Previously in Justice League…
The Justice League is no more. Chronos, by order of the mysterious Mr Uxas, has removed them and their history from the ‘Omega’ world. There was never a Superman; never a Batman; never a Wonder Woman.
Now, as the dwarf planet Ceres hurtles toward the Earth, humanity whispers its last. Nobody will save them. Oblivion is inevitable.
Executive Order
Part VI
By Miranda Sparks
Earth Omega:
Conventional wisdom dictates that the end times are filled to the brim with carnage. Not so, it turns out. Sure, there are some maniacs who can’t help themselves, making their final hours a misery. Most folk, however, either plunge into escapism – partying, sex, booze – or sit on the roof, watching the sky, waiting for it to happen.
“The whimper before the bang,” he called it, and Chronos knew. This wasn’t his first armageddon. It was the same on this Earth as it was on any other.
People as a whole had a particular way of staring into oblivion. No matter their culture, their background, or what time in history they were born, the stillness of the inevitable shook them to their foundations, threw them into the quietest of conflicts. Some would turn and run, but others would be lost in it. All were helpless.
Walker wandered like a ghost, inspecting the finer edges of his work. He moved through the lives of Lana Lang, who in her amended timeline married young and had a baby; Alfred Pennyworth, who moved back to England following the deaths of his childless friends, the Waynes; a revived Hippolyta, who along with the amazons welcomed an end to their stagnate immortality; Alex DeWitt, Iris Allen and many more. Once they were touched by the strange, by the wonderful. How odd it seemed that they should deem to blend back into the unremarkable.
No matter how many times Chronos stopped to observe, it was never as mundane as it deserved. What struck him most, however, were their eyes. All grey, no matter their color, as though they’d never looked upon a rainbow. The gloom was as much a part of them as anything. He’d seen those eyes before, on posters, worn by heroes in muted tones. Chronos spat. What a disgusting image, not to mention the taste. Too much gloss washed over the dirt instead of things of substance; things that shone!
It was by a whim that the assassin drew his sword, and clicking the chronal stopwatch attached it to the hilt.
“Screw it,” he said, and turned the dial.
“ACCESS SYSTEM,” said the sword. “EARTH OMEGA…”
There would be hell to pay later. Better than the hell he lived with.
Atop a building in a major US city:
Superman woke to the whispers of despair. People the world over, comforting one another, praying, crying. He looked to the sky and it all came flooding back – Chronos, Ceres… the Justice League! They stood at his side; all of them, and the memories of them. Batman, the Flash, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, Green Lantern, J’onn! Every one larger than life, but had somehow slipped from memory. Looking back it didn’t seem possible.
Even in the middle of the day, Ceres gleamed like a quarter in the sky. It was close now. No need for a telescope. Too big, and too fast to stop. It seemed the Justice League had returned just to see the end.
“There’s still hope,” Batman said, “but we have to move quickly.”
The Man of Steel grinned. If someone as grim and as stoic as ‘the Dark Knight’ could see a future in all of this, then maybe they stood a chance.
“Find Firestorm, Mr Terrific, and Hawkwoman,” Superman said. “Flash?”
“On it!”
The speedster vanished in a streak of red, kissing the horizon in the blink of an eye. A solid reminder that the impossible was just what they did.
With senses beyond those of his peers, Superman assessed the runaway dwarf planet. Forty million miles, give or take. Still a ways off by the measure of some, but on a cosmic scale entirely too close for comfort.
“Even at top speed, I’d never make it in time,” he said matter-of-factly. “Not before the gravity shift stirs chaos on Earth.”
“Uh, Supes?” Green Lantern smiled a shy smile. “Not to brag, but I’ve got an intergalactic subway token on my ring finger. If I can cross galaxies over hours, then we can make Ceres in no time at all.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” asked Wonder Woman, drawing closer to him.
The Martian Manhunter followed suit, and offered a hand to the Man of Steel. What a strange thing it was to be standing amongst equals, to not have to go it alone, to share the weight of the world on one’s shoulders.
