Last Daughter of Krypton: Legion IC

[ChasNicollette]

M'onel, VM3, GL 2261, Teen Lantern, Matter-Eater Lad, et al. Assembly Hall.

"In my language, the language of my home world, your name means He Who Wanders. And mine means Light to the Light," J'onn added.

"Oh," Lar Gand digested. And then his eyes widened. "Oh."

...and we emerged in the assembly hall close to J'onn.

To Wraith, J'onn said, "I appreciate your expediting the retrieval of everyone. The Legion is all but yet assembled."

...this was true, even The Academy Cadets were emerging from a portal, a number of The Subs were arranging themselves in seats. Sun Boy had swaggered in, more were arriving by the moment.

In armour ten centuries from the past, Jaymie squinted at the tall green drink of water. She leaned over to Liz and murmured in her ear. "This is Zhon?"

"J'onn." Liz nodded, the tiniest bit of a smirk on her lip, bemused to see him in all his glory out in the open like this. Not only that, but he had the Ring of a Blue Lantern, she was already feeling her power reserves blossom well above one hundred percent... "This is J'onn."

Jaymie paused. "He seems familiar. Like someone I almost saw once. Like I know him from a book I read? But I still don't know who that is."

Glancing briefly at her Ring, Liz noted a signal waiting. "I get the feeling you're about to."

"Yeah. So what's all the hub-bub about? Is Earth going to blow up or something?"

The Martian Manhunter gave a simple, slow shake of his green head.

"Not on my watch," he said.

Liz moved up beside him, and with the slightest puff of flight from her Ring, she levitated just far enough off the ground that she could kiss his cheek.

They were about to go public with his continued existence, what was a little bit of PDA amongst friends?

She smiled against his cheek before silking back to the floor, her voice a murmur in his head: I've got to check in with The Guardians. I'll try not to miss too much.

I like how you're accessorising.

And just between you and me? You smell really really good right now.

...and I don't say that to just anyone.

With a flourish, she took to the air, phasing through walls and doors and windows and she was gone, leaving a smouldering green contrail as an afterimage behind her.

Masked eyes wide, Rond stared after her. "(Guess she got the message.)"

Jaymie adjusted the goggles atop her head with one hand, and glanced at Wraith. "(I still don't know who that is.)"

...having transitioned from The Academy to the Assembly Hall, Tenzil Kem Junior smoothed down the front of his uniform, attempting somewhat foolishly to polish the white tooth that sat above his right breast like a badge of office.

Glancing around, he wondered why Aztek hadn't immediately followed him through the portal, he wondered if he should save his roomie a seat.

But then something more important caught his eye: cute brunette, way-way cute brunette.

Straightening his ever-present sunglasses, he moved to stand beside the elegant thing in the religiousy robes.

"So, hey," he greeted her, casually suave, completely oblivious to how on edge she was, gazing at the people onstage, and he launched into a fairer-sex conversational technique patented a thousand years earlier by no less than Hal Jordan himself. "Tenzil Kem. I'm here with a friend."

 

[Varshanka]

...having transitioned from The Academy to the Assembly Hall, Tenzil Kem Junior smoothed down the front of his uniform, attempting somewhat foolishly to polish the white tooth that sat above his right breast like a badge of office.

Glancing around, he wondered why Aztek hadn't immediately followed him through the portal, he wondered if he should save his roomie a seat.

But then something more important caught his eye: cute brunette, way-way cute brunette.

Watching as people arrived in various forms of travel. Some by shadow, or flashes of light. Slipping between there and here Transmat devices of some kind were in use. Either personal or mass transit. But some of them made the hairs on her neck stand on end, so they weren’t all technological in nature.
Watching as the latest arrival looked around, then headed in the direction of M’onel, she assumed, from his youthful appearance he was a Squire. Maybe an Acolyte. But far to old to be a Novice. Unless he started very late in his training. Very late.

Straightening his ever-present sunglasses, he moved to stand beside the elegant thing in the religiousy robes.

Shifting her weight Knight Lang of the House of Kent rested her hands lazily on the hilt of her blade. Her eyes tracking him, even as her posture indicated she was not even paying attention.

"So, hey," he greeted her, casually suave, completely oblivious to how on edge she was, gazing at the people onstage, and he launched into a fairer-sex conversational technique patented a thousand years earlier by no less than Hal Jordan himself. "Tenzil Kem. I'm here with a friend."[/QUOTE]

“Forsoth, thou doest speak wrongly. I besighted not any other arrive with thee. Thou dids’t arrive alone. Perchance I be mistaken, which of these fine Knights and Warriors be thine friend?” She asked, slipping back into courtly speech of Caerleon. After all, one could not speak as a commoner amoungst what the Vatican classified as powerful people.

“Perhaps Sir M’onel didst espy thee companion.” Allana suggested.

 

[Wyldfire]

Montauk

'Attention, all active and reserve Legionaries are to assemble in the Assembly Hall. Members on missions are to return at the earliest after completion, wounded members keep in contact via rings until released from sickbay. Retired members attend via comlink or ring. This is a full mustering of the Legion.'

The words were still echoing through the corridors of the academy as the five seniormost students looked one to the other. Jed was the first to say anything. "No sprocking way."

The others all moved as one leaving Jed Rikane standing in his towel. That didn't last though as he dropped the towel and grabbed his uniform from his bed on the way out. Dressing on the run wasn't the easiest thing the young man had ever done but he managed (mostly at least). Pants and boots he managed but he still had his shirt in his hand as Kent and Zoe handed rings to his roommates. When Jed reached out for his Kent arched an eye brow and pulled the hand holding the ring back. Jed got the idea and threw his shirt on and reached out again. This time Kent let him take the ring.

A spacial displacement portal quavered and shimmered in the air, vertical, as The Cadets hustled through to the Assembly Hall.

"C'mon, c'mon," the Vyrgan grumbled as he ushered them along. "Far be it from me to defy my rightful apparent place as a member of the slave class. Sprockin' vertebrates..."

Jed and the rest of his class passed through the portal quietly. Jed did take half a tic to think "At least you made the team."

