Metropolis.
At the very top of one of the city’s central skyscrapers, hidden from prying eyes, stood the Hall of Justice.
The room was bathed in soft, muted light.
Around a massive circular table with a surface resembling dark glass sat six people known to almost everyone on Earth.
There were no ordinary people here.
Only those who had taken upon themselves the unspoken responsibility of protecting the world.
The Justice League.
Barry Allen, the fastest man alive, whose hometown of Central City was officially considered the safest city on the planet, looked strangely sluggish.
Wearing his familiar scarlet suit with the yellow lightning bolt across his chest, the Flash sat slightly hunched over.
Only the barely noticeable vibration of his fingers tapping against the tabletop betrayed his inner tension.
Beside him sat Diana, maintaining a perfect, almost regal posture.
The mighty warrior of Themyscira had secretly guided and protected humanity for more than sixty years, hidden from the pages of history.
The world had only learned of Wonder Woman two years ago, on the day the League was officially founded.
But her authority in this room was unquestioned.
Arthur Curry, Prince of Atlantis, lounged comfortably in his chair.
Only the people sitting around this table knew his true status.
They also knew that Atlantis itself actually existed.
To the rest of the world, Aquaman was simply another incredibly powerful metahuman, capable of commanding water and communicating with marine life.
To Arthur’s left sat the most technologically advanced and all-seeing member of the group.
Victor Stone.
Cyborg.
A man…
Or whatever remained of him after his body had been integrated with a Mother Box.
His invisible presence could be felt throughout every protected corner of the global network.
According to most government analysts with functioning brains, Victor was the most dangerous member of the League.
At the center of the table, sitting opposite the panoramic window, was the man who had been called a god only yesterday.
A being standing at the absolute top of the planet’s food chain.
A symbol of hope.
Superman.
Or, as the entire world now knew, Daily Planet reporter Clark Kent.
Today, however, he looked drained.
His shoulders sagged beneath the blue fabric of his suit, and his eyes remained fixed on the empty surface of the table.
Completing the circle was the smartest tactician and strategist among them.
The man whose resources and paranoia had played a major role in making the League possible.
Batman.
Thomas Wayne.
He had inherited the mantle, mask, and burden from his dead son.
In the eyes of everyone around this table, he was doing a respectable job as the Dark Knight.
But none of them knew what was currently hiding beneath that mask.
“Let’s just kill him.”
Aquaman’s voice was calm and casual, as though he’d suggested ordering pizza.
Arthur understood exactly why the discussion had stalled.
The problem was Charles Kirkman.
And that irritated him.
“I don’t like this asshole,” Arthur continued, crossing his massive arms over his chest.
“Who knows what he’ll do next?
Today he exposed you, Clark.
Tomorrow he could leak the access codes to nuclear silos or the coordinates of my capital.”
“Unlike most of you, I have no problem getting my hands dirty to protect my people.”
“What do you say, Clark?”
“One word.”
Instead of answering directly, Superman slowly raised his head and looked at the Atlantean.
There was no anger in his eyes.
Only heavy, oppressive disapproval.
Even the warm room suddenly felt colder.
“Think about it, Boy Scout,” Arthur continued, refusing to back down.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.
“Every person sitting in this room has skeletons in their closet.”
“Barry has his secret identity, just like you.”
“Diana has Themyscira hidden from the world’s radar.”
“I have an entire fucking underwater civilization that the surface world would happily tear apart and turn into a tourist attraction.”
“If that Kirkman bastard knows anything about any of this…”
The Prince of Atlantis slowly shook his head.
“I’m not playing Russian roulette with my people’s lives.”
“I don’t want to take that risk.”
“Arthur, we don’t have to kill him,” Flash said.
Barry finally stopped tapping his fingers against the table.
“I can deal with Kirkman in a fraction of a second.
I’ll knock him out, lock him inside an anti-metahuman containment cell, and hand him over to ARGUS.”