Aquaman, however, stepped back. “Not much use in space, I’m afraid. But I do have friends in Atlantis who can help calm the tide.” A sensible plan, given the potential for destruction in oceanic shifts.
“I’ll coordinate from the ground,” Batman said.
Without a word they flew into action. Everyone had a place, and were committed to it. The whole world rested on their efforts.
Undisclosed Desert Hideout, Later:
Not since meeting the love of his life had Michael Holt been swept off his feet, and she’d done so largely as a joke. But when it was the Flash doing the carrying, it was somehow less than romantic. Impending doom didn’t help, either. He clung to the speedster’s neck with one arm, and huddled his T-spheres in the other. They were his children in a way, and he was just as protective as if they were made of flesh and blood.
The wind beat around the speed force barrier. Mr Terrific chuckled. “Usually I ask for dinner and drinks before this kind of treatment,” he said.
“How about popcorn and a movie?” quipped the Flash, bounding between cities.
They zoomed down a solemn desert highway faster than Michael could calculate. By the color of the sand they were in Nevada, or New Mexico – somewhere in that vicinity. The Flash turned off-road and moved between uneven clumps of grass. Seconds later he stopped at a cluster of rocks and descended the metal staircase in between.
“This is the place,” he said. “Gotta run. Places to go, people to save.” In a woosh of red, the Scarlet Speedster was gone.
Michael had little idea of why he was in the middle of the desert, but there must have been a good reason. Letting the T-spheres out of his grip, the shining silver orbs returned to their levitating state, and followed the hero down. He moved into a hollow space concealed from the world. ‘Spartan’ was the adjective best describing the reinforced pillars and computer terminals, but even without the trademark dressings there was no question to whom the burrow belonged.
“Welcome to Batcave-51,” said the Dark Knight, not looking away from the readouts.
This was the terror of Gotham City? Perhaps he was more intimidating in the dark, looming over criminals. His resources, however, more than made up for it.
With no time for pleasantries, Mr Terrific moved to a station. His cybernetic T-spheres took the initiative of interfacing with the supercomputer, not waiting for Batman’s silent consent. The function of the system was clear, with multiple data relays altering the scope of monitoring stations and satellites. Michael rattled away at the keyboard, filling in the blanks without need for instruction.
“How many Batcaves do you have?” he asked.
“One in every state and major city in the US,” Batman said. “I plan to have one on every continent by the end of the year.”
Michael smirked. Batman’s preparedness was a power in its own right.
“And they call Superman the boy scout.”
It didn’t take a genius to realise where those trajectories pointed, or maybe it did. Michael’s perceptions of average intellect had uncoupled long ago. What he’d yet to grasp was their purpose.
“What’s the plan here, Batman?”
The Dark Knight smirked, perhaps in spite of himself. “We’re putting on a show,” he said. “Biggest you’ve ever seen!”
“Excuse me?”
“Flash and Hawkwoman are doing their damndest to keep the peace on the ground,” he said. “But men like you and I have better means at our disposal. Instead of pacifying with our fists, we can turn every eye to the Heavens.”
The level of enthusiasm in Batman’s voice ran counter to the image of a figure so stern, yet there was no mistaking it.
“But… why?”
Batman sighed, as though it were the most obvious fact in the world, especially for its smartest man. “We give the people hope. It’s what we do,” he said.
Ceres flared on the monitor, like the eye of an angry god. A scientific mind could grasp its scale, but it wasn’t until that moment that primordial instinct reared its head. The dwarf planet showed no signs of slowing, dragging death with it. All that stood between them were a handful of heroes. Epic, to be certain, but not invincible. Yet the Dark Knight remained diligent in his task.
“These are not the end times, Michael – not while there’s a Justice League.”
Europe, Southern End of the North Sea, Doggerland:
“Thanks for coming at short notice. I know things are pretty desperate out there.”