He almost walked into Nightwind's back due to the fact that she'd stopped dead in her tracks. He started to give her some grife for stopping and stopped when he took in what she just had. This many Legionairres in one place was a really sprocking impressive sight.

No sign of Dawny (Oh no no no, he'd never imagine calling her that to her face, he knew better.), but he did see Caroline and he flushed at the first thoughts at the sight of her (Way, way out of his league. Not with her pedigree). At least she'd made it too.

Tenzil Kem Junior smoothed down the front of his uniform, attempting somewhat foolishly to polish the white tooth that sat above his right breast like a badge of office.

Then something more important caught his eye: cute brunette, way-way cute brunette.[/I]

Watching as people arrived in various forms of travel. Some by shadow, or flashes of light. Slipping between there and here Transmat devices of some kind were in use. Either personal or mass transit. But some of them made the hairs on her neck stand on end, so they weren’t all technological in nature.
Watching as the latest arrival looked around, then headed in the direction of M’onel, she assumed, from his youthful appearance he was a Squire. Maybe an Acolyte. But far too old to be a Novice. Unless he started very late in his training. Very late.

Straightening his ever-present sunglasses, he moved to stand beside the elegant thing in the religiousy robes.

Shifting her weight Knight Lang of the House of Kent rested her hands lazily on the hilt of her blade. Her eyes tracking him, even as her posture indicated she was not even paying attention.

"So, hey," he greeted her, casually suave, completely oblivious to how on edge she was, gazing at the people onstage, and he launched into a fairer-sex conversational technique patented a thousand years earlier by no less than Hal Jordan himself. "Tenzil Kem. I'm here with a friend."

“Forsooth, thou doest speak wrongly. I besighted not any other arrive with thee. Thou dids’t arrive alone. Perchance I be mistaken, which of these fine Knights and Warriors be thine friend?” She asked, slipping back into courtly speech of Caerleon. After all, one could not speak as a commoner amoungst what the Vatican classified as powerful people.

Oh bloody Nass. Go figure Kem'd be hitting on someone right dead in the middle of something this big. The larger purple hued youth moved over towards his fellow student. Time to pull his fat out of the plasma coils.

“Perhaps Sir M’onel didst espy thee companion.” Allana suggested.

Jed swung in at that point hoping the big gun didn't take this whole thing personally. "Actually Miss, I'm the friend he's here with, and I'm the friend that will take him to where he belongs. Come on Tenz, let's get back with the other students." He flashed his best "good ol' boy" grin at the stranger. "Tenzil here's just real friendly. Harmless but friendly."

 

[ChasNicollette]

Matter-Eater Lad. Assembly Hall.

“Forsooth, thou doest speak wrongly. I besighted not any other arrive with thee. Thou dids’t arrive alone. Perchance I be mistaken, which of these fine Knights and Warriors be thine friend?” She asked, slipping back into courtly speech of Caerleon. After all, one could not speak as a commoner amoungst what the Vatican classified as powerful people.

Sliding his sunglasses down his nose, Matter-Eater Lad stared blankly over them at the lovely lady. What th' flarg? Was his Flight Ring's autotranslator having a meltdown? "Well, he's, uh... forsooth, he should be-eth around here somewhence? ('Somewhence?' 'Somewhither?')"

On some level, Tenzil was aware of a large presence behind him, but natcherly he was more focused on the action-figure of a doll.

“Perhaps Sir M’onel didst espy thee companion.” Allana suggested.

Tenzil blinked. "What? Rrrrrun that by me one more time, something about The ESPY Awards?"

Jed swung in at that point hoping the big gun didn't take this whole thing personally. "Actually Miss, I'm the friend he's here with, and I'm the friend that will take him to where he belongs. Come on Tenz, let's get back with the other students."

Popping his sunglasses back up his nose, Tenzil glanced up at the big beefcake of a huckleberry. "Hey, Power Boy, did you know Asgard joined The United Planets? (She kind of sounds Asgardian to me.)"

He flashed his best "good ol' boy" grin at the stranger. "Tenzil here's just real friendly. Harmless but friendly."

Tenzil grinned at that, a lopsided grin that was more smirk than smile. "Really, really friendly. And, uh, only mostly harmless."

 

[ChasNicollette]

Wayne Mansion.

"Need to tell The Martian. The Martian and The Master."

The ghost grasped his cane, and shook his head. "If I know J'onzz, he's already cognisant. As for this 'Master' of yours?"

"Yes. Yes, he should know."

He wore black. Black slacks, a black turtleneck, black shoes. The only thing that wasn't black on his clothing was the old-fashioned analog watch on his wrist, whose strap and hands were a blood red.

He was the spitting image of his prime ancestor, another of those flukes of time and space and probability that The Doctor would call "spacial genetic multiplicity."

His name was Jason Damian Terrence Wayne.

He sat in the Library, fingers steepled before him. Thinking. Brooding.

On a small table in front of him sat a small Ring with an "L" on it which he had... acquired. At his sister Olivia's instructions, he'd injected masking systems that had prevented it from being detected on transponder scans, but it still received omnicom traffic.

And thus he was aware of the call to arms issued by The Legion only moments before.

And he was... intrigued.

The shadows shifted behind him, subtly and utterly silent, and yet his eyebrow twitched imperceptibly at his detecting this. He rose, and turned.

"Remnant," he greeted the youthsome woman who knelt before him, head bowed in utter reverence. "It's not like you to leave The Cave. Getting up here around the defences couldn't have been easy."

"Took time," The Remnant admitted. "Forgive the inefficiency."

Jason paused, and ran his tongue over his teeth. He'd learned about Carrie Brown-Drake from files in Batcave Secundus, beneath Wayne Manour in Historic Smallville. Her psychological profile had been... wanting. But she was not lacking in intelligence or training; perhaps her psychology could be coralled? Channeled?

They had never spoken to each other, but in his forays into Batcave Prime, he had felt her watching him.

"You are," and he hesitated to use this term, but he decided, for now, to adapt to her obsessiveness and the cultish fanaticism with which she'd been raised and trained, "forgiven. Rise. Sitrep."

