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 they did, before Chronos altered the timeline. More than half of the Justice League – the Martian Manunter, Aquaman, the Flash, and Green Lantern – have been erased from history. Now Batman faces the time traveller on the roof of Arkham Asylum.

EXECUTIVE ORDER

Part IV

By Miranda Sparks

Don’t believe the romantics when they ascribe art to combat. There’s discipline, and there’s proficiency, but nothing beautiful about violence, or the way it’s enacted. Every part of it is ugly – the pride, the hate, the fear; the thirst to survive – whatever feeling explodes through words, or fists, or weapons. To throw down against your fellow man, even in the name of a just cause, is to give in to base instinct. Batman knew that, deep down. Even when fighting for his life. Even when it felt good. What he did was evil, though a necessary one. And it was an evil he embraced with the fervor of a zealot. Maybe that made him a sadist, or a masochist, or both. It didn’t make him holy. No matter. Justice doesn’t need a sugar coating.

He grappled the sword between the claws of his bracers, pitting brawn against the warrior wielding it. She was stronger than her size suggested, but how much of that was the fury only a little woman could muster? If there was one truism he could count on, it was that. ‘Black Lightning’ lived up to his name, blasting electricity when Batman veered left. To the right was ‘Metamorpho’, boxing him in with a wall of white phosphorus. The only way forward was through ‘Katana’ and her shining namesake, which was more than capable of cutting most men down.

The dark knight growled. Where was the justice in grappling with phantoms? This fight served no purpose, save to wear him down. He had to take the boss, and fast.

Katana anticipated the low blow from a mile off, and countered the sweep with a hop. What she couldn’t have foreseen was the taser wired through his glove, or the surge that sent her into convulsions. 

Batman had only a few seconds to charge, moving his way under the intersecting streams of lightning and flame. They were deft enough to keep from searing each other, and only nipped the dark knight’s cape. If not for the flameproofing and insulation in the material, he would have been done for. Even through the punk’s helmet, Batman knew a smug expression. He thought he was good, and maybe he was, but a part of that was bravado. It was hand to hand combat 101 – know your enemy, know yourself, but most of all, believe you’re better, regardless of size or strength. That mindset alone had pushed him through countless impossible feats.

There was nothing artful about his jabs – the blocks, the feints, the parries – or the cheap blow to his enemy’s gut. Instead it was the law of the jungle. Kill, or be killed – or at the very least, subdue. He struck again, cracking the foe with his elbow, and driving him into his knee. The punk faltered, but it was far from the end of him.

Batman ducked the clothesline from behind, and spear tackled the big man with crackling fists. A lightning surge flayed the layer of his costume, wearing down his endurance, but not before lifting the grunt over his head. With deft sleight of hand he attached a hook to the man’s boot, and threw him unceremoniously off the edge. One down, three to go.

“Metahumans,” he spat. Mother Nature’s taunt to the hubris of humanity. It was hard not to take it personal.

Agony sliced through his calves, courtesy of the assassin. Her blade was truly sharp to pass through his armor so effortlessly, with skill to match. Batman hit the ground like a sack of bricks. The impact knocked the wind from his lungs. Not a good place to be. The sword came down again, but he was ready. The seventy million dollars invested in the one-shot diamagnetic pulse generator, strong enough to repel most ferromagnetic materials, was worth every penny. Katana flew away with her sword, just long enough for him to catch breath. But where the assassin came up short, the element man made up for it. He came down as a wave, seemingly harmless at first. It wasn’t until Batman’s gloves fizzled with the smell of burning that he knew it for what it was.

“Hydrofluoric acid!”

He rolled, discarding the gloves, cape and belt before they made contact with his flesh. He was already at a disadvantage, unable to stand – now they’d disarmed him. No, worse. They’d force him to disarm himself.

The phantoms reconvened at the villain’s side. Now that the Batman was down for the count they had time to gloat, as their type were wont to do.

“We’ve done this dance a thousand times, Bruce,” he said.

Bruce? This was personal, regardless of intention. Batman crawled for the ledge. This wasn’t a fight he could win, especially in this shape.

“Don’t ask me why you’re the favorite,” said the foe. “Maybe your fans just love to see you suffer. Because this is the last place you want to be, isn’t it, Bruce? Not just in the here and now, but all your life!”

“Shu… shut up.”

A trail of blood followed him. He’d lost a lot. His hands trembled. Shock was incoming.

“You know the sad irony?” taunted the foe. “Your whole life, you’ve dedicated yourself to avenging the murder of your parents, Thomas and Martha. It was the catalyst for the man you would become. But your fans? They don’t care. To them, the Waynes were just support characters. A prop! They wouldn’t bring your family back if it meant giving up a Dark Knight adventure. Your suffering is their entertainment.”