Mera didn’t make a show of reverence outside of polite company. That didn’t change the fact that when he called, she was compelled to follow. That was just the way of things, whether Arthur sat well with it or not.
They came to a cavern deep in the underground, lost in a labyrinth of collapsed tunnels buried under sediment laid by the currents. Mera gasped at the algae caked pillars that filled the chasm with bioluminescence. More than that, they clung to the shape of ancient things; statues, pillars, the linings of former sea gardens. They concealed the shape of an age gone by, but never forgotten.
“This isn’t,” Mera gasped. “It… it can’t be!”
All doubt vanished when they entered the next hall, where the likeness of legends bore down with eyes of stone. Heroes, of course, but academics first and foremost, schooled in the nature of magic and mystery. Chief among them was the erstwhile king of Atlantis. The native born Atlantean almost daren’t speak his name, but Arthur Curry, being of surface stock, had no such qualms.
“Welcome to the tomb of Arion,” he said, as though the resting place of Atlantis’ greatest ruler wasn’t something to be awed by.
Mera rushed to Arthur’s side. “You… you know what this is, yes? It may not mean much to a surface dweller, but-”
He nodded.
“I didn’t find it on my own,” Arthur said. “Cuttlefish like it here. I followed them and here we are.”
Did he not hear himself? It was more than Mera could bear. She could feel it in the water, under every stone. Such power that was impossible to ignore! How, for thousands of years, could all of Atlantis’ explorers miss a place with so profound a presence? Only for an outsider to uncover it.
Mera shook herself to reason. “How long have you known about this place?”
Arthur bristled. “A year. Maybe more.”
“And so you bring me here, on the eve of the world’s destruction, to show me this hidden treasure. Why? For romance? Atlantis’ legacy is not some trifle you can use to woo-”
“We’re not here for the view,” Arthur said, “and the reason I kept it hidden was… well, you can feel it. The power! I didn’t know who I could trust with it.”
Mera stewed, somewhere between confusion and indignance. “Not even me?”
“Not even myself,” he admitted. “If I had my way, I’d forget this place ever existed. Even Arion could barely contain the power at his fingertips. What hope do I have? I’m just a guy.”
“A man,” Mera corrected. “More than that, a man who would be king!”
At least one person believed the hype. Arthur was glad it was her, at least.
“So why bring me here now, if not for the spectacle?”
Arthur plunged deeper into the structure, beckoning Mera to follow. In the dark, where even the keenest eyes struggled, was another carving of Arion. This one appeared to reach toward the surface, not to capture but rebuke the moon that hung above.
“The Atlanteans discovered the moon’s influence over the tide while homo sapiens were still banging sticks together,” he said. “It makes sense that someone like Arion would try to influence it right back, in case of disaster, or-”
“In case of disaster,” Mera told him. That was the end of it.
Arthur nodded.
“It’s not the moon, but Ceres is wreaking havoc on the Earth’s tides,” he said. “It’s chaos above and below the surface. The Justice League are in space, doing what they can. The rest of us are left to stem the damage.”
Perhaps she should have been insulted that a man so dear to her should only confide in her out of desperation, but circumstance left no room for emotion.
Mera grimaced. “Very well. We’ll use Arion’s power to quell the tide. Just this once. I’ll… I’ll even keep this location in confidence for as long as you deem it. But mark my words, Orin, I am very displeased.”
Great. She only called him ‘Orin’ in shared company, or alone when she was pissed. The world was worth the sacrifice of his good standing, but it stung all the same. Then Mera took his hand, and squeezed. Maybe she wasn’t that mad.
New York:
A wailing man, lost in anguish, with tears streaming down his cheeks. The torrent was so thick he couldn’t see until the headlights filled his vision. There was a screech of tires. Horns blared. Something grabbed him. Next he knew he was on the sidewalk, just as bewildered as the onlookers.