The Remnant stood, her cape dusting around her boots.

Jason reflected that while the configuration of The Remnant's costume was primarily evocative of the original Spoiler, a hooded cape with a full face mask, eyes lensed in white, its colours were more that of a Robin, red and black and gold... though this version lacked the dash of Lincoln green worn by the original Robins.

She was an amalgam of her history. Descended from the third Robin and the first Spoiler-- herself also a Robin and a Batgirl --with a dash of McCrimmon blood, she carried with her a myriad of Bat legacies.

She even talked like a Question gone wrong.

"Cave received message," The Remnant reported. "Fabled hero Alan Scott at end of lifespan. Theoretically to disgorge Starheart. Worthy recipient required at Themysciran Museum of History."

Jason frowned slightly, ever-so-slightly and then nodded. "The best possible way to locate an inheritor to The Green Sentinel's legacy is to seek amongst the heroes of today. As it happens, The Legion of Superheroes has performed a summoning of all its members, perhaps to discuss a looming threat. We should bring this knowledge to them. And we should... offer our services."

The Remnant stood a little taller. "'Services?'"

Jason didn't quite smile. A shadow crossed his eyes. And a change came over his voice. "'Services.'"

 

[AmenRa]

J'onn J'onzz - Legion HQ

Liz moved up beside him, and with the slightest puff of flight from her Ring, she levitated just far enough off the ground that she could kiss his cheek.

They were about to go public with his continued existence, what was a little bit of PDA amongst friends?

A corner of J'onn's mouth curled into a slight smile when Liz planted her kiss on his cheek. He was not at all embarrassed by it. In fact, he welcomed it. A kiss from her was like a new day dawning, the sunrise bringing hope and warmth as it crested the horizon.

J'onn was in love with Liz. He had only loved one other, so long ago.

She smiled against his cheek before silking back to the floor, her voice a murmur in his head: I've got to check in with The Guardians. I'll try not to miss too much .

I will await your return, my love, he responded to her.

I like how you're accessorising.

The Martian Manhunter glanced at the Ring on his left hand and nodded almost imperceptively.

And just between you and me? You smell really really good right now.

...and I don't say that to just anyone.

I have a scent?
And then he realized what she meant.

Oh.
His red eyes locked onto her own.

Good enough to eat?

With a flourish, she took to the air, phasing through walls and doors and windows and she was gone, leaving a smouldering green contrail as an afterimage behind her.

 

[Varshanka]

He flashed his best "good ol' boy" grin at the stranger. "Tenzil here's just real friendly. Harmless but friendly."

Tenzil grinned at that, a lopsided grin that was more smirk than smile. "Really, really friendly. And, uh, only mostly harmless."

An eyebrow rose as Allana listened to the two youths speaking, both to her and each other. Sparing a flickering glance in M’onel’s direction she took a soft breath. There were times and places for interviewing new Squires, but this didn’t seem to be the time. Unless Earthers did things differently?

Returning her gaze to the young initiate she spoke. “Upon the completion of this gathering great speaketh thee shall speaketh more about a position within my camp. Hast thou partaken of battle? Art though pursuint at thine skill of blade and war? Art thou an Acolyte, a Novice, Bannerette Knight, Page, or hast thou forsaken a previous Knight? Thinketh upon these questions mine, for answers though must giveth.”

Meeting his eyes, she continued. “And if though doest lie. I will knowest this.” She finished, a glow emanating from within her. A glow that spoke of a fiery light. A power seldom tapped. A power that should always be respected. A glow that shone in her eyes, turning them to a golden amber. A glow that looked into the soul of a living being, and cast judgement.

“For now, thou shalt be silent, and we will hear the words of the Legion Master. Oh, and I am not Harmless.”

 

[ChasNicollette]

Lightning Lad, Brainiac 5, Kid Quantum. En route.

Garth boarded the lift and keyed for The Assembly Hall, mind a-swim with nerves and ozone.

But as the lift wsssshed shut a startlingly-quick limb snipped into place between the doors, protected by a shimmering blue light.

The doors popped open again, and Brainiac Five stepped in, wearing both his lab coat and his force-field belt, PD3 out in his hand. As he turned to face the door, standing pretty much shoulder-to-shoulder with Lightning Lad, he disengaged the field.

Garth arched an eyebrow. "Dude. You copasetic? I thought you maybe had a hull breach there for a second."

Brainiac did not immediately respond. He instead tapped several icons on the device in his hand, confirming the crossload of his analysis of the transmission, confirming that it had been delivered safely to Shvaughn's Gear server grid.

Having done this, he pocketed the PD3, straightened his lab coat.

"I still function."

"Ohhhhkay," Garth nodded, though he still seemed dubious. "If you say so."

The lift opened wide and they strode out into the hallway, only to be met by Kid Quantum falling into step behind them.

"I told Cos I needed quiet time," she noted. "To call me if something exploded. I hope this qualifies, Garth."

Garth took one glance at the haunted, guarded look on the normally unflappable Brainiac Five, and Lightning Lad smiled a grim little smile.

"Trust me on this."

As they entered The Assembly Hall, Jazmin frowned. "Hold on. I don't recognise that species. Not to mention the quantum energy signature on that ring of his--"

"I do," Querl assured her, his voice sounding mechanical even for him, as though he hadn't even registered Caroline's normally-soothing presence. "You'll want to sit down for this. (Here, there's some spots next to Sun Boy.)"

He glanced up at the holographic Oracle mask serving as Gear's avatar.

"Erin. Looks good on you."

And then, as Garth and Jazmin sat, so did he.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Matter-Eater Lad. Assembly Hall.

An eyebrow rose as Allana listened to the two youths speaking, both to her and each other. Sparing a flickering glance in M’onel’s direction she took a soft breath.

Returning her gaze to the young initiate she spoke. “Upon the completion of this gathering great speaketh thee shall speaketh more about a position within my camp. Hast thou partaken of battle? Art though pursuint at thine skill of blade and war? Art thou an Acolyte, a Novice, Bannerette Knight, Page, or hast thou forsaken a previous Knight? Thinketh upon these questions mine, for answers though must giveth.”

