to a stop in front of the main house, and Lex was out just as the door was opened for him.

“Master Luthor is in the library,” the servant barely got out before Lex strode past him. Even without being told, the library – the crown jewel of Lex Senior’s collection – was the first place that he would’ve gone to anyway. The man was almost always there, pouring over ancient texts or reorganizing his vast collection of antiquities.

Perhaps it was no surprise, then, when Lex turned the corner in the main hall toward the library, that the doors were already open and he could see the man who called himself his father standing there, reading a volume of some undoubtedly old and dead scholar. That was the man’s true calling, he supposed, beyond cutthroat business, political powerplays, or parenting his son.

“You’re late,” Luthor Senior’s cold, deep voice cut through the air. He closed the book with a snap and replaced it on the shelf in front of him. “I expected promptness. Close the doors.”

Lex did as he was told, closing the heavy wooden doors that served as the entrance into the library. It was well-soundproofed, or so he had been told. Certainly, none of the servants or maids of the estate had ever commented on the screams he had made when his father had hit him as a child.

Luthor Senior strode over to his desk, uncorking a decanter of dark liquid that he proceeded to pour into his glass. Lex took the time to peer over some of his father’s newest acquisitions. While Luthor Senior was an avid collector, even he didn’t have enough time to seek out or find all of the items in the collection. Some of them were donations, others were found by people like Mercy or even Lex himself – he had contributed at least a handful of volumes to the vast library. His hand brushed over spines of dusty old books but stopped over an unfamiliar language. Gul’ron Dez Dire. He had no idea how to say that, much less what language it actually was – even if he was the one to contribute it to the Luthor collection.

It's an important book.

“Do you know why I’ve called you here today?”

Lex pulled himself away from the tomes. “I assume it’s to rant about the fact that your candidacy is dead. Or maybe just another lecture.”

Luthor Senior scoffed. “Ever so short-sighted.”

Lex felt that familiar anger – all too familiar at this point – rise in his heart. “Then tell me, father. Tell me why you want me here.”

“From time immemorial, humanity has fought amongst itself,” Luthor Senior noted. He took a drink. “Wars for resources, for land, for dominance. When we began to coalesce into greater systems of organizations, our wars became more ambitious and more devastating. When the Age of Exploration ended, the great powers of the world fought for their spheres of influence and imperial domains. When the two superpowers emerged at the end of the World Wars, it became a conflict for the soul of the entire world.”

Luthor Senior took a drink from his glass, breathing out slowly after he swallowed. The man’s eyes closed.

“Do you not understand where we are today, my son? After all this time, has nothing entered that head of yours? Today, we are not in a conflict for our spirit, but our very survival. Humanity is no longer the only player on the board. Now there are aliens that fly above us, mutants that swim below, and metahumans that run through the streets of our cities. Now, we know that we are not alone in this universe. And even after we secure our survival, all we will find ourselves in would be a fight for the supremacy of humanity throughout the stars.”

Even now, the man can’t help but self-fellate over his own sense of importance.

“Father—” Lex began, but he was cut off by a sharp look from his father.

“I did not raise you to be a dimwitted imbecile,” the elder Luthor snarled. “I raised you to be a successor to my legacy, to my empire – despite the nature of your birth.”

Lex flinched. His father rarely mentioned the fact that Lex had been a bastard born out of wedlock – something that the Luthor family took very seriously.

“And what I did not expect was betrayal.” Luthor Senior turned to face his son.

“I’ve betrayed no one,” Lex retorted.

“More lies,” Luthor Senior snarled. The older man threw a stack of papers in Lex’s direction.

Even without looking at them, Lex knew what they were. How could he not?

“Illicit mining in hotspots all over the globe. Illegal arms manufacture. You’ve got a rapid response team combing the country for some girl named Roth. That’s just the tip of the iceberg.” Luthor Senior took a drink. “How about what you did to the vice president’s plane?”

“And what was it that I did?”

“Don’t play coy with me, boy!” Luthor Senior all-but-yelled. “I know what you did. How you maneuvered shipments into the Metropolis hub for maintenance on the vice president’s plane. Tampered components. You killed the vice president of the United States.”