Chicago:
A drunk woman wanted to spend her final hours having a good time. The man she found wanted too good a time at her expense. She was coherent enough to scream. Suddenly she was at home, laid on the sofa, shoes off with a tall glass of water on the side table. She wanted to be alone now, and was glad she wouldn’t face a hangover.
Louisville:
A husband turned a rifle on his wife and family. They were afraid, but knew what had to be done. It was a mercy. Better they should go this way than in fire and destruction. None of it would matter tomorrow. The last shot is for him, but he doesn’t even get the first round off. A gust of wind later and the rifle is gone, along with every other potential weapon in the house.
Little did they realise, but each of these individuals were all touched by a miracle in human form. He jumped from cities at impossible speed – Washington, Toronto, Calgary, Detroit. He’s the fastest man alive, saving the world between ticks of the clock. That’s why they call him ‘The Flash’.
No need to pick a direction; wherever he went there was something about to happen. The whole world was teetering on the brink, and the fearful were meeting it half way. Stepping into oblivion was the only way they could reclaim agency, and people were tired. They just needed something; a reason to hold on just a little longer…
When it happened, it happened in Houston of all places – the penultimate disaster leading to the big one. The outrage of the disenfranchised, staring down the barrel of injustice with no resolution before doomsday, exploding into the street. Generations of the oppressed who’d swallowed any hope of justice had nothing left to lose. They marched and they chanted, determined to be heard in their final breaths. All they broke was the silence, but that was enough to stoke fear in those with power – and they would cling to that power until their dying breaths. Order and authority, even at the end of the world, side by side with the ghouls wearing masks of righteousness. It was a powder keg – more than a man with speed in his side could dismantle.
The Flash plucked cans of tear gas mid-flight and kicked them into the sewers; he caught the rubber bullets and stole their momentum; stripped the riot squad of their shields and batons, and made short work of the oversized assault weapons brandished by the civilian ‘cheer squad’. For the first time in thousands of miles, the Flash slowed.
“Will you guys take it down a notch?”
The answer was ‘no’, punctuated with the drawing of a sidearm. The gun fired a bullet that skimmed the Flash before he caught it. Even at close range, it was a lucky shot.
“What are you, some kind of moron?” He snatched the weapon from the officer’s hand and scowled. Funny, but even a guy with his level of power sparked little more than annoyance. How did Batman do it?
Another patrol rounded the corner, and more armored cars. They were less a police force and more an army, prepared for war, like this was the invasion they’d been waiting on. There were no doubt conflicts like this around the country – around the world! Under the mask Wally was just one man, and he could only save so many.
Just then an answer burst from the heavens. It struck the ground, not with the force of a rogue planet, but with a weight that shook every living creature to the bone. A collective gasp drank in the vision. Standing at the epicentre was an angel; not of compassion, but of fury. He gleaming golden wingspan parted the two sides. The mace she brandished with both hands made a statement of its own.
“Go to your homes,” she said. “Now.” Her tone was even, calm, and in no way lacking in threat. All were silent, save a dog barking in the distance.
The Flash gestured for folks to move. “Come on, folks! Nothing to see here! The Justice League has the situation well in hand! The world’s not ending today! Say hi to your Mom for me!”
And they did, as soon as the shock wore off. Even the riot squad eased back like the falling tide. Peace had returned to the community, for a while at least. The hawk and the speedster acknowledged each other with a nod, and went their separate ways. There was still a whole world of work ahead.
Twenty three point five million miles from Earth, and counting:
If you’d told Ronnie Raymond a week ago that doomsday was imminent, he would have rolled his eyes. Saying that he’d be standing shoulder to shoulder with the Justice League was laughable at best. But flying through space at unimaginable speed, sealed in a bubble generated by Green Lantern’s ring?
‘Believe it, babe,’ said his boyfriend from the realm of quantum uncertainty. In their combined state as Firestorm they shared every thought, no matter how mundane.
