Previously in Justice League…

They are Earth’s greatest heroes, united in a common goal against threats too large to face alone. Standing for truth, justice and freedom, they form the Justice League.

Or do they?

A visit from Chronos leaves our heroes in disarray when the Martian Manhunter is wiped from time. All that remains of him are the words ‘Justice League’ lingering in the minds of his former teammates.

Meanwhile, the dwarf planet One-Ceres is on a collision course with Earth, bringing destruction in its wake.

Executive Order

Part II

By Miranda Sparks

Stanford, California:

There wasn’t a soul on Earth who could intimidate the Man of Steel – not in any way that mattered. But those who thought so had never met the king of ‘Fair Play’ himself, the living peak of human intelligence, vitality and athleticism – Michael Holt, “Mr. Terrific”.

Officially this was Superman’s first meeting with the newly assigned regional director of S.T.A.R. Labs, though the two had encountered each other before in other lives. In place of Superman was Clark Kent, a mild mannered reporter, the man behind the ‘S’.

Mr. Terrific was still Dr. Holt, a genius on the verge of reinventing himself before the world.

He remembered it like it was yesterday. The scientist could barely contain himself, and fought to cry ‘eureka!’ for the assembled press. The excitement was palpable.

Clark was skeptical at first, perhaps jaded by the would-be despots whose intelligence fed a sense of entitlement – but Dr. Holt was on the level. His design of the Reflective Cortical Bypass promised not only to alter the study of neurophysiology, but herald a new era of medical science.

“Effectively the RCB creates a bridging ground – a ‘meta-psyche’ if you will – to better parse information between the conscious and subconscious functions of the brain,” he’d said. “This would allow technology to intervene in its function; to target and weaken selected memory centers linked to the amygdala, and to stimulate new pathways to the parietal lobe, which is linked to language rather than emotion.”

Over a three hour ‘briefing’ Dr. Holt laid out the potential for healing sufferers of post-traumatic stress and other neurological disorders, and how beneficial the process had been to his own healing following the death of his wife.

“Paula’s memory lives on. I never want to forget her,” he said. “But that memory need not be mired in sadness. With healing I’m able to remember her with joy in my heart – the joy she deserves. My hope is that the RCB will bring others to that place, and soothe the hard to reach wounds we all carry.”

It was hard to think ill of a person like that, one who was driven by the desire to see humanity at its best. Even if the inevitable result was… jarring.

Superman dropped from the air, and slowed to the ground with a gentle ‘woosh’. For most people, the sudden appearance of a man from the sky, especially one in outlandish red and blue, would have been worth a second look. But not for Lois Lane, for whom this happened every other day.

“What took you so long?”

“Cat stuck in a tree,” he said. “In Kuala Lumpur.”

He had to be teasing. Maybe he wasn’t.

“Ready to get this over with?” she said with a smirk. “Everybody’s dying to know how you’ll pull us out of this one.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Under ordinary circumstances, news of a dwarf planet hurtling toward the Earth would throw the population into a panic – rioting, looting, violence. But nothing was ordinary since Superman entered the picture.

If you believed the stories – and most people did – the famed ‘Man of Tomorrow’ was equal to any feat. Whether it was pulling innocents from oncoming traffic, raising entire continents from sinking faults, or throwing alien robots into the sun, there was nothing beyond his ability. There was no smarter investment for the hopes of mankind than him.

Reality be damned. Sometimes you don’t let the truth get in the way of a good story.

Lois knew better. She’d seen it first hand. Not only was there a laundry list of bad guys who could hurt the Man of Steel, but just as many had made him bleed. Every encounter came with the possibility that he wouldn’t come back.

Yet she remained a believer. He didn’t have to be perfect for her to believe, because he had the one quality that made any person – human or kryptonian – great.

Perseverance.

They walked side by side into the vast building. The branch of S.T.A.R Labs they entered was an immense geometric structure covered in mirrored windows. No sooner had Lois and Superman entered than they were faced with a mechanism standing the height of the first four levels. It was not unlike a spaceship, or how most people would imagine a spaceship to look on the inside.

Corridors stretched in even rows, making it simple to navigate. Elevators shot up and down, feeding minds into the system. It almost seemed like the workings of a brain writ large, with a steady stream of scientists moving throughout, reacting to ideas and generating new ones of their own.

“This is incredible,” Lois said.