“No, father,” Lex responded. The other man looked taken aback. “I didn’t. You did. Your name is on every single one of these contracts. It’s on every single one of these manifests. All the media and public will know is that you signed off on this. If the dust ever clears enough for more inquiries to happen, you’ll have already been crucified in the court of public opinion.”

“What is this?” Luthor Senior finally said after a few moments of silent shock. “Is it blackmail? Is it the mere impotence of a son trying to fight his father as a man? Or are you just an idiot?”

He never knew when to quit, even when there wasn’t anything left to fight for.

“I don’t know, father. Perhaps you should look a little closer at yourself like the Department of Justice will be doing any day now.”

Luthor Senior sneered. “It’ll take more than this for the government to knock me down. Especially when I know that only Graves could’ve been the one who forged my signatures. She’ll get what’s coming to her.”

“Leave her out of this. Face it – I outplayed you.”

Luthor Senior snorted. “Don’t think I didn’t know about your little escapades with that whore of a secretary. I know you two have been fucking for years. I ignored it. But no more. No, this time the slut gets what she’s had coming to her for years, and then I’ll deal with you in the way I should’ve in the first place. I have given you every advantage that a man could have, yet you have squandered them in waste. Second place at every turn, coming in behind no matter what. Thinking more with your dick than with your brain.” Luthor turned away from his son and finished his bourbon. “Bruce Wayne would have been a more fitting son.”

A surge of uncontrollable anger, burning as hot as the Sun, seared through Lex’s veins, and suddenly he wasn’t quite in control of himself.

This was not a man that was worthy of his loyalty, his fealty. This was not a man who was fit to be his father. This was not a man who deserved to be anything.

His hand reached out for that rusted old kopis that his father always said had once belonged to Alexander the Great, and in the blink of an eye, he was standing behind his father, who had barely even turned around.

Do it.  

Alexander Luthor Senior grunted, a squelching sound coming out of his midsection. The glass in his hand fell to the ground and shattered in a dazzling display of crystal. His father’s eyes, brown against his own blue and wide with shock, flicked down to the gaping wound that was quickly turning red against the older man’s white dress shirt.

“What…” Luthor Senior spluttered out, more blood than air erupting from his mouth. Lex cradled his father to the floor, staring intently eye-to-eye.

“Rest easy, father. I will surpass you in every way.”

To Be Continued

Chapter Text

Sunlight squeezed through the battered blinds, striping the linoleum floor with dusty beams. That floor looked like it had hosted countless tired feet and enough dirt to make a hill but had never seen a mophead. Barry sat in a corner booth, aimlessly stirring a coffee that had turned cold long before it ever tasted good. Across from him, Kara picked at a plate of eggs, her gaze set on something distant—she might as well have been on another planet. All around them, the gentle clatter of plates and the low hum of murmured conversations formed a cozy soundtrack that made Barry feel, at least for a few minutes, like a regular guy instead of the Fastest Man Alive. The diner was the classic hole-in-the-wall you could find anywhere across the nation: walls decorated with sun-faded photos of local parades, a menu that would give most dieticians nightmares, and a vibe that gave you permission to forget your problems for a little while.

Up above the counter, a small TV played the morning news at barely audible volume—until a certain name snagged Barry’s attention: “Lex Luthor Senior… coma at Metropolis General…” The mention that Lex Luthor Junior would be stepping up in his father’s stead, commanding the vast LexCorp empire, made Barry’s grip tighten around his mug. He glanced at Kara to see if she’d heard. If she had, she sure didn’t show it.

“Kara?” he asked softly.

She blinked back to the present and offered a small, distracted smile. “Sorry, what’d you say?”

“Nothing,” he said, rubbing his neck and taking a small sip of his too-cold, too-bitter coffee.

She pushed her eggs around on her plate in response.

Barry finally put the mug of detestable bean juice down and reached across the table, letting his hand fall on hers. “You know you don’t have to deal with all this by yourself, right? We’re supposed to be in it together.”

For a moment, she almost stayed in that position, but then she withdrew, eyes flickering down to the table. “I know. It’s just… lately I’ve been wondering. About a lot of things. And I don’t have the answers yet.”