“Amanda would probably be thrilled.
She loves collecting freaks like him.”
“Just say the word, Thomas.”
Barry turned toward the motionless man in the Batman suit.
“Give me his coordinates and I’ll bring him back gift-wrapped.”
Thomas remained silent.
He sat perfectly still, staring through the table as if he couldn’t hear the conversation at all.
Inside, however, a storm was raging.
His hands were clenched beneath the table so tightly that his Kevlar gloves creaked.
All he could see was Barbara Gordon’s bruised, blue-tinged face.
That detachment didn’t escape the most empathetic person in the room.
“Thomas?”
Diana tilted her head slightly.
Her perceptive gaze moved across the rigid lines of Batman’s mask.
There was genuine concern in her voice.
She could sense that the center of the disaster wasn’t limited to Clark.
“Is something bothering you?
You’ve been acting strange ever since you arrived.”
“Speaking of that,” Cyborg suddenly interrupted.
His red electronic eye focused on Wayne.
“I received a system alert about the emergency deletion of the Alfred protocols several hours ago.”
“The entire architecture of the Batcomputer was wiped.”
“Thomas, what happened in the cave?”
“Were you hacked?”
The atmosphere in the room became so tense it could have been cut with a knife.
“My problems are my problems,” Batman replied coldly.
His voice cracked like a whip.
Thomas didn’t even turn toward Victor.
“The base was compromised.
I activated the purge protocol.”
“I’ll handle it myself.”
“This meeting is about Clark.”
He sharply shifted his attention toward Cyborg, deliberately changing the subject.
“What about the bureaucracy?”
“Everything is…
under control.”
Victor hesitated for a second.
He clearly wasn’t satisfied with Thomas’s answer, but professionalism won out.
His cybernetic eye dimmed as he processed enormous quantities of information.
“Amanda Waller cooperated.”
“ARGUS activated emergency witness-protection protocols and placed Clark’s adoptive parents in the highest level of protection available in Smallville.”
“They’ve already been evacuated.”
“Ex-girlfriend,” Superman corrected quietly.
It was the first time he’d spoken during the meeting.
His voice was deep, but exhaustion weighed heavily on every word.
“Lois and I broke up…
a couple of hours ago.”
“For her own safety.”
He said it evenly, without breaking down.
But everyone who knew Clark could see what those words had cost him.
Three years.
Three years of trying to build a normal human life had been mercilessly flushed down the toilet because of one sentence spoken by a Gotham psychopath on live television.
“I’m sorry, Clark.”
Diana gave him a bitter, crooked smile.
“You’re the last person who deserved to get dragged into this kind of…
shit.”
“Thanks, Diana.”
Clark gave her a short nod.
He took a deep breath, looking around the table.
Then, unexpectedly, his shoulders straightened.
“But you know…
as crazy as this sounds, I actually feel…
free right now.”
Silence filled the room.
“Don’t get me wrong.”
Clark tried to smile reassuringly, though the expression came out forced.
“I’m still furious at Kirkman.”
“My life has been destroyed.”
“But…
hiding for years, lying to Lois from the beginning, wearing these glasses, slouching around, pretending to be an awkward reporter when you can hear a crying child on the other side of the continent…”
“It was exhausting.”
“Now that the worst has already happened…”
“It feels like someone lifted a concrete slab off my chest.”
“I don’t have to pretend anymore.”
“Oh, great!”
Barry gave a nervous laugh.
“So you’re suggesting we all come out of the closet and have a global secret-identity reveal?”
He immediately shut his mouth when he caught Thomas’s heavy stare.
“That’s for everyone to decide for themselves, Barry.”
The corners of Clark’s mouth nevertheless twitched into the faintest hint of a smile.
Then he turned toward Batman.
“Speaking of which, what exactly is happening with Kirkman, Thomas?”
“Your territory.”
“Have you found him?”
“I’m working on it.”
