Justice Lords Limitless Act 2: EndWar

Tim Drake stood atop a defunct bakery as the cool city air tickled his bare ears. The building below his feet had at different times been a toy store, a hardware store, and a pharmacy. Even now, as a boarded-up bakery, he knew it wouldn't be long before another short-lived business venture made the mistake of choosing this building for its location. But that was the point, as timeless as Gotham looked from a distance, it was always changing.

Across from him was a remodeled apartment building. During the Justice Lords, the building had gone under forced renovations. What at one time had been a decrepit five-story complex was now a bland, modern eyesore among a row of buildings with more gothic character. It wasn't just any apartment building, though, it was his last home before Bruce had taken him in. He'd lived at that spot for a time until that fateful day when he became a preteen hostage and had his first run-in with Batman.

And now things are about to change again. His thumbs ran circles over the cloth mask in his grasp. Change. It had been a rather annoying fixture in conversation these last few months and it was getting to him. Dick, Bruce, Barbara, even the new Batgirl– they'd all at one point picked at the scab unwittingly. But they had been right: change was inevitable. What mattered was who instigated him.

For the last few months, he'd been reactionary. Change had happened and he'd played the part of the unwitting victim of it all. As the world spun around him, he'd allowed the whims of others to carry him like some sort of plastic bag in the wind. Not anymore. He pulled on his mask and turned his back on the apartment complex. It was time to institute a change of his own.

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Mawk collapsed onto his bed with a sigh, the tension of uncertainty still curling in his chest. No matter what he did, he was never right. I defend her purchases, I'm wrong. I look out for our wallets, I'm wrong. I stand up for our literal lives... and I'm still wrong! When am I ever right? After all the money his family had thrown at his therapist, Kimber was an issue he really thought would have been sorted by now.

He sat up and scratched his head in frustration. The thought of texting Curtis crossed his mind, but he knew this was something he just wouldn't understand. The kid was pretty good grounded in a fair number of topics such as computers and finances – shoot, his workout regimen was surprisingly effective – but there was no chance in hell that he'd have much advice on the topics of women and relationships. He probably hadn't even gotten past first base yet. Besides, lately Curtis had been too buried in work and upcoming classes. Over the summer, Curtis' social life seemed to plummet.

"Didn't have that far to fall." The former high school football star laughed at his friend's expense. He stood and walked to his closet and began to change. As he removed his fine clothes, his thoughts drifted from Curtis to his high school friend group. A number of them had moved out of state for college. Some had traveled to Blüdhaven or Metropolis while others went as far as Jump City on football scholarships. He didn't really keep in contact with them anymore. "Ironic. Here I am making fun of Curtis' social life, while mine is only a few levels better..."

He unloaded his pockets and slipped off his pants before hanging them up. As he stepped back from the closet, he looked at his phone resting on the bed among his wallet, keys, and some spare change. He fought the drive to pick up the phone and call Kimber. As much as he wanted to talk to her, he knew it wasn't a good idea. They'd only just spoken and she'd seemed distracted. If he hadn't gotten her full attention in person, there was no way he'd get it over the phone. Calling again would make him seem needy, and he wasn't needy.

He replayed the kiss they'd just shared. Her lips were soft as the day they'd met and her eyes were beautiful in the early moon's light. As he'd held her close, he'd felt a flutter in his heart – that craving for her validation and the stability she represented. But as magical as the moment had been, something hadn't been right on that doorstep. Something was missing. She had seemed to tense up in his embrace instead of melting into it like she usually did. Part of him felt as if she had been pulling back, hesitant. Then again, we were on her porch. I think her father was home. Rare.

As Mawk finished changing into his nightly wear, a picture on his dresser caught his attention. It was a picture of him and Kimber from a school banquet two and a half years ago. He picked it up and relived the memory. Kimber's dress, a terrifically risque wine-red, had stunned him that night. He was no slouch himself, dressed in his tailored European suit he'd looked rather dashing. Gosh, had it only been two and a half years? It felt like a lifetime ago; back when he felt like nothing could touch them, when he was truly invincible. He smiled at the innocence captured in the photo. How had things grown so complicated?