Disgusting words from a disgusting man. Good. Batman could use that. Hate drove him forward, to the ledge where he fell. Gravity was his ally. One he could move with to safety. Except somehow, for some reason, this punk was in two places at once. Batman fell on the sword. He didn’t feel it at first; not until the gentle warmth moved through his body, teasing apart his existence.

“It’s better this way,” said the villain. “Now Thomas and Martha don’t go to the movies. They stay home. They live, because their little boy was never born. You saved them, Bruce. You saved them by not existing.”

The words were no comfort. But oblivion had comfort to spare.

Washington, DC:

Jason Rusch didn’t know much, but he knew this; when all else fails, ask the internet.

user/nerdburger52

>hai folx
>ne1 c nefing weird in DC 2nyt???
>big hero fight w/ firestorm n some green n red guys
>smthn abt a ‘justice league’???
>nu team m/b???
>lmk

The ‘Watching for Watchmen’ forum seemed like a longshot, but it had served Firestorm before. Why should this be any different?

“Because there’s no such thing as a ‘Flash’ or a ‘Green Lantern’,” Ronnie said.

Jason pressed his face into his hands. It had only been a few hours, but the argument felt a lot longer.

“Because Chronos altered the timeline,” he pressed for what had to be the hundredth time.

“Which is why nobody’s going to know anything,” Ronnie said. “As far as most people are concerned, the Justice Leaders are something you just made up.”

“Justice League.”

“That’s what I said!”

Jason turned away from the computer, and threw himself face first onto the bed. He felt crazy enough being the only one to remember. It didn’t help that his own boyfriend didn’t believe him, either. Can’t you just back me up this once? he didn’t say, ignoring the countless other times Ronnie did have his back. For as long as he was frustrated, this was the only time that mattered.

Ronnie, the lumbering ape that he was, jumped on to straddle Jason’s back, and worked his athletic hands over the other boys shoulders. He leaned in close to whisper gently into his ear.

“Babe, if you say there’s a Justice League, then there’s a Justice League,” he said, though not as convincingly as he could have. “But what are we supposed to do about it?”

Jason muttered into the pillow. “Find Chronos. Undo what he did.”

“Okay. How?”

That he didn’t know. The extent of his knowledge was that Chronos could summon ghosts of what could have been. ‘Trophies’, he called them, and two were old-timey versions of Green Lantern and the Flash …who no longer existed. No doubt trophies themselves.

Jason rolled over, and pouted at his love. Heroism was a burden, and despite being a burden that brought them closer still weighed on his soul. This was more than saving lives. This was saving the existence of others. He stroked Ronnie’s cheek. His jock boyfriend smiled that big silly smile that always warmed his heart. That, more than anything, was worth fighting for.

The voice of Jason’s father resonated down the hall. “Make sure that bedroom door stays open, boys!”

Always the blocker.

Ronnie pried himself away and leaned against the headboard. There were more important things to worry about than love, at least for the moment.

“You said that there were other heroes. Who else, apart from the Lantern guy?”

“Aquaman,” Jason said. “The Martian Manhunter.”

Ronnie shook his head. “Never heard of them.” No surprises there.

“Wonder Woman.”

“Yes!” Ronnie clapped. “I know her! She’s that feminist dominatrix lady, right? The one with the magic rope?”

“I don’t think she’s an actual dominatrix,” Jason said, despite the opinion of the internet.

“Either way, I know her,” Ronnie said. “Who else?”

Jason thought. “There was also Batman.”

“Who?”

He frowned. “Chronos must have got to him, too. What about Superman? Do you know who ‘Superman’ is?”

Ronnie gestured to the mug on Jason’s desk, complete with the ‘S’ logo printed on it.

“So there’s only two remaining,” Jason said, “assuming the League were his only targets.”

From out of the blue Ronnie’s mood turned. In a split Jason was cuddled up near him, gripping his hand.

“Hey. Honey, what’s the matter?”

Ronnie shook his head, like he was somehow wrong for worrying. Both boys knew better.

“I was just thinking,” he said. “Superman’s heading to space to save us all from Ceres. He’s the only thing standing in it’s way. I don’t know that there’s any other hero on Earth capable of stopping it.”

A chill ran through Jason’s chest. What if Superman was also on Chronos’ hit-list? He threw his arms around Ronnie, drawing him close, and resting his head on the shoulder. His hands said what no words could, but he said them anyway.

“Then it falls to us to save Superman,” he sighed.

“Wait, what?”