Thomas spoke through clenched teeth.
But he knew excuses wouldn’t work.
The League would demand details.
So, reluctantly, he continued.
“Smart bastard.”
“He isn’t using communications equipment.
He’s gone underground.”
“Oracle…”
Thomas paused.
“Before the deletion, she tracked him to the underground infrastructure beneath Old Gotham.”
“Old catacombs.
Lead pipes.
Shielding.”
“Getting him out won’t be easy.”
Flash opened his mouth to offer his assistance again.
Batman immediately raised one black-gloved hand.
“And no, Clark.”
“Barry.”
“None of you are going down there.”
Thomas slowly looked around the table, shutting down any argument before it could begin.
“This is Gotham.”
“This is my city.”
“And I’m going to find that bastard and deal with him myself.”
“Personally.”
Clark merely shrugged, accepting the rules of the game.
But there was obvious doubt in his eyes regarding Thomas’s methods.
There was far too much anger in Batman’s voice for this to be about a simple arrest.
“I read the reports about the incident at Arkham,” Cyborg said.
His emotionless voice cut through the silence.
Victor didn’t move.
Only the red light in his eye flashed slightly brighter.
“Confirmed escape.”
“Joker and Scarecrow escaped the facility.”
“There was also a confirmed murder.”
“Waylon Jones, known as Killer Croc.”
“The perpetrator was Charles Kirkman.”
The atmosphere in the room instantly became heavier.
“What the hell is happening, Thomas?”
Clark slowly turned toward Batman.
His eyes darkened.
His jaw tightened.
The muscles beneath his skin visibly tensed.
Everything about Superman made it clear how unhappy he was to hear that the psychopath he’d personally thrown into isolation twelve hours ago was already walking free.
“Everything is under control.”
Thomas didn’t flinch.
Not a single muscle beneath his mask moved.
His voice sounded like a steel cable pulled to its breaking point.
“The situation is stable.”
“Everything is proceeding according to plan.”
“Does the plan involve letting them destroy Gotham so we can save money on renovations?”
Barry tried to lighten the mood with a nervous chuckle.
Unfortunately for him, Thomas didn’t find it funny.
“The plan is not to grovel before our enemies while pretending everything is fine when the world is going to hell.”
Wayne’s voice was icy.
The words were aimed directly at Barry.
“You’re losing it, Thomas.”
Clark’s voice was quiet, but there was steel behind it.
He stared directly into Batman’s eyes.
Thomas froze.
His chest rose and fell heavily.
“Sorry.”
He exhaled through clenched teeth and looked toward the center of the table.
“It’s been a difficult twenty-four hours.”
“Too many variables.”
“Back to the matter at hand…”
“Since Amanda Waller has taken responsibility for protecting your family, I suppose we can end this meeting.”
“But I strongly recommend keeping both eyes on that woman.”
“That Hitler in a skirt isn’t going to hesitate to use your weaknesses against you, Clark.”
Barry allowed himself a slight grin.
Diana rolled her eyes, perfectly familiar with the methods of ARGUS’s director.
Arthur, meanwhile, had spent the last several minutes openly staring at his phone, scrolling through the screen with one massive finger and displaying his complete boredom and contempt toward the fact that his radical but, in his opinion, obviously correct solution had been rejected.
Only Victor Stone remained perfectly still, an emotionless statue processing terabytes of information.
Batman continued.
“Waller won’t hesitate to use your weaknesses against you.”
“She’s essentially the only person who benefited from your identity being exposed.”
“Now she has leverage over you.”
“I wasn’t planning on lowering my guard.”
Clark nodded calmly.
His expression softened slightly.
“And Thomas…
if anything happens, you can always count on me.”
“You said earlier that your problems are your problems.”
“I completely disagree.”
“Any problem affecting one of us affects the entire League.”
“We aren’t alone anymore.”
“Isn’t that why we created this alliance in the first place?”