The heroes were silent, steeling themselves for the monumental task ahead. Superman, Wonder Woman, the Martian Manhunter – in their short careers they’d changed the landscape, like myths given life. Nobody could do what they did, and together they were unstoppable. So what was a kid like Ronnie doing there?
“You have a lot to offer, Firestorm,” said the Martian Manhunter. “And you are as qualified to be here as any of us.”
A smile cracked the alien’s otherwise dour features, offering a warmth that did more than simulate human assurance.
“Apologies,” J’onn said, casting his gaze back to the stars. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on your thoughts, but some cannot help but wash into my psychic periphery.”
Ronnie laughed. Maybe he was used to it, given his state. He considered the universe ahead; that vast, endless void made so much larger by the hard light vessel they traveled in. Ceres shone in the distance, brighter than it did on Earth, and expanded by the second.
“It’s just so big,” he thought aloud. “How do you grapple with something like that?”
“With everything we can muster,” said Wonder Woman.
“And a prayer for good measure,” added Superman.
Weird to think that these heroes – borderline gods – had their doubts, like they couldn’t just pluck the sun from the sky if they wanted.
‘That’s the power of myth,’ Jason told him. ‘Sometimes you forget they’re people just doing their best.’
As bad as it tasted, Ronnie mulled the thought. Even Walter Payton had to fight for his Superbowl ring. They didn’t just hand it to him! Why should the Justice League be any different?
‘Or Firestorm,’ said Jason without words.
In a flash of light, the dwarf planet raced by, faster than the heroes could follow. The green bubble turned, drawn by Green Lantern in a long arc through space. They followed, and in no time matched the speed of the object, moving by its side.
It was more than Ronnie could grasp. ‘Nine-hundred and eighty miles in diameter,’ they’d said, like it was nothing; like it wasn’t the size of Alaska and Texas combined, and then some! No way could they stop that thing, he thought, but Firestorm dare not say it out loud.
Superman flexed his shoulders, appearing resolute. “You all know the plan,” he said – the new plan, now that Mr Terrific’s world saving device had been spent. All they had left was their collected strength and skill.
The Man of Steel stepped out of the orb, and shot ahead of the projectile under his own power. His job was to stand in front of the planet and push, while the rest of them kept it from crumbling around his fingers. Green Lantern eased back, drawing his teammates into Ceres’ tail. Even from a distance, maybe a hundred miles, there was enough rock to fill their entire field of vision.
Without a word the Martian Manhunter wrapped around Wonder Woman, fashioning himself into a makeshift spacesuit. He’d breathe for her, fly for her, pull back so she could leverage her divine strength in space. They too stepped out of the bubble, and with their combined arms cast a blazing golden thread around the dwarf planet. It stretched for miles and miles, almost endlessly, snaking with a mind of its own until Ceres was bound utterly.
Firestorm blinked. “So, uh, how long is her lasso again?”
“As long as it needs to be,” Green Lantern said. “Dude. It’s a gift from the gods. What do you expect?”
In truth he didn’t know what to expect. This was his first time seeing the fantastic up close; at least something more fantastic than himself. Green Lantern veered toward the other side of the planet.
“Here’s where we part ways. You sure you got this?”
‘Our nuclear composition protects us from solar radiation, and there are enough particles around us to generate a short term personal atmosphere,’ Jason told him for the umpteenth time.
Ronnie almost choked on the lump in his throat. “Yep. Sure.”
Though nothing could make him ready for the drop into the void. Green Lantern was already on the horizon when he screamed, casting an emerald net around the dwarf planet by sheer force of will.
‘Quiet down! You’re using up all our air!’
Jason was still there, Ronnie realised. Jason loved him, and he loved Jason. He was an oasis in the desert, an island when lost at sea, and the voice of reason in a cold, unforgiving universe. By some miracle, Firestorm didn’t fly into space.
‘Actually, that’s centrifugal force,’ Jason said. Cue the lecture about kinetic energy keeping him apace with the cosmic projectile.