"She loves me and she just wants me to be safe. That's why she doesn't want me standing up to injustice." He placed the picture back on the dresser, kissed his fingers, then touched the photo. "I'm sorry, Kimber. I know you just want me to be safe, but being a bystander just isn't who I am. I'm doing what is best for both of us. You'll see."

Mawk pocketed his personal items and, after a few minutes, he exited his apartment building. Both of his hands held tightly to the straps of a backpack containing precious cargo. Soon he would show her what he'd been working toward. Soon he'd be able to feel in control again and make things safe. He just needed a little more practice.

He slipped back into his car. The cabin was still warm and he took a moment to enjoy the fleeting warmth of the cold car. Soon, things would be awesome again. Soon he would make sure the city was safe for people to walk at night. Sure, it would be tiring and his schedule get even more crowded, but one didn't become top dog by lazing around. And the hero always gets the girl. Always. So, of course, Kimber would cling to him even more. That's how it would work.

Hopefully.

He stared at his mask.

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Kimber stared into her palms with horror. She had been sitting in the bathroom for the past half hour, still in her dress, thinking. Her feelings for Mawk were... waning at best.

"How did this happen?" She turned her hands over a few times as if answers would spring from her palms. When they didn't, she continued to dive. "Where did the magic go…" It was more of a statement than a question and, before she could stop herself, a darker thought crossed her mind: had there ever been magic? Had she been so afraid of losing someone who'd been a constant companion that she was willing to enter a relationship with him just to keep him close? Did she ever love him or was it simply the fear of losing him?

No. She had loved him. It was real. Was. But now it was gone.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her phone. She quickly wiped her eyes and cleared her throat before answering. "Hello? Hey, Curt, wassup?... Yeah, I'd called on the way home...Nothing important, I was just checkin' up on you...Yes, Mawk was driving, why?... No, I've got some things to think about, now..." She could hear the concern in his voice and as comforting as it was, she couldn't accept it. His well-meaning questions only prodded at problems she wasn't willing to face. She deflected. "Naw, I'm totally fine, just something personal...Yeah, I know I can talk to you about it, I'd just prefer not to!"

She wasn't sure where the vitriol came from, but something inside her went sour and she felt her temperature rising against the boy on the line. "Yeah, yeah, whatever...Go take a nap—or whatever you do when you're not in orange and black. Fuck off." She hung up in the middle of his confused response and then instantly regretted snapping. But she didn't want to call back. She couldn't talk to him at the moment. Even though she knew she probably should. At least to apologize.

"Dammit!" In a spontaneous fit of anger, she chucked her phone across the bathroom. It smashed into the wall violently. She sat there, numb. Tears streaked down her face as she stared at the shattered phone screen. They were both broken.

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Batman crept along the edge of the rooftop, his steely gaze fixed on a shady individual. A man in an all-black unitard was sneaking around the perimeter of a prominent government research facility run by S.T.A.R. Labs. As tempted as Batman was to jump down and accost the mook, the man in black had done nothing wrong. Yet.

Back in the days of the Justice Lords, just being near any S.T.A.R. Labs research facility would have been enough for authorities to swarm a character and cart them off to jail for questioning. Now, here was a man in all black prowling the grounds for god knows what reason, and the Bat could do nothing but watch. Trespassing was a crime, but not one the Batman would fight over. The time for brutally enforcing the little laws was in the past.

He'd first spotted the suspicious individual loitering around a WayneTech satellite office before losing sight of him. Turned out the man had hopped on a late-night trolley, stealing a ride from the Cauldron to Founder's Island. From there, it hadn't taken long for Batman to catch up with the prowler across from the S.T.A.R. Labs facility; and while the Dark Knight knew the dark figure was up to no good, so far it was nothing that a security guard couldn't handle… If the security guards hadn't been distracted by the radio broadcast of a local sporting event.