Nobody would call Barry a casanova, but he knew social cues and norms well enough to figure out where she was looking. It felt like a gut punch.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking the contemplative second and letting Barry fall back into a disassociated hero mode as he pulled the device out. Bruce Wayne’s name lit up the screen. Barry sighed before answering. 

“Barry,” came Bruce’s unmistakably grim voice. “I’m gathering everyone. Coordinates are on your phone. One hour.”

Kara watched him hang up. “Bruce?”

“Yeah,” Barry said, slipping the phone away. “He says it’s important.”

She dropped a few bills on the table—she always paid in cash, a habit Barry had never really asked about—and got to her feet. “Then let’s go.”

They stepped out into the chilly air. The city was wide awake, traffic honking, people rushing to wherever people rushed in the mornings. Normally, Barry found the bustle reassuring—proof that life went on and that other people were just doing their own thing too—but it hardly felt like anything when he could feel the looming shadow in his mind.

When they arrived at the rendezvous point, they found a fenced-off compound outside of Gotham. It looked mostly deserted—a tall chain-link fence and a battered sign proclaiming: “WARNING: Private Property of Wayne Enterprises.” But past all that, a sleek black shuttle stood waiting on the tarmac. The craft resembled a cross between a Gulfstream, a jet fighter, and the Space Shuttle; all smooth edges and tinted windows and probably costing the annual output of some city.

The rest of the team was already there. Clark was talking quietly with Diana near the shuttle’s open hatch. Hal paced in a circle, occasionally flashing bright green shapes into the air with his ring. Arthur leaned against the side of a portable hangar, twirling his trident in bored circles. And off to the side, Bruce stood with his arms folded, scanning the sky like he expected trouble to arrive at any second, and he raised an eyebrow when he saw them.

“Kara, Barry,” he greeted. “Glad you made it.”

“You gave us an hour,” Barry noted dryly. “Plenty of time.”

Bruce’s lips twitched in what might have been a hint of a smile—it was always hard to tell with him. “We’ve got something to discuss. Let’s board.”

They all filed into the shuttle, the interior humming with quiet energy. Banks of holographic displays lined the walls, and the seats looked luxurious. It felt part war room, part luxury airliner, and part “Justice League One” command center. Barry doubted the president had accommodations as nice, but Bruce was also richer and not nearly as constrained by the force of public approval.

Once everyone was strapped in, Bruce spoke. “We’ve had a rough first few months as a team. Global threats, alien invasions, political tensions—none of it easy. We need a better way to coordinate.”

He tapped a console, and a glowing hologram flickered above the center table: an orbital station with a wide disk base and tall, spire-like sections. It rotated slowly, revealing angled solar panels and windows. Barry leaned forward, eyebrows rising in fascination.

“This,” Bruce said, voice echoing in the hush, “is the Watchtower. A space station where we can monitor threats, respond quickly, and regroup when needed. Consider it a second headquarters… or maybe our first real headquarters, given how scattered we’ve been.”

Clark exchanged a glance with Diana. They both looked intrigued, but also cautious. “So we’re going to be in orbit?” Clark asked. “Keeping an eye on Earth from above?”

“That’s the plan,” Bruce confirmed. “We’ll maintain privacy and vantage. We’ll know what’s coming before it hits.”

Hal nodded. “Makes sense to me. There’s a lot we can’t see when we’re grounded. I’ve seen the Guardians on Oa do the same. Information is power. And it beats a warehouse on the docks by a country mile.”

Diana folded her arms. “I don’t know. Distance can be dangerous.”

Bruce inclined his head slightly, acknowledging her implied concern. “I’m aware. That’s why this station has direct comm relays to every major city and government liaison. It’s about efficiency, not separation. We’re not trying to lord over the world.”

Arthur, leaning back with his arms crossed, let out a small grunt of ambivalence. “We start floating around up there, and people will suspect we think we’re guardian angels. Or gods. Or something else. The ocean already has enough legends about watchers from the deep; humans get jittery when they think we’re out of reach.”

Clark took a deep breath. “We’ve always been about helping, not overseeing. If this Watchtower feels like, I don’t know, the Eye of Sauron, how do we make sure it’s a good thing for everyone and not a panopticon?”