Behind his sunglasses, Tenzil's eye twitched. "Uhm. I think the only word I understood in that was 'position.' But I've never forsaken anyone in my life. Not even Polar Boy when he almost got expelled that time. (It was a trumped-up thing, we sorted it out.)"

Meeting his eyes, she continued. “And if though doest lie. I will knowest this.” She finished, a glow emanating from within her. A glow that spoke of a fiery light. A power seldom tapped. A power that should always be respected. A glow that shone in her eyes, turning them to a golden amber. A glow that looked into the soul of a living being, and cast judgement.

Matter-Eater Lad tried to take a step back, his eyes wide in their sockets, but only succeeded in bumping into the immovable indigo mass that was Power Boy. "(Jumping fish-hooks!)"

Something about that lady was as scary as the pits of Tartarus. Gorgeous, but scary. He'd seen incandescent people before, but this took it to a whole 'nother level.

Kinda gives the phrase 'hotter than hell' a new meaning, huh?

But, before he could quip again: “For now, thou shalt be silent, and we will hear the words of the Legion Master. Oh, and I am not Harmless.”

Nodding helplessly, not daring speak, he agreed with all of this.

And then held up his hand by his ear, thumb and pinky extended in a traditional hand-sign of Terran yore. And mouthed, silent as she'd told him to be, two words: 'Call me.'

 

[ChasNicollette]

Green Lantern 2261. The Guardians and The Fists thereof. Assembly Hall, Legion Plaza.

I have a scent?

In reply, she only winked at him.

And then he realized what she meant.

Oh.
His red eyes locked onto her own.

Good enough to eat?

Listen to you. You've gotten cheeky in the last couple of centuries...

But to answer your question?

...yes. Very much so.

With a flourish, she took to the air, phasing through walls and doors and windows and she was gone, leaving a smouldering green contrail as an afterimage behind her.

A mere moment later, she touched down in Legion Plaza, before the three silvery robotic statues.

With an almost inaudible whirr, they awoke, green eyes lighting up, palms opening, those three Guardians materialising in projection form, live via satellite.

"Scan verification," one of The Fists intoned: "Elizabeth Kara Greystone, Green Lantern 2261."

"Online," Elizabeth assented easily. "How may I be of service?"

'Cease talking,' the first Guardian grimaced, as much as a Guardian ever grimaced. 'Merely listen.'

Her eyebrow quirking just a bit, Liz obeyed.

'In order to replenish your reserves on the battlefield,' the second Guardian supplied, 'you mimicked one of a Lantern's greatest failures at the very moment of his fall from grace.'

'Rather than signal us that we might supply him with a Ring, as instructed,' the first Guardian appended, 'you deputised Rond Vidar and took him to the battlefront, without training, without indoctrination, risking the life of an untried asset.'

The second Guardian appeared to... scrutinise her. 'And far be it from us to point out that your centuries of service to The Green Lantern Corps have been lauded because of your ability to master your own emotions, Fear and Avarice and Rage, to be unwavering in your Will. There have been exceptions, of course, few and far between, your dalliance with that Tamaranean prince, not long before The Battle of Sanctuary...'

Liz' eyes gleamed at that-- Alyxand'r --and she was not repentant, but she did not interrupt.

'But now again,' the second Guardian continued, 'your aura has taken on a distinct... Violet underhue. This is no time to allow yourself to become... distracted.'

The third Guardian spoke up for the first time in all of this: 'And now... we will allow her to explain.'

The other two Guardians nodded, conceding.

And Liz stood up straight and stood up tall. "Thank you."

Crossing her arms over her stomach, she began: "Tapping Vidar was an executive decision on my part. My approach was unconventional, but in my estimation the true measure of a man's courage is measured not only in peacetime or in wartime but in both; I had scanned Vidar with my Ring and looked into his eyes and seen in him the capacity to overcome Fear, and knew that he had what it would take, but I would be remiss in my duties if I ignored a chance to stress-test him at the same time.

"Kyle Rayner," she continued, "received the Ring at a time where no training could ever come, and yet he became The Torchbearer, a legend, surpassing even Jordan in his own way. I merely combined the formality of the procedural approach with the fiery baptism of that which transpired with Rayner.

"Punching your venerable projection in the face," Liz further explained, "was disrespectful, and I do apologise. But time was very much of the essence. I know that you know that The Emerald Empress is nothing to be trifled with; she succeeded in turning my own Ring-Power against me. Rather than permit myself to be cowed or indecisive in the face of that enemy, I took action. Green Lanterns are nothing without the Will to act.

"And, yes," she acknowledged, "I am in Love."

She smiled. An actual genuine beaming smile. "I'm in Love with J'onn J'onzz, greatest of The Manhunters of Mars, after whose unfailing code of truth and justice and courage you patterned your attempts at lawgiving three billion years ago. If I am to love anyone, would you not have it be a being who epitomises the values you hold as Gospel?"

The first two Guardians hesitated at this. The third arched an eyebrow. 'J'onn J'onzz... is alive?'

Liz nodded, eyes alight. "Not only that. He's a Blue Lantern. Obviously, your brother Ganthet approves of him."

The three Guardians looked very nearly... startled... by this.

'How can this be?' the second Guardian demanded of no-one in particular, incredulous. 'I know that The Blue Lantern Corps was sundered at Sanctuary, even more thoroughly than The Green, and yet they are still capable of recruitment from afar? Without the esteemed Mogo, we have been reliant upon The Doctor's artificial singularity, but this lacks conscience, how could The Blue Lantern Corps--?'

"I am unfamiliar with the mechanism of his recruitment," Liz shook her head. "But know this. Once upon a time, romance between Corpsmen, especially those of different colours, was frowned upon, verboten. But since then, we have learned what strength there is in combining our Lights, especially on what you yourselves have called The Darkest of Days. And I will combine my Light with his. I Will."

A fainter version of her earlier, bright bright smile wafted across her lips. "And I submit to you that Rond Vidar is ready for field-training. He should receive a proper Ring. If you're going to take me off of his training detail for that little matter of popping one of your holographic representations in the nose, now's the time to tell me."