Batman shifted on his haunches as he watched the obscure figure run his fingers along the base of the building in a seemingly random manner. Make a move.

The nightcrawler did just that. In the blink of an eye, the man scaled the security fence and narrowly avoided the motion detection monitors just before slipping through an open window. It was impressively fast even by Batman's standards. Batman leaped from his perch and glided soundlessly to the facility's roof just as the invader closed the window. Finally, he could act; this trespassing was now a breaking and entering.

Kimber staggered out of the bathroom and managed to change from her dress to something she felt more comfortable in: slightly worn jeans and an oversized hoodie. Under the hoodie, she had on part of her homemade Batgirl uniform. The weight of the padded tunic made her feel calm. As much as she hated to admit it, she was becoming like the old man. Not her father, but Bruce Wayne. The Batman.

"Goin' somewhere already, Kim?" Her father called her from the living room. "You just got in."

Kimber paused at the door. "Yeah, I just need to go for... a walk, I guess. Clear my head." She hoped her dad didn't catch the tremor in her voice.

No such luck. He was her father, after all. "Kimber." Mr. Lee stood and approached with concern in his eyes. "Have you been crying?"

"What?" Kimber wiped her eyes with her sleeve and turned to her dad. "No, Papa." She smiled as best she could. But her father, the veteran parent that he was, saw through the charade.

"Kimber." Mr. Lee frowned slightly at the front his daughter was putting up. "Something's wrong." His voice shifted from protecting and powerful to soft and caring in an instant. "How was that dinner with Mawk?"

"Good."

"Did something happen?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"..."

"Kimber..."

"Yes, Papa, I'm sure!"

Goren paused. Kimber noticed a vein begin to bulge on his forehead as his face hardened. "He didn't try to—"

"What? Papa!" Kimber looked at her father with disbelief and disgust. "No! Mawk's not like that!"

Instinctively, the older Lee raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "Okay, okay, calm down." He combed his fingers through his hair. "Just making sure."

"He's a good guy. It's just..." Kimber found herself walking to the couch. She had hoped to go to the library. She had things that could keep her mind busy. College was starting and there were books to read, classes to prep for, essays to get ahead on... Whatevs. "I don't feel the same way I did last year." She plopped down on the couch. "After that… party, I realized how precious he is to me. But, now I don't feel like he is precious in the same way, y'know?" She looked at her father.

"I know, kiddo." Mr. Lee stared straight ahead, thinking. "People grow apart sometimes. Love can fade, especially if you never knew for certain, to begin with." He used his calloused thumb to wipe a tear at the corner of his eye. "It happens to the best of us." He looked at his daughter.

"Mama?"

Goren adjusted himself in his seat with a grunt and nodded. "Your mama and I... We thought we had it all figured out. And together, we made the best thing in our lives—you. But just like everything in life, things change. People grow, Kim, and sometimes people grow apart. She just decided we weren't working." Mr. Lee gave a small smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes.

Kimber studied her father's face, caught off-guard by the raw honesty in his voice. "Do you still love her?"

Goren paused, his eyes staring past his daughter for a moment as memories of a past life rushed by in mere seconds. A melancholy feeling tugged at his gut but he managed to fight it down. "I do," he admitted, his voice soft but steady. "And I think she does, too... Or maybe thinking that just makes it easier for me." He cleared his throat, brushing a hand over his face. "But this isn't about me, Kim. My issues, my mistakes, are my own. This is about you and Mawk. How do you know you ever really loved him like… well, like a relationship 'love'?"

"Huh?"

"Kimber. I know what you two would do." Her father gave a knowing smirk. "You were almost always together, but was that because you wanted to be? You spent more of your dates with him studying than – well – dating. If I didn't know better, I'd say the whole relationship was a ruse."