Bruce’s expression hardened a fraction, though he kept his voice level. “We’ll handle public relations carefully. Right now, we have more pressing threats than a PR headache. If something bigger than anything we’ve dealt with comes knocking, I want us to be able to meet it head-on—preferably before it hits Earth’s atmosphere.”

They went back and forth, the team dissecting every pro and con. Barry listened, occasionally throwing in a comment or two to moderate; to be frank, he didn’t have much of an opinion on the whole shebang, and as a speedster whose shtick was running really fast, a space station was out of wheelhouse. Kara mostly stayed quiet, gazing at the rotating hologram of the station with an inscrutable look. The tension that had hovered between them at the diner seemed to have followed them here, overshadowed only by the larger group’s deliberations.

Finally, Bruce concluded the discussion, turning his attention to the cockpit. “We’ll be heading up in just a moment. Once you see the station in person, I think you’ll understand why I’ve put so much into it.”

The engines emitted a gentle hum, and Barry felt a push against his back as the shuttle taxied down the makeshift runway. Bruce had clearly spared no expense, because the ascent was as smooth as any airliner—no rattling, no ear-splitting roar, and barely the faintest perception of gravity pushing down, which was mind-boggling to Barry unless Bruce had enough money to pay off the laws of physics. Within minutes, they were cutting through the upper atmosphere, the sky turning a deep blue, then black.

Through small windows, Barry watched the Earth fall away in a breathtaking sight. The horizon curved, a bright glow of sunlight outlining the planet’s edge. Even with all the madness in the world, Earth looked so peaceful from up here.

The Watchtower loomed into view, orbiting high above the atmosphere like an artificial moon. It was bigger than Barry had expected, a shining ring of metal and glass. Docking arms extended from the sides, making it look vaguely like an industrial fortress. The design felt both alien and human, which made sense, given Bruce’s penchant for acquiring advanced tech and the Kryptonians leaving behind no small amount of detritus.

The shuttle slid into an open docking bay, guided by faintly glowing lights. A soft jolt told them they’d landed. Bruce led the way as the hatch hissed open. Barry stepped out and immediately felt the subtle difference in gravity—less than Earth’s, but stabilized by the station’s rotational design. Overhead, mechanical arms and scaffolding crisscrossed in neat arrays.

Hal let out a low whistle. “I’ve seen Oa and that was wild, but for human stuff? This is next-level, Bruce.”

Bruce simply nodded in acknowledgement, then motioned them to follow. They passed through wide corridors lined with sleek panels. Everything looked brand new and untouched by the chaos of superhero battles or the wear of time. Barry couldn’t help imagining how different this place would be after a year of emergencies, when it would be their base camp for crises no one else could handle. Maybe there were a bunch of Roombas somewhere he couldn’t see.

Eventually, they came to a sprawling command center with tiered stations and massive windows overlooking Earth itself. A long row of slanted glass rose from floor to ceiling, giving a near-panoramic view of the blue planet below. Holographic displays pulsed with data about satellite feeds, global communications, and early warning systems. Barry almost forgot to breathe, taking it all in.

“This is the nerve center,” Bruce explained. “From here, we can monitor crises across the globe. If we need a quick response, we have smaller shuttles docked in adjacent hangars for those of us that can’t fly.”

Diana ran a hand along one of the consoles, looking pensive. “This is amazing, Bruce. Truly. But we must tread carefully. Power like this invites suspicion.”

Clark stood at the window, arms folded. “It also invites self-suspicion. Sometimes we don’t realize how we change when we gain a strategic advantage.” The Man of Steel looked around. “And this is that kind of advantage. It won’t just be people that might start fearing. I doubt governments will like us any more for it either.”

Bruce looked at the both of them, nodding in a gesture that was almost a bow of respect. “I hear you. That’s why I want us all on the same page. We won’t abuse this. We’ll prove its worth.”

A round of cautious agreement passed through the group. Barry felt a flicker of admiration for Bruce’s dedication, but also a knot of concern. They were stepping onto a stage bigger than ever before. Mistakes would echo across the planet if they handled this incorrectly.