Despite the wonders of his experience, Superman couldn’t disagree.

Dr. Holt’s – “Mr. Terrific’s” – station rested in the heart of the building. Straight ahead, where nobody could miss. A jacket with the words ‘FAIR PLAY’ scrawled in each arm hung in the doorway. Inside, he was hunched over his station, watched over by a trio of silver orbs.

One of the orbs turned, blipped with curiosity, and regarded their new guests. It scanned Superman and whistled. A coincidence, surely.

The scientist jumped to attention. “Superman!” he gasped. “And Ms. Lane! It’s a pleasure to meet you both!”

Mr. Terrific was younger than most people in his position, but the awe-struck enthusiasm with which he greeted them still seemed too adolescent for someone so accomplished. He was tall, just under Superman’s height, and more developed than any academic Lois had ever met. Yet for all of his attributes, there was nothing about him that was arrogant.

He was, in short, terrific.

Superman shook his hand, and couldn’t help but hear the words of his father, Jonathan Kent, back in the day. ‘There’s a lot of good in people, if that’s what they want. Some just need to see the path first. Not all of ‘em will find it, but so long as that good exists I’m not ready to give up on my fellow man. Because those that do make the world a worthwhile place to live.’ 

Were men like this the kind Pa talked about all those years ago?

“So, Mr. Terrific,” Lois said, always cutting to the point. “You have a plan to save the world.”

His smile stretched from ear to ear, as though there weren’t an otherworldly ball of death barreling their way. Mr. Terrific beckoned them to follow, and gestured toward a mannequin with the Man of Steel’s proportions. On its chest was a disc held by industrial straps, like some kind of sci-fi armor.

“This,” Mr. Terrific explained, “is an Extra-Dimensional Particle Quantifier.”

Lois grimaced. “Run that by me again. In English, please.”

He continued. “This device draws matter from a dimensionally adjacent proto-universe and, when fitted, will drastically increase Superman’s density until it’s on par with One-Ceres.”

“Okay,” she frowned. “Superman puts on a little weight. Then what?”

“I think I see what you’re getting at,” Superman said. “By increasing my mass, my body will generate its own gravitational field. In close enough proximity, the forces of attraction will allow me to pull Ceres off course.”

Mr. Terrific beamed. “Exactly!”

“Why does this work better than, say, Superman pushing the planet out of the way?”

“Because planets are fragile,” Superman said. “The exertion of brute strength would cause Ceres to flake apart.”

“That would be bad,” Lois said.

“Catastrophically bad,” Mr. Terrific agreed. “But I feel confident we can avert this crisis with minimal cosmic disaster. Now if you don’t mind me, Superman, we don’t have any time to waste.”

It had only been a few seconds, but Superman had already lost his train of thought.

“I’m sorry. Could you repeat that?”

Both Mr. Terrific and Ms. Lane eyed the hero quizzically. “I said we don’t have any time to waste. Are you alright?”

It should have been a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ response, but the more he thought about, the more he was wracked with confusion. Superman shook his head, as though to do so would knock the idle thought teetering on his consciousness.

“I’m fine,” he said, without the trademark confidence.

Through the haze swirling through his head, two words clawed their way to the forefront.

“Do the words ‘Justice League’ mean anything to you? To either of you?”

They’d didn’t, and why should they? They were just words, after all.

Perhaps it was best not to think about it. And yet, like Dostoevsky’s white bears, the thought persisted.

“Mr. Terrific,” Superman decided aloud. “Let’s save the world.”

Giza, Egypt:

Diana adjusted her hijab. Both the garment and its modesty were alien to her, but she did not complain. She was a guest in this place, and a lack of appreciation left her no room for judgement.

She would come, and go, and come again if justice called her back – but for now she had more pressing business.

Standing on the end of civilisation, she gazed over the arid sands, past the tombs and mirages, past the torrid history that passed the amazons by. What she sought stood apart from all else, but where she couldn’t say.

‘Giza,’ her sources told her, and not much else. But where in Giza?

Diana sipped at her water bottle, ignoring the plastic taste permeating most things in man’s world. Adventuring was thirsty work at the best of times. Venturing into the baked dunes of the desert was something else.

Around a nearby corner, a group of girls chattered in hushed tones. They were watching her. Perhaps they’d never seen so tall a woman before. They definitely couldn’t have recognised Wonder Woman in khaki slacks.