The Guardians exchanged again a singular, unreadable look.

And then The Fists of The Guardians began to levitate, and to sail aloft.

'Tell Rond Vidar that his Ring is forthcoming.'

And in a coruscation of Green light, they were gone.

Liz sighed softly, and shook her head tolerantly. "You're welcome."

 

[Varshanka]

Magdalena - Conference Hall

But, before he could quip again: “For now, thou shalt be silent, and we will hear the words of the Legion Master. Oh, and I am not Harmless.”

Nodding helplessly, not daring speak, he agreed with all of this.

And then held up his hand by his ear, thumb and pinky extended in a traditional hand-sign of Terran yore. And mouthed, silent as she'd told him to be, two words: 'Call me.'

Shifting her thumb, Allana bared a quarter inch of spell sword in anticipation of his intended strike. But then he waggled his fingers next to his head and mouth two words. ‘Kill me.’ He seemed to be saying. Was he a lunatic?

As he turned and moved away she sank her blade back into her scabbard, her gaze turning to M’onel. “Cans’t thou explain thine actions of yon being, Sir Knight?” She asked, shifting her bare feet on the cold floor, warming the surface contact with a half thought.

“Tis actions portray one of an addled minded fool. Perchance he be ill?” She hypothesized. She would relieve him of his misery, if such he was. Although she was forbidden to kill, there were other ways of doing such a thing.

Although killing him would probably be kinder. But perhaps after the Gathering of Legion Master, and the speech of the Grandmaster, she would speak more with the youth and discover his mental cohesion. Although hopefully she’d be wearing her armour, and have full access to it’s medical database.

 

[ChasNicollette]

The Remnant, Batman 3010, Tomorrow Woman. Wayne Manour, Smallville: Batcave Secundus.

Thomas Wayne had been a shrewd man. His associations with Veritos and with The Remnant had been both mysterious and calculated.

He had bought a house in Smallville, Kansas nigh-identical to his ancestral home in Gotham City, Illinois' Heights district, apparently because they had been designed by the same architect.

But he hadn't just owned the houses.

He'd owned the caves underneath.

Blue-white light shattered the darkness, the bats above shifting uneasily in the subterranean darkness.

And when the light cleared, Jason Wayne stood there, his fingertips poised over the face of his watch, and beside him stood The Remnant.

"Fascinating," Carrie mused, glancing about, the walls of this chamber of this Cave not natural rock but gleaming, silversteely metal, sleek but dimpled with uncountable impressions. "The Batcave is a franchise."

Jason tried not to smile at that. "Actually, Gotham City proper contained numerous bolt-holes that could be called auxiliary Batcaves, not the least of which was beneath Wayne Tower itself. But when he worked, he only ever really called two of them home."

Striding towards the middle of the room, Jason led the mystified guardian deeper into mystery. "Here. Let me introduce you to the family."

At various points throughout the room, robotic arms with laserlight emitters scrolled their rays up and down the walls, moving meticulously, varying their patterns like archaeologists attempting to decipher hieroglyphics.

There were also bays for working on vehicles, equipment, and a row of glass columns containing... uniforms.

In the centre of the room sat a striking young lady with arctic-white hair and lavender eyes, her gaze filtered by golden-tinted frameless glasses. Around her were various workstations, holographic displays both two- and three-dimensional. Data scrolled by at a fantastic rate. Some of this data represented half-finished work projects in those various bays; the rest of it seemed to match the scrolling investigations of those robotic arms.

"This," Jason prompted, "is Olivia Leslie Shondra Wayne, codenamed 'Tomorrow Woman.' She is my Alfred, my Harold, and my Oracle. More importantly, she's my sister. She's single-handedly responsible for updating Batman technology to beyond the current cutting edge. Simultaneously, vast stores of knowledge have been encoded into vibranium plates installed in the walls of this Cave, right down to the molecular level. A time capsule left to us over the centuries, like a roadmap to the history of superheroes. Harnessing this knowledge has been key to resurrecting The Mantle."

Olivia arched a starkly-white eyebrow. "I see you've made a friend, Jay. And here I thought you needed to get out more, all you had to do was poke around in the basement."

Jason half-grinned. "Har-har. You two trade witty quips at my expense; I'll be right back."

He strolled off.

Carrie watched him go for a moment, and then returned her attention to Olivia. "The Master has more of a sense of humour than expected."

Olivia fixed Carrie with a dubious expression. "He'd also have to muffle a chuckle at your calling him 'Master.'"

Carrie digested that with narrowed eyes. "Hurm."

Olivia relented faintly, though her fingers never slowed over the touchkeys. "I suppose it's hard to tell a joke from a straight remark when you've spent most of your chronological life asleep in what amounts to The Bat-Family's Mausoleum at Halicarnassus."

Carrie tilted her head, and admitted: "Yes."

Olivia's lip twitched a bit. "All the same. You're programmed, brain, muscle, bone and soul... you're programmed to defend and uphold The Mantle of The Bat? I'll be honest. It'll be good to have someone like that keeping an eye on my brother."

The Remnant processed that for a moment, unmoving and eerily expressionless behind that full face-mask. "I am that eye. Should he need it."

Olivia chuckled faintly, rerunning the protocol that analysed Sector G47-Niner of the Cave wall, scrutinising the results. "He's got training. He's got resources. He's got drive. But he doesn't have as much real-world experience as I'd like. Granted, you're not really much in the way of real-world yourself, but between the two of you?"

Carrie nodded.

She glanced down at her hand, opened it, revealing the Legion Flight Ring that Jason had pressed into her palm before engaging his personal teleporter.

"Query," she expressed.

"Shoot," nodded Olivia agreeably.

"This ring," The Remnant reflected. "LSH is, according to net link-system, 'a relatively nascent organisation.' Additionally: The Flight Ring is unique and newfound technology. Why then does this Ring show signs of extensive aging? HUD readouts suggest that valorium alloy has undergone half-lives consistent with thousand-year lifespan. Still functional; built to last. But old."