The plan was simple, in theory; Superman pushed, the others held it together, and Ronnie? His job was to ease the burden, as only Firestorm knew how. He stared down the face of the planet. A ‘dwarf’, supposedly.
“Hydrogen,” he reasoned aloud. “Easy, right? One proton, one electron.”
‘We’d be here all day,’ Jason said. ‘Try something heavier.’
Great. Pop quiz at the end of the world. The Justice League and humanity itself were counting on him! No pressure.
Firestorm flexed. “That thing’s made of carbon, right?
‘Atomic weight of six,’ Jason said.
Ronnie searched his memory; all the scrawlings on the board that barely made sense. “So we make water! Two hydrogen atoms, one oxygen, covalent bonds. Oxygen’s got a weight of eight…”
‘No time for sexy talk! Make that planet wet!’
“Phrasing!”
Firestorm threw his arms wide, beaming transmutation waves on the rock. It was as equal a physical task as it was a mental one, not only calling on his influence over matter but the knowledge to give it shape on a scale unseen by most. Every high school nightmare, every cry of science being ‘useless’ in the ‘real world’, came flying back to bite him in the butt. Thank the powers that be he wasn’t alone.
‘Babe!’ Jason called from the back of his mind. ‘Babe! Look!’
There are no weather reports in space, and even if there were nobody could have predicted rain. A torrent splashed the hero and flew outward into the cosmos. He slowed in time with Ceres, whose liberated mass was more manageable in the hands of the Justice League. Ronnie wouldn’t have believed if he hadn’t seen for himself, let alone that he was the one responsible.
“It-it’s working!”
‘Keep going!’ Jason pressed.
The less he thought about it, the easier it became, until the redistribution of electrons, protons and neutrons was second nature.
“New developments following the pirate broadcast dominating our television and computer screens; a live feed, believed to have originated from a hijacked military satellite, indicates a profound shift in the size and speed of the impending Ceres dwarf planet.
“Our news team are currently gathering experts to assess the situation, but the visible change of hue leads us to believe that Green Lantern and other members of the Justice League are involved, perhaps lending us hope of averting this disaster!
“Behind me you can hear cheering. People are falling to their knees, crying with joy. There’s a collective sigh washing over the world. All seven billion members of our human race huddling together, remembering to cherish all we very nearly lost. Family, friends, neighbors; and of course our beloved pets. Even cats and dogs seem to know we’ve been given a second lease on life, thanks in large part to our heroes.
“All this courtesy of a pirate news feed originating from a trojan virus situated in major computer servers, perhaps for months! Yet this act of mass data infiltration is cause for jubilation among many who feared not only for the end of our species and life on this planet, but the planet itself.
“We’ll bring you more as the story develops, and it will develop; today, tomorrow, and all the days following.”
Somewhere, somewhen:
Walker took his time moving down the hallway. Despite his abilities, he didn’t have much of it left. This was all he could do to draw it out. He’d been paid, and paid well to do a job, only to change his mind. Why? Not even he could determine what drove that particular whim. His employer wouldn’t accept a shrug. There was nothing special about Earth Omega, so why save it?
Mr Uxas stared at the eternal sunsets burning on every horizon. His office suddenly lacked the tall ceilings and windows to which Walker was accustomed, leaving nothing to shield them from the hot wind.
The boss’ words rolled like thunder. “My intentions were very clear, Mr Gabriel. Yet your actions fly in the face of your task.”
What would they say at his wake, Walker wondered. Would there be anyone to mourn him? He only ever spoke to a handful of people. His landlady, the guy next door who bummed his cigarettes.
Mr Uxas – who was not dressed in his usual tailored suit, but in outlandish and much more imposing attire – came down on him like a slow-moving avalanche. Eyes burned under cold skin with the intensity of a sun.
“You understand that these are not people. They are property,” he said. “My property. The intellectual property of [REDACTED] Media!” His voice rose like a tsunami, and with equal destructive power. Yet Walker Gabriel did not stir. If the waves took him, drowned him, then so be it.