Jason pulled away. “We save Superman, so he can save the world.”

It took a moment for Ronnie to comprehend the words, as he’d never heard them in that order before. When did Superman ever need saving from anything? Then again, stranger things had happened. Fate, it seemed, was calling on them.

“This looks like a job for Firestorm!”

Somewhere over the West Coast of North America:

Diana hadn’t asked Kendra to join her quest. She never had the opportunity; for the moment she proposed seeking out other heroes – Superman being chief among them – Hawkwoman had already adorned her golden armor, complete with mace. She’d even offered a mode of transport much more efficient than Diana was afforded by the Agency.

The craft moved without sight or sound through the stratosphere, crossing continents and oceans in under an hour. Nobody, save the vessel’s occupants, were aware of the technological marvel – the kind mortals had fought wars for to possess. All failed, for it was the exclusive property of the hawks. Wonder Woman leaned down to stare through the semi-transparent floor. By some miracle neither she or the pilot felt the pull of the g-forces she knew to exist, despite the evident landscape racing by. 

“Even the god Hermes, whose speed is unmatched by any I can name, knows the Earth’s natural resistance,” she remarked aloud. “But your craft circumvents them completely. How is that possible? Is it sorcery?”

Hawkwoman grinned under her gleaming golden helmet.

“It’s Clarke’s Third Law,” she said. “‘Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic’.”

Diana blinked. “This ‘Clarke’ person. She sounds like a remarkable intellect.”

Trust an amazon to naturally credit brilliance to a woman. Hawkwoman could barely contain her mirth. If only such assumptions were more commonplace in what was called ‘the world of man’.

“He, actually,” she continued. “And there are many who consider Arthur C Clarke to be one of the Twentieth Century’s greatest thinkers.”

If Diana was offended or surprised, it didn’t show. Better perhaps to change the subject.

“Where did you come upon such a craft?” she asked.

“It’s from Hawkworld, my native plane. Time works differently there, which is why I’m able to speak to both past and future selves. It also allows us access to technology yet to be imagined.”

Diana beamed. “And they call me Wonder Woman.”

Her remark answered a lesser question: what does it take to make an immortal blush? Gods and their ilk were accustomed to flattery, even expected it – but Kendra, not so much. At least not among peers.

The invisible plane slowed with a hum and shifted to a lower altitude. Sand stretched from the eastern most parts of Mexico through California, with only long stretches of road to divide them. A handful of towns and reservations dotted the scenery, but disappeared behind them soon after.

Wonder Woman leaned over Hawkwoman’s shoulder and pored over the console. At a glance it seemed intuitive – simple enough that a child could navigate.

“I must admit to being jealous,” she said. “The things I would do with my own jet!”

“Anytime you want to take her for a joyride, just ask,” said Hawkwoman.

The prospect made her giddy, but Diana contained herself. “I’ll take you up on that, once our quest is completed.”

A red light screamed on the console, demanding attention.

Diana frowned at it. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Alarms rarely are,” Hawkwoman said.

“What’s the matter?”

The Hawk turned and narrowed her vision through the semi-transparent craft. “There. On our six.”

At subsonic velocity, a tail of less than five hundred yards may well be breathing down their necks. The craft, so small that only a single occupant could straddle it, narrowed the distance between them in seconds. Neither it, nor its blue and silver pilot, showed any sign of turning.

“Hang on, princess!”

Diana clutched the seat, and her nerve, as the craft turned into a barrel roll and plummeted nose first toward the ground. It was difficult to be a passenger, to entrust her fate to another, to not own an active role – but Kendra was more than capable. She chose to trust that fact.

Kendra jerked the control stick, prompting the craft to turn so violently that it rattled the hull. Not even this impossible plane could resist gravity entirely. Still the pursuer kept apace, and brandished a strange sword in one hand.

Hawkwoman’s wings bristled with metallic feathers standing on end. “Do you think he has something to do with your ‘Justice League’?” she asked.

Wonder Woman grit her teeth. “It wouldn’t surprise me. Let’s find out.”

“You might want to sit this one out, princess. The sky is my domain!”

“Land, sea or air,” Diana proclaimed, “an amazon never runs from a fight!”

She regretted those words the moment the canopy opened, and the rush of wind knocked her back in her seat. Were it not for her safety belt, the amazon would have blown into the wild blue, only to collide with the hard, unforgiving earth. Hawkwoman caught the wind in her wings, and in a snap lifted into the sky! She gripped her mace tight, aiming for a collision of her own design.