Diana spoke softly but firmly, looking around the table.
“To honor Bruce.”
“To support one another.”
“So that the tragedy that happened to your son never happens to anyone else.”
Thomas’s face twisted painfully.
It was as though he’d been struck beneath the mask.
A flash of guilt and uncontrolled rage crossed his eyes.
He forced himself to nod in gratitude.
“Now that we’ve reached this touching display of spiritual unity, or whatever the surface people call it…”
Arthur slapped his smartphone onto the glass table and stretched his broad shoulders.
“I still suggest we return to Thomas’s problem.”
“Which, according to all of you, has apparently become the League’s problem.”
“So, who’s in favor of ending this shit and simply killing Kirkman?”
He was the first to raise his massive hand.
Then he looked around.
Nobody else followed.
“Arthur, no killing.”
Clark’s voice was cold and absolute.
“And that applies to every single one of us.”
“The Justice League does not act as executioners.”
“Otherwise, how are we any different from villains, criminal cartels, or corrupt government forces?”
“We’re heroes first, Arthur.”
“We’re supposed to set an example.”
Barry supported the Kryptonian, although uncertainty slipped into his voice.
“But as far as Kirkman needing to be dealt with, urgently…”
“I agree.”
“You already know my position, Thomas.”
“My offer still stands.”
“When the League was created, we clearly established each member’s sphere of influence.”
Thomas spoke each word with deliberate precision.
“Only in exceptional, global emergencies can that rule of sovereignty be broken.”
“This situation is local.”
“Kirkman isn’t a greater threat than the Joker.”
“Pfft.”
Arthur leaned forward with open contempt.
“You actually believe that, Wayne?”
“I know it.”
Batman answered with an unblinking stare.
“Then why the hell did you panic so badly when that kid almost turned your favorite clown into hamburger?”
Arthur’s voice became openly challenging.
“You even had to pull Clark in to save the bastard.”
“You protecting your little private kingdom?”
“I know the Joker better than anyone in this room.”
Thomas didn’t flinch.
There wasn’t a hint of dishonesty in his voice.
“And I know exactly what he would leave behind in the event of his sudden death.”
“A few dozen extremely unpleasant surprises.”
“Booby-trapped hospitals.”
“Poisoned reservoirs.”
“The clown’s death would be a detonator.”
“Dead Hand Protocol.”
Cyborg nodded, instantly recognizing the pattern.
“A classic terrorist contingency.”
“Exactly.”
Thomas didn’t even look at Victor.
“We were talking about saving millions of lives in Gotham.”
“That was precisely the kind of emergency situation that justified me bringing Clark into this.”
“I assume we’re done with this subject now?”
“Fine.”
Arthur shrugged.
He clearly didn’t care about the finer details of Gotham’s architecture or terrorist contingency plans.
He picked up his phone again, already losing interest in the argument.
“But I’m not taking back what I said.”
“We’re playing with fire.”
“Kirkman needs to be eliminated before he builds an army or breaks someone else’s spine.”
“I’m not taking back what I said either.”
Clark leaned forward.
His voice was cold as steel.
“We don’t kill, Arthur.”
“And I’m willing to repeat that as many times as necessary until you understand the rules.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“I get it.”
“High moral standards and all that.”
Arthur waved him off without looking away from his phone.
Before Clark could take a deep breath and launch into another lecture, Cyborg took advantage of the brief silence.
“Thomas.”
“Gotham is going completely insane.”
Victor turned his metallic face toward Batman.
The red light in his eye began flashing urgently.
“I told you not to scan my city, Victor.”
Thomas’s voice was low and threatening.
Even so, he visibly tensed and leaned forward.
“I wasn’t scanning restricted frequencies.”
“This information is already in public police reports and social media.”
Cyborg projected a hologram above the center of the table.
“The situation is strange.”
“On the central streets of Old Gotham…”
“In the Batmobile…”
“There’s a…”
“Batman?”