They talked protocols, schedules, and contingency plans for nearly an hour. Who would staff the Watchtower, how they’d handle emergencies, ways to keep the public from thinking the League was setting itself up as some global authority. The debate was calmer than the briefing on the shuttle—everyone understood the stakes.

During a pause in the discussion, Kara slipped away from the group, wandering to the largest window to gaze down at Earth. Barry followed, unsettled by the slump in her shoulders.

He joined her, crossing his arms as he stared at the curved horizon. “Penny for your thoughts?” he offered quietly.

She hesitated. “It’s beautiful, Barry. But seeing the world from up here… I realize how little I actually know about it. I come from another planet, you come from another timeline, and yet here we are, trying to keep all this safe. Sometimes I don’t even know if we’re doing the right thing.”

He let her words settle before responding. “It’s normal to doubt. We’ve both seen some strange stuff, and we’ve both lost a lot. That can make any decision feel huge.”

Kara nodded, then turned to face him, eyes reflecting the distant glow of Earthlight. “I’ve been thinking about leaving. Not forever,” she added quickly. “Just… stepping back to figure things out. Spend time on Earth without the constant pressure, or maybe explore places that I’ve never seen. I need to know who I am. Am I Kara Zor-El? Or maybe Kara Kent? Or just Supergirl, whoever that is.” She huffed, almost agitated. “I don’t know.”

His heart clenched. “Do you have a plan?” he asked, keeping his voice steady.

She gave a soft, uncertain laugh. “No real plan. That’s kind of the point. I might go back to Smallville—well, probably not—or Coast City, or another country or continent. Anywhere I can observe normal life. Maybe help quietly. I’m not running away from the League, but I can’t keep going on autopilot either. I would go insane otherwise.”

Barry wanted to argue, but he knew it wasn’t fair to. The two of them had been dancing around this for weeks, maybe longer. “I get it,” he said at last. “Honestly, I’m jealous. Running around all the time. Sometimes I forget that we’re allowed to slow down, to decide our own paths.”

She reached out and squeezed his hand, fingers warm but trembling slightly. “Thank you for understanding. I hate the idea of hurting you, but I don’t want to lie about needing space.”

He managed a lopsided, pained smile. “No regrets, right? We do what we have to do.”

She gazed at him, eyes full of conflicting emotions. “I’ll come back when I’m ready. And if you ever need me… well, I’ll be around.”

He nodded. “I appreciate it. I’ll miss you.”

They lingered for another moment, the hush of the station making everything feel dreamlike. Finally, Kara let go of his hand and left, and Barry was alone.

The day wore on, a blur of briefings and demonstrations of the Watchtower’s capabilities. Bruce showed them the living quarters—sterile metal hallways lined with compact, private rooms that each had a small window offering a spectacular view of Earth. Barry ended up in a room on the upper deck, one that faced the planet’s nightside. Darkness spread beneath him, dotted by clusters of city lights.

When evening—relative to Eastern Standard Time—rolled around, most of the League decided to remain aboard for at least a night to test systems. Clark and Diana had to fly back for some press obligations, but said they’d return sooner rather than later. Hal had a few things to check in on too, so he left briefly and planned to return within a day or so. Arthur seemed ambivalent about sleeping anywhere where a crack in the hull could kill him, but he agreed to test the station’s aquatic module once it was fully operational. That left Barry and Bruce as the only ones staying aboard; Kara had disappeared, still somewhere on the station but disconnected from everyone else.

They had a subdued dinner in the station’s mess hall—a sleek area with a bank of food dispensers that Bruce assured them were as close to gourmet as they could get this side of the stratosphere. They both ate quietly, each locked in their own thoughts.

Afterward, Barry ambled down a corridor lined with observation windows. The Earth glowed softly, half in shadow, half in light. It struck him how fragile it all looked from up here, how any big threat could appear and overshadow that shining globe in an instant. The knowledge made him uneasy.

He paused at a window that overlooked the side of the station, where a cluster of solar panels glinted. Something about the silent majesty of space always gave him a prickle of awe. He was used to motion—things flashing by at supersonic speeds—but space demanded stillness in its scale. He couldn’t outrun the vacuum, after all.