“You can’t own an idea,” said the assassin.
Mr Uxas froze. “I beg your pardon.” Though it was a mere turn of phrase. He was never one to beg.
“You can conceive an idea,” Walker said, “but once it’s out, it’s out. You’ll spend the rest of your life trying to keep it in a cage, but it’s a fool’s errand. You can challenge it, you can pick it apart, but you can’t squash it, can you?”
His works stoked the fires in the executive’s eyes.
“I’ve made a career of doing just that,” he said.
Walker tisked. “And look at what you’ve done with it. Movies, TV, merchandise. Three hours of philosophical navel-gazing devoid of substance, from people who are embarrassed by heroes.” This, Walker knew, would be his death. That should have bothered him.
“You took a great idea and you watered it down for a buck,” he said. “But it outgrew you. Again, and again, and again. And it’ll keep on doing it, because it’s bigger than you. Hell, they aren’t even your idea. You just own the rights.”
So that’s why he did it. Walker chuckled. Who knew he was that kind of sentimental?
Mr Uxas did as Mr Uxas does. When an idea worked against him, he crushed it – not always with his boot. Death shot from his eyes, zig-zagging at right angles, emanating with a power running counter to creation. Chronos could have run, but what would be the point? Some things were inevitable. His life wasn’t a good one. Gabriel knew that. But it was fun while it lasted. And there were much worse fates than oblivion.
Happy Harbor, Rhode Island:
No words could encapsulate the joy that filled the room, nor to grasp the humility and camaraderie; for while each hero was capable in their own right of feats beyond reckoning, none could have accomplished their latest task alone. That was why the Justice League had formed in the first place – to tackle that which was even greater than their extraordinary selves. Yet it took more than seven great champions to overcome. Hawkwoman, Mr Terrific, and the two young men who constituted Firestorm, could also be credited for Earth’s survival. On that day, they stood on the shoulders of giants, as equals. There were a set number of seats at the Justice League’s conference table. Perhaps it was time to add more.
Wonder Woman stood on a chair and tapped her champagne glass. The room fell silent. Her smile shone with every pearl in her mouth. “A toast! To new friends, and new tomorrows. The future is promised to no one, but thanks to all of you here, we’ll all see another sunrise.”
Ronnie blushed, and hid in his boyfriend’s chest from the round of cheers. The accolades he was used to were on the football field, but this was too much! He regained his composure, for no other reason than to applaud the others who also deserved credit.
“Never thought we’d get to work alongside the Justice League,” Jason sighed. “I hope we can do it again someday.”
“Maybe sooner than you think,” said Superman.
The Flash zipped between the boys and threw his arms over their shoulders. “You didn’t think this was a one time deal, did you? Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am – here’s your consolation prize, y’all come back now, hear?”
Jason and Ronnie boggled at each other. What was that supposed to mean?
The Man of Steel shook his head. “What Flash is trying to say is that we’d love to keep you on as part of the team. Circumstance brought the first of us together, and when we needed more hands you were there. I can’t think of better candidates.”
“Same goes for you, Dr Holt,” said Wonder Woman. “And you, Hawkwoman.”
Mr Terrific stopped to set down his champagne glass. He’d seen this coming, of course – the world’s greatest intellect, especially one freed from ego traps and supposition, was as adept at recognising social patterns as much as any other.
“I’d be honored,” he said, clasping Wonder Woman’s hands and shaking them.
Hawkwoman merely nodded. No matter the age, her place was amongst champions, fighting for righteousness on the front lines. The honor of standing alongside this generation did not require words.
The cork popped on another bottle, which Green Lantern poured with the aid of an energy projected hand.
“Let’s give it up for the all new Justice League!”
It was a celebration hard earned, and one they would savor ‘til the next urgent event.
NEXT ISSUE: Still in its first year, the Justice League struggles to find it’s identity. Who are these heroes, and what is their intention for the world? This, in our next issue, “Loose Ends.”
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