Olivia smiled softly. "Actually, that Ring hasn't even been made yet, not officially. But it will be. In order to prevent a temporal discrepancy, Brainiac Five of The Legion will shortly bring a Flight Ring to 21st-Century Earth, bestowing it upon time-travelling would-be superhero Booster Gold. After Booster's death, it was buried with him in a hypersecure cemetery reserved for Gotham City's superheroes. Not long ago, Jason retrieved it so that I could adapt its technology to his latest uniform."

A shadow loomed behind The Remnant, and she turned, she turned to see him.

Suited up, tugging his mask into place.

"Speaking of which," he rumbled.

The Remnant trembled. As though in the presence of The Second Coming.

"You're... you're really him."

"What was it the man said?" Batman replied. "'I'll do the job, until I die or you find someone better.'"

Carrie pondered this, and took it as wisdom. Her career-path was similar. "Of course."

"Hang on to that Ring," Batman suggested. "It'll come in handy. Besides, it's an antique."

Carrie nodded, and placed the Ring in her utility belt. "I am good with antiques."

He glanced at Olivia, who had turned away from her workstation to gaze at the two of them. "So, you're, what, just going to teleport into Legion HQ and muscle your way onto the team?"

"Yes to the first part," Batman replied. "As for the second part? Well, we'll think of something."

He moved to touch a key camouflaged into his suit's wrist. "Wish us luck."

Olivia arched an eyebrow. And turned back to her workstation.

Batman harrumphed, amused, and touched the key. Blue-white light shattered the semi-darkness, and a horde of bats, this time bothered beyond tolerance, beat leathery wings against the night and swirled around the stalactites.

Olivia sat there quietly for a moment, and rubbed the bridge of her nose, worried sick though she'd never admit it.

"Good luck."

 

[ChasNicollette]

Matter-Eater Lad, M'onel. Assembly Hall.

Shifting her thumb, Allana bared a quarter inch of spell sword in anticipation of his intended strike.

Capable of taking a hint... eventually... Matter-Eater Lad cottoned that he wasn't wanted, and pivoted dramatically, clapping Jed on the hard-to-reach tough-as-tungsten shoulder. "Right, then. You said something about 'other students?'"

As he turned and moved away she sank her blade back into her scabbard, her gaze turning to M’onel. “Cans’t thou explain thine actions of yon being, Sir Knight?” She asked, shifting her bare feet on the cold floor, warming the surface contact with a half thought.

M'onel, still trying to process the implications of an ancient, power-exuding being who knew the Martian translation of his codename and apparently bore the same name, speaking of translations, as Raya Ro-Zan's old friend... he took a moment to register the presence of the beautiful creature with the techchanted blade.

"What?" he blinked, glancing down at her. "Who?"

And then looked up, narrowing his eyes. "Wait. The Kem kid? What's he done this time?"

“Tis actions portray one of an addled minded fool. Perchance he be ill?” She hypothesized.

"Oh," M'onel grunted, seeming almost... relieved. "No, he's... he's just kind of a lateral thinker, is all. I'm told every historical superhero team worth its salt had at least one. Or it could just be something he ate? Caught one too many bullets in his teeth during powers practice? Hard to say, really."

M'onel paused. "If he's been genuinely bothering you, I know where his dad works."

 

[ChasNicollette]

Batman 3010, The Remnant, GL 2261. Legion Plaza.

The technology integrated into this new Batman's uniform was as bleeding edge as he and his sister could manage. But it was not without its limits. Take the teleport function, f'rinstance. Perhaps interestingly, it had similar limitations to Wraith's own ability to transit from place to place.

A small step, unobstructed line-of-sight, this was quick, this was easy, relatively instantaneous, relatively little fanfare.

But a giant leap, this got dicier. Targeting, stabilisation, coordinates got shaky when dealing with the curvature of The Earth. Thus, best bets were to set down in wide, relatively unoccupied areas. Like, say, just off the workfloor of Batcave Secundus.

Or, for the sake of argument, the wide wide square adjoining Legion Headquarters.

Simultaneously, a jump of such power, particularly with a passenger, sacrificed a modicum of stealth.

Thus, when the blue-white light flashed bright, and Batman and The Remnant materialised in place...

...before they'd even taken stock of their surroundings they had a Green Lantern Ring pointed at them, Liz Greystone having whirled from her affectionate sarcastic send-off to The Fists and their Guardians and leveled The Most Powerful Weapon in The Universe at a possible new threat.

To his credit, Jason didn't bat an eyelid.

"We come in peace?" he attempted.

"Take us to your leader," The Remnant supplied immediately thereafter.

Liz' shadowcrest eyes darted from one pastiche to the other, and immediately experienced a turned-about sort of deja vu. She'd known Batman. The original Batman. And her Red Raven had been a Robin, of sorts.

"The leader's a bit preoccupied right now," Liz replied, not unreasonably. "But if you'd care to leave a message?"

Jason began to speak again, but with surprising clarity, The Remnant beat him to it: "We seek The Martian. Let him look into our hearts and see us as worthy of his time."

She then turned to Batman: "Assume you have Brainwave-derived telepathic defense circuitry? Disengage."

Batman opened his mouth, and shut it again, he had all sorts of antidetection gear in his getup's setup, life-sign obfuscation that could deceive even a Kryptonian's senses, and-- "Yes. How'd you know?"

The Remnant looked at him expressionlessly, but gave the impression that this answer should have been obvious. "You're Batman."

Arching an eyebrow at this motley pair, and, keeping her Ring hand between herself and the duo, Liz touched her right hand's fingers to her forehead.

J'onn.

There's someone here to see you.

...two someones, in fact.

Be a dear and make sure they're on the level, would you?

 

[AmenRa]

The Martian Manhunter

Arching an eyebrow at this motley pair, and, keeping her Ring hand between herself and the duo, Liz touched her right hand's fingers to her forehead.

J'onn.

There's someone here to see you.

...two someones, in fact.

Be a dear and make sure they're on the level, would you?

The sudden intrusion of thought was a welcome touch, even if it did carry a note of urgency with it. J'onn looked around him briefly and nodded to those that had gathered.