Diana winced, fighting through the tears protecting her eyes to make sense of the controls. They were locked in place, keeping the vessel steady while the pilot took care of business. She would not allow Hawkwoman to fight alone. With one end of her lariat tied around her left arm, Wonder Woman cast the other around the nose of the vessel. There it gripped like a bridle to a mare, and with the same fortitude that kept Gaia’s girdle from bursting held her to the plane. Inch by inch she climbed onto the back, ignoring the slipstream cutting her flesh, and primed herself for battle. Then she heard the voice of a machine.

“ACCESS SYSTEM: NEW EARTH, POST-CRISIS > DOVE, MARY MARVEL, POWER GIRL, STARGIRL.”

Suddenly the air was beset by phantoms; women, each propelled by magic, science, or any number of supernatural forces that divided them from humanity. Wonder Woman braved them all, first deflecting a stream of energy with her bracelets, and kicking the others away when they closed to strike. She loosed the line just enough that she flew back, and with that momentum delivered a hard boot to the girl with the staff. ‘Stargirl’ she surmised from the uniform, tumbled into the ether, far from reach. One down, and four to go.

With strength awarded her by the gods she climbed back to the plane and planted her feet once more. Where were the others? She hadn’t heard the approach over the wind cutting her ears, and it wasn’t until a pair of biceps grappled her from behind that she realised her next enemy. ‘Power Girl’ if her strength was anything to go by. Wonder Woman pressed for all her might, but the warrior was her match in a brawl. She’d have to think her way out of this one. Diana dropped to her knees, but struggled for leverage against the g-forces. Her captor also knew a thing or two about greco-roman wrestling.

The silver haired girl with a cape like a bird’s wings loosed the golden rope from the nose of the vessel. Diana grunted, with every fiber resisting the fate they had planned for her. Another figure, this one dressed in gold and white, dropped down in front of them. Her smile appeared innocent, but her intent was anything but.

“Please, sister!” Diana roared to be heard. “You don’t have to do this!”

The girl, however, was unmoved, and giggled before uttering a single word.

“Shazam!”

Lightning cracked with all the fury of Olympus, burning the amazon, the plane, and all on it. The pain was unbelievable, like being whipped by Zeus! White flashed before Diana’s eyes, separating her from her body, before awareness came crashing back. She fell to Earth at speeds beyond comprehension; a victim of gravity, one of the true inevitable forces of the universe. Could even she withstand such a fall?

But it would not do to wait for death. Wonder Woman searched her surroundings, such as they were, blinking through the salty haze flooding her eyes. She was not the only one in freefall. The young woman in reach – ‘Dove’ – could fly. With a deft movement she curled her lasso, and cast it out to the other falling body. It wrapped around the phantom’s torso, starting her awake, and sending her into a panic. Just what she was hoping for.

The white haired girl arced through the air, slowing their descent, but not enough to keep them from dragging in the dirt at breakneck speed. Diana rolled, and pulled for all her strength into as tight a ball as her body could manage. She collected cuts and scrapes for the better part of half a mile before plowing into a sand bank.

She lay in the dirt, staring into the sun, tasting the blood in her mouth, while consciously assessing her injuries. Every bone, every tendon and sinew, burned with agony. But at least she was alive.

Diana woke to the crunching of boots. How long was she out? Long enough to be found in whatever ditch she landed. The stranger dropped something heavy. Its handle clanked against the dry dirt. Wonder Woman lifted her weary head, and looked past the swelling that eclipsed her vision. Her chest froze. Kendra’s mace, and no Kendra. That could only mean…

A grey haired man in a silver bodysuit ran the clumsy tip of his blade down her collarbone to the center of her chest. Diana swatted him away with what little strength remained, but he found his place again, and pressed harder. It tingled against her skin. Not like death, but something else – something more dire, if there was such a thing.

“No matter how many ways they try to tell your story, it always turns out the same,” he said. “It doesn’t matter where or when you came from, but who you are in the present. Other heroes get origins, but you – you, Diana, get to be a symbol.” 

“What have you… done… with Hawk… Hawkwoman?”

The villain shook his head. Always thinking of others, even to the bitter end – always sacrificing herself.

“It’s a shame. In every world, people don’t know how good they have it, just because you’re there.”

The blade broke flesh, prompting a cry. Diana clapped its length between her hands, but couldn’t push it away.

“So you know, this isn’t personal,” the villain said, as though to end a life was anything but.

Wonder Woman barely felt the weapon skewer her heart, and was unaware of the energies that unbound her being. Suddenly she could no longer remember her quest, or even herself. In the end there was nobody to remember.

NEXT ISSUE: Can one stand where the rest have fallen? Who can save the world, if not Superman? This and more in part five of ‘Executive Order’!