Diana smiled, and beckoned them close. The girls looked to each other, silently debating which one would approach this stranger. Perhaps they were right to be cautious, despite the safety of the amazon’s company.

Finally, under the pressure of her friends, the smallest and shyest of the lot skittered in her direction.

“As Salaam Alaikum,” Diana said – ‘peace be upon you’ – the only Arabic she spoke with any confidence.

“Wa Alaikum Salaam,” the girl replied – ‘and peace be upon you, too.’

She considered her words carefully, trying to be as exact in meaning as her limited grasp of the language allowed. It was only made more difficult by the scattered dialects native to each region, but somehow she made it work.

“I’m looking for a woman,” she said. “A bird.” The word ‘tayir’ seemed to mean different things wherever she went – not only bird, but aeroplane, ‘to fly’, or even curdled milk. It was difficult to keep track.

The girl’s face lit up. “You’re looking for her, aren’t you?”

Diana smiled. They had an understanding.

Perhaps she was too young to understand physical boundaries, but Diana was surprised when the child pulled her sunglasses down. Then she pointed to the sky, and the burning ball at the heart of the azure.

“Shayera’s perch rests in the eye of the sun,” the girl said. “Look away and you will never find it.”

It had to be a mistranslation, but Diana had her doubts. When it came to the supernatural, cryptic and dangerous instructions were the norm. She’d come all this way. There’d be no sense in backing down now.

She thanked the girl, and rewarded her with sweets for her and her friends. They were the English kind, loaded with sugar, the kind savored by children the world over. These girls seemed young enough to appreciate them.

Diana cast her gaze skyward, and squinting through dark shades peered into the golden sun. Her eyes burned, overwhelmed by the rays, but she was rewarded for her endurance, and spied an unusual speck hidden in the open sky.

That had to be her.

What Diana did next would be the subject of gossip in the city for months to come. She leaped into a sprint, faster than a wild cat – faster than any car! – and in less than a minute cleared the distance leading to the pyramids. All the while her eyes were married to the sky, and the unassuming dot concealed by the light.

Then, with a power that rivaled heroes of legend, she vaulted from the ground, like a diver plunging upward into the fire.

Diana couldn’t fly independently, but she did not have to in order to reach her goal. The force of her momentum kept her going until the shadow of an inverted pyramid filled her vision. It hung in the air in defiance of all natural law, and did not appear ready to entertain her.

She cast her lasso which, with a will of its own, wrapped around the uncanny structure. The line became taut, and guided the amazon toward the upside down double-doors.

With a kick Diana flew into the chamber, and with guile sharpened under the most stringent of immortal teachers, landed in an alert crouch. At last, after days of searching, she had reached her goal.

“You could have just pinged me on Twitter,” said a voice.

She searched her surroundings, finding them to be anything but dull. Instead of the faded brick reminiscent of the great tombs, the walls of the inverted pyramid were encrusted with jewels of every hue and tint. Opals, rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and more! Many had been worked into ornately painted murals, telling the history of all that had been and all that was yet to come.

In all images one element persisted, both in male and female forms; the image of the hawk.

“I don’t have Twitter,” the amazon said.

Hawkwoman smirked. “Pity. The internet could use a dose of truth.”

The figure was not what Diana had expected, but it made sense. No warrior, no matter her prowess, wore her armor twenty four hours a day. Yet to see the dark skinned warrior dressed down in a spaghetti string top and yoga pants, and with her wings furled tight on her back, somehow left her wanting.

Her ‘perch’ also defied expectation. Much of the finery began and ended in the main chamber. The rest was like an upscale home with lamps, desks, sofa, and a wide screen plasma TV in the next room. It was as though the universe had slapped her in the face to remind Diana that a person lived here.

“My wifi signal is surprisingly strong,” she mused. “Feel free to use it. It’s unrestricted. No neighbors to piggyback, I suppose.”

“This isn’t a social call,” Diana said.

“No. I don’t imagine it is.”

The amazon tensed. “I’m looking for someone, or a group, calling themselves ‘the Justice League’.”

Hawkwoman cocked a brow. “Never heard of them.”

Diana pursed her lips. “Neither have I.”

“And yet…”

There it was – that frustrating skepticism to which Diana was becoming well accustomed. In man’s world there was much of her life too fantastic to be believed, and more than enough deceitful strangers to make one wary of words. Yet Diana was determined to press on, to bear out the truth by virtue of dignity.