"I shall return," he informed them. And then he faded from view, moving intangibly and swiftly through walls and floors until he re-materialized beside Liz and the two newcomers.

And J'onn J'onzz of Mal'ecand'ra stopped still and stared. The Blue Ring he wore began to thrum with flashes of power.

He turned to Liz, a brow over his left eye arcing slightly. He turned his head back to the two who stood before him. One of them he recognized from his visit to the Batcave not too terribly long ago.

And the other?

Clothed similiarly to an old friend, this one appeared different. Indeed, J'onn J'onzz recognized the cape and cowl and the shape on the chest, but still, this one he did not know.

J'onn reached up and lightly covered Liz's ring hand with his own, the Blue and the Green becoming a deadly barrier of Will against any threat that might reveal itself from what he was about to do.

The Martian's eyes flared red and continued their eerie glow as he sent out a powerful wave of telepathic energy. Even if this Batman was carrying telepathic defense circuitry, it would have shorted had it not been disengaged, for no power but that of Wraith could resist the mind of the Martian Manhunter.

In the instant J'onn's mind connected with Jayson's, the Manhunter knew all. And, similarly, Jason knew him. Images of the Justice League would transfer across the telepathic conduit, and still-frame mental photos of J'onn J'onzz and Bruce Wayne would play across Jayson's mind.

As for Carrie, J'onn already knew all he needed to know of her.

J'onn severed the link almost as quickly as he had initiated it, the reading of Jayson's pshyche having taken only a millisecond for a lifetime of memories.

"It appears the Remnant does indeed have a Master after all," J'onn said. His ring hand still holding Liz's, he slowly lowered her hand, silently reassuring her that all was well.

The Martian Manhunter took a step forward, and in solemn greeting he offerred The Batman his hand.

 

[Varshanka]

Magdalena speaketh with M'onel

“Tis actions portray one of an addled minded fool. Perchance he be ill?” She hypothesized.

"Oh," M'onel grunted, seeming almost... relieved. "No, he's... he's just kind of a lateral thinker, is all. I'm told every historical superhero team worth it's salt had at least one. Or it could just be something he ate? Caught one too many bullets in his teeth during powers practice? Hard to say, really."

M'onel paused. "If he's been genuinely bothering you, I know where his dad works."

“His, Father?” Allana asked. “Thou desirest me to speaketh with his Ecclesiarch mentor?” Although an usual request, it would be a logical one if he was an Acolyte of a Holy Order. Abandoned or Orphaned. Raised by an Order of Monks, or Knights he would of course have a Father Confessor, or A member of the Order he respected and consider a Mentor.

“If thou believeth that is wise, then yes. I will commune with thine Holiness after the meeting when temporis is agreeable.” Looking across the gathering of peoples she watched as the Master of the Legion, or at least someone she guessed was rather important walked out a side door. One that lead towards the main foyer.

 

[ChasNicollette]

M'onel. Assembly Hall.

“His, Father?” Allana asked. “Thou desirest me to speaketh with his Ecclesiarch mentor?”

"His. Wait, his what?"

M'onel squinted at her, as if he could use his Daxamite microvision to make sure that Allana was still suffering from a language barrier issue and wasn't just sprocking with him for giggles.

I wish Ayla were here, he decided, remembering her translating ecclesiastic terminology for him in the lobby when Allana had first arrived.

“If thou believeth that is wise, then yes. I will commune with thine Holiness after the meeting when temporis is agreeable.”

"It's kind of a," he started, then stopped. "Do you mean 'priest?' M-E Lad's priest? I'm not sure if he--"

M'onel paused. "His roommate's a monk, does that help? Other than that, Element Lad's sort of the unofficial Legion chaplain."

M'onel glanced around quickly. "(Neither of whom are here either, awesome, so much for translators.)"

Rubbing the back of his head, he tried again: "But really, I meant-- his father, his actual biological progenitor. He works in the kitchen. I guarantee you he'd make a better sandwich than the autobutler."

 

[ChasNicollette]

Yesterdays. And Todays. And Tomorrows.

J'onn looked around him briefly and nodded to those that had gathered.

"I shall return," he informed them. And then he faded from view...

("Sweet, see you in a bit," Garth saluted the empty place where J'onn had stood. Then he swung his gaze around to look at Sun Boy. "Who was that guy, again?"

Sun Boy just shrugged and went back to trying to catch Princess Projectra's eye.

Kid Quantum whipped her gaze around to Brainiac, golden eyes wide. "His molecular structure-- invisibility and intangibility-- did you see that?"

Brainiac rubbed the bridge of his nose, as though a migraine were building. "Yes, yes, he's the sprocking greatest green species ever."

M'onel glanced away from Allana to find The Mystery Martian gone gone gone.

"...huh."

"It's been that kind of day," Rond Vidar found himself agreeing.

Jaymie quietly maintained her calm. "(I still don't know who that was.)")

...J'onn J'onzz of Mal'ecand'ra stopped still and stared. The Blue Ring he wore began to thrum with flashes of power.

He turned to Liz, a brow over his left eye arcing slightly.

Liz met his gaze, her face subtly expressionable, primarily a mask of controlled feeling but sufficient for J'onn to read: I know, right?

She shrugged her right shoulder; clearly she didn't know what to think.

He turned his head back to the two who stood before him.

J'onn reached up and lightly covered Liz's ring hand with his own, the Blue and the Green becoming a deadly barrier of Will against any threat that might reveal itself from what he was about to do.

Were a single Lantern to attempt wearing both a Blue and Green Ring at the same time, they would short each other out and become useless until one or the other were removed. But two Lanterns separately combining Blue and Green Light became a two-pronged force of nearly insurmountable power, inspiring Hope and banishing Fear.

Also, it was very nice to hold hands with J'onn J'onzz. Very nice indeed.

Again, Liz' face was nigh unreadable. But a sufficiently observant creature would detect... satisfaction... and delight.

The Martian's eyes flared red and continued their eerie glow as he sent out a powerful wave of telepathic energy. Even if this Batman was carrying telepathic defense circuitry, it would have shorted had it not been disengaged, for no power but that of Wraith could resist the mind of the Martian Manhunter.