"Well...it wasn't totally for that reason..." Kimber stared out the window, her cheeks and eyes burning. "He was the brash and lovable playmaker who'd been a varsity starter since Freshman year, I was a star in the Chemistry Bowl circuit who moonlit as a competitive gymnast. We were both at the top of the social pecking order, so people just sort of assumed we would be a great couple. After a while, it felt easier to go along with it." She let out a short laugh, bitter and hollow. "He was the jock, I was the merit scholar. We were a stereotype, Papa. A match made in high school heaven."

"That kind of pressure can screw with your head, Kimber. A fake relationship can do more harm than good." Goren brushed a loose strand of hair from his daughter's face. "As proud as I am that you didn't fall into risky behavior in high school, I feel what you did was... extreme." He paused. "You never found out if what you felt was real or just... convenient."

"So you think I tricked myself into liking him? Because I didn't." Kimber was quick to object to her father's insinuation. She scooted forward on the couch and glared in his direction. "I didn't realize I loved him until after his stupid, stupid party."

"Loved?"

Kimber felt tears well up again in her eyes. She hadn't even realized she'd used the past tense. "I don't think I care for him the same way anymore. I don't know, but something just..."

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"...doesn't feel right." Batman carefully wandered the halls of the empty S.T.A.R. Labs building. Equipped with an infrared flashlight and matching lenses, he shouldn't have been having so much trouble searching for the trespasser.

He had gotten in through the same window the sneaker had snuck in through and yet there was no trace of anyone aside from the odd oblivious security guard. Whoever this guy was, he was good at leaving no trace. Batman switched off his flashlight and shifted his lenses. Perhaps more progress would be made in the dark.

A rattling caught his attention. Quickly, the Dark Knight ran out of the hall he was investigating, headed for the noise. Careful, Batman. As he approached the room the sound had emanated from, he slowed his stride and pressed his back against the wall. Flat against the wall, he peered around the corner.

He saw the man in black rummaging through various secure boxes. Though even just one object from any box would fetch a pretty penny on the black market, the thief seemed to sort past them with little care. Every item he took out, he quickly inspected and then placed back within its container carefully. It was almost honorable.

He has something specific in mind, Batman thought to himself. But what?

Suddenly, the prowler whirled around and faced a man-sized safe. He approached the safe and ran a slow hand over the digital lock. He mumbled something incoherent and then checked something in his hands. As he read his palm, the prowler began typing into the interface.

Silently, the Dark Knight crept behind the man in black. When he was within ten feet, he jumped to tackle him. The thief somehow expected the surprise attack and sidestepped, allowing Batman to tumble right by him. Batman rolled over one shoulder and pushed off the vault floor, redirecting himself in the man's direction with fists cocked to attack. But by the time he'd righted himself and thrown his punch, Batman found the space empty. His fist whiffed through the void and a quick about-face revealed the vault had been cracked open, and the man had slipped inside. He stepped into the vault and blocked the entrance. "Who are you?" he demanded into the dark.

"I think the better question is," the digitally distorted voice echoed from inside the safe, "where am I?'"

Batman looked into the vault and found himself asking that very question. Within the safe was a small party of mannequins. Though all were dressed in standard military wear, Batman could tell one of them had been partially pilfered. While the rest wore standard military gloves and belts, one mannequin was distinctly bare. A belt harness and gloves? What was S.T.A.R. Labs developing? Batman turned from the vault and scanned the outer room. "Where are you?"

"Nice to see that the pretenders aren't with you." The voice came from Batman's right and instinctively the detective threw a punch at it. His packed fist connected with a face and the thief was taken off his fell to the ground on his rear a few feet back.

"Oof! Hey!" the man cried out as he hit the ground. "I knew you had good reflexes, but that was crazy!"

Batman ignored the platitude and leered down at the thief. The sneaker's face was covered by a mask of sorts, but Batman wasn't able to make out the details too well in the dark. "Who are you?" he demanded again. The question was now more charged.