“I know a divine message when I hear one,” she explained. “Back on Themyscira, I’d venture to one of the temples, seek out a priestess or oracle. But in man’s world they’re in short supply.”

Hawkwoman folded her arms and sauntered toward the kitchenette. “So instead you seek me. Why?” She opened the refrigerator. “Drink?”

Diana waved no thank you.

“I’ve heard the stories,” Diana said. “‘The Hawkmen and Hawkwomen of Giza’. Brave defenders, all. When one falls, another rises. Sometimes a man, sometimes a woman, all bearing a common, immortal prowess.

“There are those who believe that legends such as ‘Katar Hol’ and ‘Shayera Hol’ are the same person, reborn from one life to the next, over and again. That myth seems to have largely fallen out of favor, but I believe it’s possible.”

The winged woman frowned at her strawberry soda and scoffed. Then, unceremoniously, she downed the whole bottle, gulping every last drop, for no other reason than she could.

“Akhenaten and Tutankhamun called me ‘Shayera’,” she said. “Ramses the second called me ‘Katar’. Now I go by ‘Kendra Sanders’.”

Diana grinned. “A pleasure to meet you, Kendra Sanders.”

“And you, Wonder Woman.”

They braced arms like friends before battle. Familiarity tickled Diana’s senses. This had happened before. Maybe not her present company, but there was a coming together at some time, and she just couldn’t remember.

Hawkwoman checked to see if she was alright. She wasn’t.

“You were right to come to me,” she said, drawing Diana past the living area. “I don’t know if they’ll have the answers you seek, but my past and future selves share a wealth of knowledge beyond mortal understanding.”

They descended a staircase leading into a darkened chamber. As they moved further from the light, Diana realised that her comrade’s wings weren’t feathers at all, but metal finely tempered into their likeness. They illuminated their path with eerie incandescence, just far enough to see the next few steps.

There was no question they tread on sacred ground. Diana tasted the age of the place by the stillness of the air. It was older, perhaps, than her own people, the amazons – for not even on Themyscira was there so timeless a presence.

At the bottom there was splashing as their boots touched water.

“It’s shallow,” Kendra said. “You won’t fall.”

Diana hadn’t realized her anxiety until it was uttered aloud.

Kendra moved toward a solitary pillar of light, which reflected in the water seemed to stretch forever. There was no roof, and so the light appeared to have no source. It just went on for eternity, for as long as time itself.

“Wait here.”

Her presence seemed forbidden – more intimate than a lover’s touch – but Kendra had trusted her to this space, and Diana would honor it.

The woman opened her wings and stepped into the light. Both they and her brown skin drank the piercing rays which grew in intensity the longer she basked.

It was more than Diana’s eyes could handle. She’d already faced the sun, but this was more. What a great and terrible power was the spirit of the Hawk!

Kendra dropped to her knees, gasping. The light diminished, leaving her alone to crawl in the shallow pool.

Diana was immediately at her side, just as curious as she was concerned. She said nothing.

“They’re… they’re gone,” Hawkwoman said. “My past selves are in disarray, but the hawks of the future…”

She needn’t have said anything more. Diana lifted the woman to her feet, and steeled her own resolve. Something, or someone, was unraveling the tapestry of fate.

Happy Harbor, Rhode Island:

It is as true today as it has always been, that the first to sense a coming extinction are the oceans. The ebb and flow of waves move in tandem, not only with the pull of the moon, but the delicate order of the solar system, and the distribution of gravity throughout. By that metric, it was no surprise that while shore-dwellers sipped lattes and chattered like apes, the occupants of the sea were bracing for disaster.

Arthur Curry – the Aquman – shot through the ocean currents faster than aeroplanes tore through the sky. Water, for him, was better to move through in every conceivable way. Less fluid, ironically – more receptive to his movements, with traction enough allowing him to propel between continents.

The conversation was better, too. The food, not so much. A man can’t grill his dinner underwater without a volcanic vent, and those were few near the surface.

But it was not his hunger that drew the hero to land, nor the oncoming doom from the stars. Rather the Aquman was haunted by words with no origin, stuck in his throat with no clue how they got there.

Justice League.