The corridors were nearly empty, lights dimmed to a nighttime setting. He passed only a couple of station tech drones—small, mobile robots that glided along the halls, checking for minor issues or repairs. Each one chirped politely as he went by, like they were saying hello.

Eventually, Barry found himself in the observation deck again. The planet below them had turned, revealing new continents illuminated by countless city lights. From so high up, the lines dividing nations disappeared, replaced by vast stretches of color and shadow. It reminded him of how petty some human conflicts could look on a planetary scale. Or how heartbreakingly significant they could feel at a personal level.

He leaned against the transparent panel, letting his forehead rest on the cool surface. Out there somewhere, people were living normal lives. Also out there, Lex Luthor Junior was likely gearing up to fill his father’s shoes. That could spell trouble if the younger Luthor was anything like his old man. And who knew what threats were brewing in the shadows. Meanwhile, the Justice League had a brand-new fortress in the sky. Barry wondered if they’d come to rely on it too much.

Footsteps behind him broke the silence. He turned to see Bruce coming down the corridor, hands tucked behind his back as though he was studying the station’s construction. The man never seemed to rest.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Bruce asked, his voice just above a whisper. In the hush of the station, it felt unusually gentle.

“Nightmare,” Barry admitted. “Figured I’d walk it off.”

Bruce nodded, stepping up to the viewport. For a moment, he just stared at Earth, face unreadable. Then he cleared his throat. “We all have them sometimes. This job… it leaves marks.”

Barry glanced at him, mildly surprised by the empathy. “You get nightmares too?”

A faint tilt of Bruce’s lips, a near-smile laced with regret. “I have for a very long time. My parents, my city, the people I couldn’t save. They don’t really stop, but you learn to keep going. That’s the job, right?”

Barry looked away, focusing on the curve of the planet. “I keep seeing… different timelines, different possibilities. It’s like the Speed Force is reminding me of everything that’s happened—or could happen. It’s hard to explain.”

Bruce’s gaze flickered over him. “Try me.”

Barry hadn’t expected an invitation to open up, but he decided to seize it. “When I was younger, I tried to fix something I never should have touched. Went back in time to save my mom. I broke the world. Then I fixed it as close to what it was before, but it wasn’t. I keep carrying that guilt with me. An entire world, Bruce. Gone.”

Bruce took a slow breath. “I see.” He said it in that measured way that suggested he maybe did see, more than he’d admit to anyone else.

Silence settled again, but it didn’t feel hostile. Barry appreciated that. For all Bruce’s calculating persona, he was still human. They stood side by side in front of the window, each lost in thoughts of mistakes that shaped them.

Eventually, Bruce reached into a pouch on his utility belt, pulling out a small data card. “If you want something to take your mind off things, I have more specs you could look at—plans for adding defense arrays and backup communications. I could use your input.”

Barry half-laughed. “You never stop, do you?”

Bruce shrugged, the closest he ever got to self-deprecation. “If I stop, I think too much. Work helps.”

Barry understood that better than anyone. “Sure. I’ll look it over.” He took the data card, turning it over in his hand. “Thanks.”

With that, Bruce nodded and walked off, disappearing down the corridor. Barry stared at the card, letting out a slow sigh. Maybe this was the reality he had to accept: a never-ending chain of responsibilities, always one crisis away from the next.

Morning came, or the station’s version of it, marked by the automatic lights brightening gradually. Barry blinked awake, found the data card near his pillow, and rubbed his eyes. A new day, even in space. He showered quickly—another Wayne invention that used minimal water and sonic pulses for cleaning—then dressed in a fresh uniform and made his way toward the command center, hoping coffee would be available somewhere on this station.

He found a small beverage station in the corner of the command center. The coffee was surprisingly decent. He took a cup, sipping and scanning the overhead displays. Earth remained stable, no immediate crises flagged in any major city. Usually, that was good news. But a quiet day often preceded something big in their line of work.

Shortly, Bruce entered with a tablet, reading off notes in a low monotone. Kara followed, hair slightly disheveled, as if she’d woken up not long before. Her eyes flicked to Barry, and she offered a small nod—a silent good morning without any added complications.

Bruce set the tablet on the central console. “We’ll be running a systems check on the station’s solar arrays. Diana and Clark said they’d come back by noon for final confirmations. After that, we can each figure out a schedule for time spent here versus on Earth.”