"Like I said." The prowler tapped his belt buckle as Batman reached down for him and vanished before Batman's eyes. "'Where am I?' is the better question."

Batman spun in a circle in surprise and looked around for the prowler with every sense heightened. His hand had gone right through the spot the man had been moments ago. It shouldn't have been possible. Either the man was very fast, or— There! Batman adjusted his position and faced a window close to thirty feet up. Crouching on the sill and seemingly watching with interest was the skulking figure. Once Batman locked his eyes on the figure, the figure clapped slowly.

"I Spy champion, right here." He gestured in Batman's direction mockingly.

Batman hunched forward slightly, his cape further swallowing his arms. Behind his cape, he readied the bat-claw and prepared to fire at the window.

"I know why you're hiding your hands, Batman. Grabbing your bat-claw, no doubt to try and catch up to me," the digitized voice taunted. "But you won't get even close. You're not fast enough."

Faster than a gunslinger in the Wild West, Batman fired his bat-claw at the mystery man and zipped toward him. However, right when he was no more than ten feet from his target, Batman watched the thief vanish again into thin air like an apparition. He tumbled through the space the man had just occupied, dumbfounded, and barely caught the ledge. As he hoisted himself up, he ran through all the possibilities of what he could be experiencing. This wasn't invisibility and he had a feeling this wasn't superspeed, either.

On the other side of the closed window, the prowler fizzled into view. Through the glass, Batman could finally make out the man's mask. It was black with a white skull painted over the face with a red marking over the forehead. In a move that almost made light of the whole fiasco, the man waved.

"See you 'round, B-man." The digitized voice was muffled by the window, but it was still enough to hear the taunting tone in his voice. He gave a mock salute and then faded from view.

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The Batmobile rolled to a stop in the BatCave and idled for a few moments as its driver sat in contemplation. He'd managed his way out of the S.T.A.R. Labs warehouse without being seen, but by the time he'd gotten to where he'd last seen the prowler, there was no sign of him. He'd scrutinized the scene with various tools but found nothing, not even a hair. It was almost like the man had never been there in the first place. Batman exited the Batmobile with a scowl still clinging to his face as he tried to piece together just how the mystery man disappeared.

"Well, look what the bat dragged in." Robin's dry greeting came from the crime lab. "I was about to send out a search party when the sun peeked over the horizon."

"Don't you have a home?"

"Don't you?"

"You're in it."

"Really? I thought the deed was for the manor above?" Robin asked. "If you're not using it, you think I could—"

"Fair enough," the Bat interrupted. He gestured to the cell that still housed the villain formerly known as Two-Face. "Learn anything more from our guest?"

"Not in the slightest – he's still half cooperative, after all. But even when he was of a mind to inform, he wasn't sure where he had been taken. Just that it was on the water. Could be anything from a boat to an island to a beach." Robin rubbed his brow to try and wake himself up. "Chief Lee wants him dumped off at One Police Plaza in an hour."

"You're aware there's not much night left?"

"Yep. Speaking of which, you're never out that late. What gives? Surprised you didn't turn to dust."

"Funny." However, Batman sounded anything but humored. He drew a few items out from his belt and scattered them on a bare metal table. A half-finished pack of gum that held an audio recorder, a pair of sunglasses that hid a camera, and a fake mustache; all were spread out on the table. "I did some undercover work. Stretched Matches Malone's legs for a while to glean some information about Ra's and his plan."

"Anything?"

"A mob boss is supposed to meet with Ra's to discuss their partnership. Apparently, he has chosen to side with Ra's' extremist agenda. Not sure what they've been promised, but I am confident that this meeting will give us more information as Ra's builds his foothold in Gotham."

"You'd think with all his underworld connections, Ra's would already be in charge of half the gangs."

"Gotham's peculiar that way. Too many egos for Ra's to only show up every so often and still hold control. It would have to be a full-time commitment, one Ra's al Ghul would never make considering his global concerns. Besides, like a few other groups who survived the Justice Lords' shake-up of the organized crime underbelly, the Society of Shadows is likely trying to rebuild more than as they are trying to expand."