Why they brought him here, to the Eastern shores of the North American continent, was anybody’s guess. Instinct, he supposed – a primal intuition passed on from aquatic ancestors who spawned all life on Earth. There were better uses of his time than parsing the nature of his senses.

He came upon a town – Happy Harbor. At a first glance it appeared an affordable vacation spot for families on a budget, with a community of trailers for hire behind the grass. In the near distance a ferris wheel and a roller coaster peered over the buildings. Nothing real fancy – just fancy enough.

But what really stood out was the mountain jutting out of the peninsula, barricading the beachfront from the northern shores. It stood conspicuously, an anomaly of nature, isolated from its kind.

Aquaman peeked out from the waves. Was this the thing to bring him here?

He ventured out of the brine, unencumbered by retreating waters that tripped most people. His chainmail, burned gold in the shade of the sunset, and caked with drying salt, continued to shimmer. It had been a while since last scrubbing his ‘uniform’, perhaps in defiance of Mera’s urging.

There was nothing remarkable about the mountain, at least at first glance. Arthur pushed away from the shore and searched for an underwater cave, but found nothing. Bedrock.

It didn’t make sense. The mental itch was worse than ever.

The answer struck him in the face, and pushed the tide asunder with a shrill, sonic wave.

Aquaman’s fall was dulled by the sand, but it did nothing for the agony splitting between his ears. Sound traveled far underwater, and made for sensitive hearing – a reality exploited by an unseen foe.

Before he could recover, a shining body of red chrome barreled down, fists flying at full speed. Aquman took the full force across his jaw – superhuman strength, like being hit with a wrecking ball. Again, and again. Blood trickled from his ears, and the warm, metallic taste filled his mouth.

Now he was pissed off.

The sonic wave eased, giving room for the waves to come crashing back. The big red powerhouse was determined to continue the beating, but he was out of his element now. He was under the surface, where Arthur ruled.

Fueled by rage, Aquaman grappled the metallic man and planted him in the ground, deeper than the sand and into stone. With a shot from his elbow, he forced air from the assailant’s lungs. He was strong – strong enough to go toe to toe – but only one of them could breath beneath the waves. All he had to do was hold long enough to choke the bastard out.

Something struck from behind, hard, like a dolphin fending off sharks. Another sucker punch, straight to the kidneys – enough that Arthur had to roll for cover.

He caught sight of a woman with a necklace made of animal teeth. She moved through the water like she was born to it. So that was their game – soften him up, then lead her to the kill.

Whoever they were, Aquaman would give them the fight of their life.

He charged through the shallows, arcing around the new foe. She was fast, but he was faster.

“You move like a fish,” he said, “but under the waves I’m- ARGH!”

She bit him! Like a shark. Not a lot of force behind it, but she didn’t need it. The serrated teeth did all the work. They cut the skin, but not with any depth. His chainmail was thick, and for exactly that reason.

Aquaman growled, and boxed the woman around the ears. She was stunned, just long enough snatch her up and launch her out of the ocean.

The metal man followed, thrown against the rocks.

With cuts and scrapes washed clean by salt water, Aquaman emerged from the brine, ready to start the battle anew. They thought they could come into his home and mess him up? He’d do the same in theirs.

There was someone else on the shore, along with the sonic meta and the others. He wore a full body suit, silver and sapphire, and carried what appeared to be a computerised sword.

His stance betrayed no concern for his safety. The hubris!

“The Justice League of Detroit,” he scoffed. “They were a joke the first time around. Thanks for proving my point.”

Justice League? 

“So this is the Justice League,” Aquaman said, though still it didn’t seem quite right. The same unknown something still pressed into his brain.

The stranger shrugged. “One of.”

“I don’t know what your business is,” the hero bellowed, “but mark my words! You will-”

The tech sword sat embedded in his shoulder, thrust down with a swiftness he didn’t realise. Its owner held it in place, utterly disinterested in what else the now former Aquaman had to say.

Electrons dissipated, leaving protons and neutrons to fall apart in a messy divorce. It was not the splitting of atoms as it was their quiet unmaking, and by proxy any evidence that the water hero ever existed.

Chronos shielded his weapon. The Justice League of Detroit faded into nothingness.

“Take away one piece, and the rest fall like dominos.”

NEXT ISSUE: One by one members of the League fall to Chronos’ blade. Who’s next on his deadly hit-list? This and more in part three of ‘Executive Order’!