Kara cleared her throat. “I might head back down sooner. I’ve got… personal business to handle.” She glanced at Barry, her cheeks coloring faintly. “I’ll be in and out as needed, of course.”

Bruce simply nodded. “Do what you need to do. Just keep us updated.”

Barry hid his mild disappointment behind a sip of coffee. He was bracing himself for Kara’s departure—he didn’t want to make a scene or create awkwardness. He’d said he understood, and he meant it. Still, it stung.

They spent the next hour running the promised checks, ensuring the Watchtower’s systems were stable. Barry sprinted down a few corridors to test how well the artificial gravity handled extremes of speed. Hal would have gotten a kick out of it if he were here. Bruce tested the station’s external scanning devices, cycling them through mock scenarios.

Eventually, Clark and Diana arrived via a small WayneTech shuttle. So far, it was all smooth sailing and the global response had been more curious than anything else. They formalized a rotating schedule, ensuring someone from the League would always be on board, or at least on call for emergencies.

When all was set, Kara stepped forward. “I’m heading out,” she announced calmly, crossing her arms. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone, but it won’t be indefinite. I just need to… take some time.”

Clark lifted a concerned brow. “Is everything alright?”

She nodded. “Yeah, just personal matters. Don’t worry, you can reach me if something big happens.”

Diana offered a supportive smile. “We’ll be here if you need us.”

Kara’s gaze flicked to Barry for a moment. He returned a small, understanding smile. She mouthed a silent thank you before moving to the shuttle bay. Clark, looking puzzled, followed her out, presumably to ask for more details or perhaps just to see her off.

Diana, Bruce, and Barry stood there, the weight of Kara’s departure evident but unspoken. The Watchtower suddenly felt bigger, emptier. Barry exhaled, turning back to the planet below. One less person in their cosmic fortress. One more question mark in a life already full of them.

The rest of the morning passed in a haze of minor tasks. Barry struggled to concentrate. His mind kept drifting to Kara’s departure, to the station that now felt like a mountaintop from which the Earth seemed oddly small. He tried telling himself that if something truly cataclysmic happened, he’d be ready. After all, he’d outrun the worst before. But the creeping sense of dread in the back of his mind wouldn’t relent.

By midday, a calm hush fell over the station. Diana was reviewing structural readouts; Bruce was presumably in his private lab somewhere, tinkering. Barry decided he needed fresh air—an ironic thought, given he was in orbit—but the station at least had a botanical module in the planning stages. He found it at the far end of Level 2, not much more than an enclosed dome with some trays for plants. A few test sprouts were budding under artificial sunlight.

He walked through the half-finished garden, inhaling the faint scent of growing things. Even in this sterile environment, the green leaves felt like life. He brushed a finger over a small seedling, remembering the farmland of his youth, the smell of his mother’s kitchen. Grief and guilt swung through him, as they always did.

He closed his eyes, focusing on the quiet hum of station machinery. In that stillness, he reminded himself of what mattered: protecting people, building a life worth living, and learning to let others go when they needed their own path. He told himself that these choices—Kara’s or his own—didn’t have to be permanent endings. People left, but sometimes they also returned.

The beep of his communicator roused him. Bruce’s voice crackled. “Barry, we’re getting a call from Central City PD. They’re dealing with some unusual robberies—tech stolen from labs across the city. Might be connected to something bigger. You up for a run?”

Barry tapped the device. “On my way.”

He headed to the docking bay, fully aware that his so-called downtime was over. The world kept spinning, crises kept happening, and heroes kept answering calls. It was the life he’d chosen—or maybe it was the life that had chosen him. Either way, he was in it for the long haul.

He grabbed his suit, donned it in a blur of motion, and stepped into the station’s smaller shuttle. The ship hummed to life, ready to ferry him back down through the atmosphere. In minutes, he’d be in Central City, dealing with thieves who probably had no idea how complicated his life was otherwise. Maybe that was best—an "ordinary" super-speed chase was a relief.