"Sounds like you should have dismantled him when you had the whole world under your thumb, huh?"

"It wasn't my place."

"You sure made everywhere else your place," Robin shot back. "Or at least, Superman did."

"The world had been through enough turmoil." Batman spun around and faced Robin. "Gotham especially! Once the initial event settled, I took time to think. I decided to keep my case files separate and only brought in the Lords when I felt it necessary."

"Must have felt it a lot."

"Only on the ones I brought up with J'onn."

"The Martian?" Robin's face twisted in confusion. "Why would you bring up cases to him and not to the whole team?"

"It was easier that way."

"For who?"

"For whom," Batman corrected instinctively.

"Question still stands. Why wouldn't cases be brought to all the Lords? Couldn't have been that hard with video chat."

"Because we would meet in person."

Robin's face grew even more quizzical. "You and J'onn? Here? Why?"

Batman turned back around to the items on the table and mimed inspecting them, but his mind was elsewhere. J'onn had always been so insistent on meeting regularly with Batman. The alien was always a bleeding heart and seemed to stem from a desire to remain connected despite the increased responsibilities the team had taken on. All that considered, his meetings with the Martian Manhunter during the Justice Lords never seemed odd to him; but looking back, it was a question he should have asked a long time ago… and he wasn't liking the answer.

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Diana stood up out of the garden and eyed over her handiwork. As much as she enjoyed fighting in the past, raising a garden turned out to pose just as many challenges for her as saving a life. But finally, my children are free to soak up the rays!

She hated to admit it, but she was starting to understand Poison Ivy's obsession with plants. They were easy to talk to, cheap to manage – if done properly, of course – and they don't keep secrets aside from the occasional aphid infestation. Which is much less than I can say for Bruce Wayne...

The more she lived with the multi-billionaire playboy, the more her first assumption of him was proven right: there was more to the dashing man than the gossip columns could ever know. The many unexpected meetings, the late nights at the office, the numerous business dinners; Diana wasn't sure what to make of it all except that he was very invested in running his company. It was no wonder Wayne Enterprises was such an influential powerhouse, the man running it all never seemed to sleep. But where there's smoke, there's fire and while she didn't believe the outlandish claims made by the tabloids, she did believe there was something that her suave host was hiding.

Back in the day, she probably would have exercised her authority and recruited the Justice Lords' staff reporter Clark Kent to do an investigative deep dive on Bruce or maybe even petition Batman to dig up whatever Wayne was hiding under Gotham. But now she was on her own and left to her own devices.

"And I feel it all starts with the vault behind that clock of his. I've heard of some men needing a 'man cave', but that cavern is ridiculous!" She crouched by her flowerbed as she continued to consult her flowers. "I know the wealthy have a penchant for wanting everything bigger, but that place looked so underdeveloped. The lack of lighting on that staircase alone is dangerous." She paused in thought. "Maybe he's constructing a bunker down there?"

Recognizing she was no longer just speaking to the flowers but having a discussion with them, she promptly stood up and started walking back to the mansion. The sun must have been getting to her. Or the lack of social stimulation. Bruce had been more or less absent the past two days, so who else was there to talk to? She closed her eyes and could almost hear the muddled conversations and classical music of the last dinner party. Despite some of the attendees, that gala Bruce had taken her to hadn't been so bad. She moved in gracefully in time with the imagined music as she waltzed across the grass. She felt soft for admitting it but she wanted to attend another. "At least it got me out of the house..."

"If you were bored, you should have spoken up!" Bruce Wayne's voice rang behind her and his surprisingly gentle arms settled on her waist and followed her through the end of her waltz.

She shivered under his tender touch and allowed herself a small smile. "Be careful, Mr. Wayne," she warned. "Wouldn't want the news to think we're an item, would we? After all, what would that do to your reputation as Gotham's most eligible bachelor?"

"Maybe it's time I slowed down that role anyway. Age and all." He laughed into her raven hair. "But if it's excitement you want, how about some sparring?"

Surprised, the Amazon pushed him away playfully and spun in place to face him. "You'd like another go at dueling?"

Bruce half-shrugged. "I was thinking on a more... personal level?"

Diana's gaze trailed from his lips to his eyes. "Personal? How personal do you want to get, Mr. Wayne?"

Bruce didn't respond. Instead, he threw a punch at her. The punch was sloppy, telegraphed, and clearly a playful warning strike. Diana easily controlled it and pivoted, throwing him to the ground with an Amazonian exclamation. She looked down at him with a pitying expression.

"Oh dear, you want to play this game, Mr. Wayne?"

Back on the ground, Bruce looked up at Diana. The expression on her face was one he'd seen before, a lifetime ago, on a redhead's face. And from the same position, too. "It would be a lot safer sword fighting. If you'd indulge my interests." He attempted to sweep Diana's legs out from under her with a well-practiced jiu-jitsu move.

Diana displayed rather impressive footwork as she nimbly stepped out of Bruce's attack. Once her feet were back on solid ground, she tilted her head to one side and waited for her attacker to get his own feet back under him. "You have interests outside of women, business, and fast cars? Pinch me, I'm dreaming." She didn't wait for him to steady himself before throwing a punch.

Bruce deflected the attack and then he jabbed with his off-hand. He had a clean opening to her right cheek; but instead of striking, Bruce stopped his hand short, reached out with his pointer and thumb, and pinched Diana's cheek. "Only because you asked so nicely," he said with a wink.

Diana pursed her lips. In a surprisingly quick movement, she swept Bruce's feet out from under him and grabbed his shirt as he lost his balance. With a twist of her hips, she sent him tumbling to the ground again. Despite his bulk, he didn't feel as heavy as she had expected. As the multi-billionaire rolled onto his back to rise again, Diana adjusted her feet. "You are quite the kidder."

"And you always fill me with surprises, Ms. Prince." Bruce got up and struck out with his heel to her temple.

Diana raised both forearms to block the back-kick and pushed him away with her hands. Before he was able to regain his footing, she executed a palm thrust to his chest, knocking him back. It all felt so natural to her: the strikes and the blocks… Each hit and each throw reminded her of home. The anxious feeling in her hands before contact, the sound of her heart pounding in her head, how acute she felt her senses get as the more primal parts of her brain anticipated danger at every turn, she loved it all and, oh, how she missed it.

She watched Bruce stagger trying to regain his footing to no avail. He tripped over his legs and fell into a bush, and she had to restrain her laughter. She wasn't sure if he was sparring to make her feel better or if he actually thought a playboy like him could best Themyscira's best fighter, but Hera bless his heart for trying. "That's three for three." Diana wiped an imagined bead of sweat from her brow. "Tired?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?" Bruce shakily pulled himself out of his hedge as Diana laughed at his foolhardy fighting spirit. He balled up his fists and gestured for her to come at him. "C'mon! I'm not done yet!"

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"Feels like it's always night in this damn city..." Stewart grumbled as he glared out the window of the hideout he shared with the other Justice Lords. The breakout wasn't his brainchild, but he'd been onboard early as he was eager to get out of his cell and back in the skies where he belonged. He'd been one of the most gungho for the revenge scheme they'd plotted out, but now it had been weeks and they were still only venturing out under the cover of darkness to gather intel on the Bat and his patterns. And even that was inconsistent.

After his last outing in Star City and the resulting fiasco he and Kent had caused, the decision had been made to further limit his time out and about, even though the squabble with the authorities revealed not only a new vigilante on the scene but a new Robin as well. Kent alone was able to wander the streets unfettered – so long as he didn't draw attention to himself or don the cape. Stewart clenched his jaw. Perhaps there was something to that secret identity thing after all.