As the shuttle’s engines powered up, Barry thought of Kara one last time, hoping she’d find what she was looking for. He thought of Bruce, lost in his own labyrinth of responsibilities. He thought of Diana, trying to keep them grounded. He thought of Clark, always mindful of the line between protector and overseer. Hal and Arthur, bringing a necessary chaos to the mix. And he thought of himself, the Flash, forever in motion, searching for a balance he might never fully achieve.

He took a breath, launched the shuttle from the Watchtower, and angled toward the bright swirl of clouds below. Earth beckoned, full of life and trouble. Above him, the station gleamed—a testament to their ambition, or maybe their hubris. Only time would tell.

For now, he focused on the job: keep running, keep helping. Nightmares and regrets could wait. The world needed its heroes, and Barry Allen still had a spark of hope left in him. If the days and weeks ahead brought bigger challenges—and he knew they would—he’d face them the only way he knew how: head-on, at high speed, and with his heart in the right place.

He wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring, or the day after that. But as he plunged back toward the planet’s welcoming skies, he made himself a quiet promise: no matter how twisted the timeline got, no matter how many cosmic threats loomed, he would not abandon the people who trusted him. Even if he couldn’t outrun his past, he could still race toward a better future—for himself, for Kara, for the League, and for everyone whose lives touched his own.

And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.

“What have you done?” the Anti-Flash cried out, cradling his mother’s fallen form, blood leaking out of the wound from her chest where the younger Barry had inadvertently stabbed her.

“What I needed to,” Barry replied, ignoring the pain in his own heart at the scene.

Everything was collapsing, the very reality before his eyes crumbling into dust. Beyond it, the Speed Force itself flashed in an angry array of colors, and Barry could see more and more worlds—more and more versions of the scene before them—falling apart at the seams.

So, Barry ran. That was what he knew how to do. That was what he could do. That was what he had to do if he wanted to fix everything.

He couldn’t save the other Bruce, he couldn’t save Kara, he couldn’t save his mother, and he couldn’t even save himself, but he could try to save the multiverse.

Barry concentrated, ignoring the distortions of realities around him as the firmament of the multiverse threatened to fall in on itself. One foot in front of the other, pushing forward, running beyond the inconsistencies in all of the continuities that existed and forcing them to make sense in the grander scheme of space-time.

The scenes flashing past him in the chronobowl that was coming together around his feet were not like what he had seen before—some scenes he could vaguely remember, and others were entirely new. An amalgam of worlds, the combination of which created something new and unlike that which had come before. He didn’t know where he was running or why, so all he could focus on was getting home—wherever that was in this entire, grand mess that he had created.

Then formed people. People he recognized, too. They latched onto him, floating out of the very nether of the Speed Force.

“Why do you want to stay… and fight to save this one?” Bruce asked. The older Batman came into being, his armor being stripped away to reveal the man beneath as he took his place on the chronobowl beside a younger man.

“I’ve got you,” Kara echoed out. She rose up, her cape fluttering in nonexistent wind as she took her place among heroes that he only partially recognized.

“This world must die,” Zod’s voice called out. The Kryptonian general stood firm, one arm missing, as he looked out into an alien horizon.

Older memories too, of fainter individuals from farther worlds.

Arthur, Victor—a whole bevy of individuals arose from the void, finding places in the chronobowl. Their voices were quieter, less distinct, as if not fully formed.

“Where are you going, Barry?” a voice—familiar, yet so angry—screamed. Barry half-turned to see a yellow form, red lightning streaking out into the cosmos, at the top of the chronobowl, running to get closer to Barry even as the stadium of memories continued to shift and enlarge the distance. “I’ll find you! You can’t run forever!”

He felt a wall in front of him, like an invisible barrier in time beyond which the chronobowl refused to move, and without warning, he felt himself flung out of the Speed Force—

Barry sat up in his bed, covered in sweat, and screamed as he came back into reality. There was no one to hear it. The room, excellently soundproofed and siloed, was dark, save for the faint glow of the Earth outside his window. His heart pounded in his chest, the terror of the dream still gripping his heart.

He buried his face in his hands, trying to steady his breathing, trying to remind himself that it was just a dream. Or to convince himself, more like. 

But he knew. He knew that somewhere in the damn multiverse, there was the shadow of a dead world still running after him.