"You're grinding your teeth again." Shayera casually pointed out from across the room.

Stweart looked from the window to Shayera. She sat at the table before a chess board, lazily playing solo a game made for two. Stewart smiled to himself; there was at least one good thing to come from Kent being out of the hideout. It had been a long time since he had laid eyes on Shayera. A long time. Her fierce orange hair curled around her neck and shoulders like a luxurious scarf, her eyes as emerald as his ring were fixed on a black rook, and her magnificent wings were neatly folded against her back. She was still as gorgeous as he remembered. And he was damn certain that this time he would make this work between them. "Shayera."

She didn't look up. "Yes, John?"

"I have something I want – er – need to tell you." He closed the distance at an even pace but felt an invisible weight with each step. He took the seat opposite her and looked her in the eye despite the turmoil welling in his chest.

"Well, out with it, army boy." Shayera crossed her arms and a smirk playfully darted across her dark lips.

Stewart felt some of his anxiety melt away. He loved the way she smiled. It was never a full smile but always a sort of half-cocky, half-shy smile. He rocked back and forth in his chair and smiled in a boyish manner before speaking. "The past few years have been hectic, especially after we were taken down and strung up."

"A wrong soon to be righted," she murmured.

He nodded. "But that's not what I want to discuss with you right now. We know his time is coming, so I want to discuss what comes after. After this is all over and the world is set right." He paused and took a moment to plan out as best he could what he wanted to say. "Being in prison gave me a new perspective. If you can believe it, I had time to think about what I had and, more importantly, what I'd lost. That time unfairly behind bars forced me to acknowledge just how much certain people meant to me. As it turns out, some people meant a lot."

Shayera's smirk was gone, replaced instead with an uneven line of confusion. "What are you saying, John?"

He didn't reply. Instead, he clumsily got down on one knee.

Oh, he better not do what I think he's about to do... Shayera smiled through her teeth. However, within her was a struggle.

"I've never done this before and years of fighting have hardened me to matters of the heart, but—" From the energy of his ring, he fashioned a rather exquisite engagement ring from imagination. "Shayera, I lost you once and thought it permanent. Now that I have you back, I don't want to lose you again." He held the dark red ring up to her with both hands and gave her a happy and pleading look. "Shayera Hol of Thanagar, when this whole mess is over and done with, will you marry me?"

Shayera put a hand to her chest as if that could stop the veritable pounding bass drum behind her ribcage. "I–I–I don't know what to say..." Her breath had been sucked from her lungs.

"You're supposed to say 'yes'." John nervously chuckled as he waited for her answer.

Before the Justice Lords fell, she had an inkling that this moment would come one day. In a different life, she probably would have anticipated this moment. But she had a duty to a greater plan. A higher calling. Back then, this would have been easy. Just say, "No." But now that he had actually asked for her hand in marriage – after everything over the past year and a half – she just couldn't get the word out. Her heart had decided logic was for the birds.

It was true, she had grown close to John Stewart. He was an admirable man and a courageous warrior with a powerful code of honor. It was no wonder the Green Lantern Corps had chosen him to police Earth and its sector. But she already promised another; betrothed to her commanding officer. She couldn't say yes, but she found it just as impossible to say no.

"It's a beautiful ring, John." She tenderly clasped her hands over his hands. "But...I can't say for sure yet if I'm ready for this step... With everything that's happened, my world is still spinning. Still spinning... Please understand that this isn't a no, but it isn't a yes either. I just need to think about it some more."

"I knew I should have held out until I got my hands on a real ring," Stewart muttered under his breath with a slight wisp of laughter. The former Marine bowed his head with a smile as he stood and the ring faded away. Despite his dour disposition, Stewart didn't seem as crest-fallen as she had anticipated. When he raised his head, she could see disappointment written on his face, but with it was hope. Hope that after some time to adjust, she'd say yes.

Oh, how I wish it were that easy.