...this was true. The Brainwave circlet incorporated into this Batman's mask was sufficient to repel the telepathy of Pale Martians, as they lacked the focus and determination of the last living Green Martian, the will to see things through rather than froth and bay with frustration and barely-fettered rage. Such circuitry might do well against a Titanian, even an Alpha-class, provided such a telepath wasn't wearing a psi-amp.

But J'onn was very old, and very experienced, and very, very powerful.

He was the last of his kind. There was a reason for that.

And thus it was fortunate that Jason had, upon Carrie's advice, disengaged that defence.

One of the chapters in the great story engraved on the wall of Batcave Secundus was the legendary meeting of The Angel Zauriel with the Batman of The 853rd Century... the latter-day Batman had unmasked himself, implored the onetime Guardian Angel to look into his eyes, into his soul, to know that he and his fellow members of Justice Legion A were not threats but allies to the present-day Justice League.

This was the same. A meeting of legends. A meeting of minds. Across the void of history.

And for the single moment that J'onzz' mind intersected with Wayne's, Jason found himself filled with a profound sense of... belonging.

In the instant J'onn's mind connected with Jayson's, the Manhunter knew all. And, similarly, Jason knew him. Images of the Justice League would transfer across the telepathic conduit, and still-frame mental photos of J'onn J'onzz and Bruce Wayne would play across Jayson's mind.

There he was, in The Martian's brain, a shadow flickering amongst shadows, and there Jason saw the legend that had begun it all. The driven, nearly demonic man, capable of wearing masks inside and out, layers of persona nearly as telepathically inscrutable as a Brainwave-circlet, and yet born of such human circumstance as a lonely little boy lost in the dark.

He had had comrades. He had had friends. J'onn, this Martian, this was one of these.

There was an instant of three people sitting in a restaurant in Tokyo, discussing the direction they were taking next. A golden-haired creature of all-surpassing beauty, a similarly exquisite creature of Asian extraction, and Bruce Wayne.

Standing together against garden-variety thugs and against The End of All Things.

Jason suddenly felt like he'd known The Martian his whole life...

J'onn severed the link almost as quickly as he had initiated it, the reading of Jayson's pshyche having taken only a millisecond for a lifetime of memories.

...his whole, interesting life.

********​

Less than a minute old.​

'Look at him,' Leilani 'Leia' Wayne murmured wearily, happily, to her husband Thom. 'Look at what we made. Look at what we did.'

Using his thumb to push the hair back from Jason's infant forehead, Thom agreed: 'We did good.'

2 years and 4 days old.​

Newborn Olivia lay sleeping in an incubator pod, fitfully shifting.

Thom Wayne stood behind and beside young Jason, a hand on his son's shoulder, dark rings under his eyes.

'Your sister's very sick,' Thom explained, his voice thick. 'Your mother's resting. They'll both be okay, but-- Olivia. Your new baby sister. We need your help to take care of her.'

Quiet and thoughtful, Jason looked up at his father and then back at his sister. At this point in his young life, he wasn't sure what the big deal was with this funny little pink prune with the purply eyes.

10 years, 7 months, and 21 hours old.​

His dad was on the omnicom of the family cruiser, shouting at someone, he couldn't make out all of it from the cabin. Silver metal gleamed everywhere, including in his mother's hand.

His mother was practising fencing with him, and he wasn't doing so hot. Sparks flew as her blade knocked his aside yet again.

'You need to focus, Jay,' Leia chided.

Jason shook his head. 'Is Dad okay?'

'It's my medical bills,' Olivia murmured, sitting in her hoverchair off to the side of the cabin, paging through some old book or another. 'Warp-drive fuel costs, flying me to Quarantine Station and all these specialists, paying for genetic and cybernetic grafts that my metabolism keeps rejecting. I'm too expensive.'

Leia paled. 'No, sweetie, no-one's saying that, no-one's said that but you, how could you even think that?'

'It's true, though,' Olivia declared, her face expressionless, her voice eerily even. 'Dad's having to sell what's left of Wayne-Powers. And he's trying to get a fair shake and not get sprocked over. He's trying to keep the houses.'

Leia let her foil-tip ping against the deck as she let it drop. 'Language, honey.'

But she didn't attempt to contradict.

Jason's head was spinning, he couldn't figure this out, he held a hand to his brow. 'Wait, what?'

Olivia swung her gaze back down to her book, turned another page. 'Also, your defensive stance is total spet.'

Jason reddened. 'How would you know? You never even stood before!'

Leia thundered: 'JASON!'

But Olivia was completely unflappable. 'I pay attention. That's all. You should try it.'

Throwing down his foil, fuming, Jason sprinted from the room, running to the bridge where his father stood bellowing at the vidscreen: 'No. Leland. You're not listening. You never listen! I am not, and will never enter into dealings with you; your holdings are far too suspect for me to trust a thousand-year legacy to you, your workmanship cheap and shoddy, your advertising full of falsehood. My lawyers and accountants are offering a sellout package to Brande in the morning, they're just waiting on my final go-ahead.'

'Very well,' a voice replied to Thom Wayne, the ultimate snake oil salesman. 'I rather suspected you'd be like this. Traditionally, the Waynes have been reasonable men, I had held out hope that you'd listen to reason.'

'Just this once,' Wayne declared, standing up tall, taking a deep breath. 'The Waynes are going to listen to faith rather than reason. And I have faith in R.J. Brande.'

Jason burned with pride, he didn't understand what was happening, not really, but he knew his dad was taking a stand, and he was glad to be that man's son.

Leland McCauley leaned into the camera, and smiled thinly, then seemed to glance at someone unseen, and nod. Returning his attention to Thom Wayne, McCauley continued his thin smile. 'Whereabouts are you, now, anyway, Thom? I imagine you're somewhere near... Lythyl?'

Thom frowned. 'Yes. The navicomp recommended a shortcut, and we needed to conserve fuel. How could you possibly know that?'

McCauley simply laughed. And killed the connection.

An explosion rocked the cruiser, screens went mad, Thom hurtled sideways, Jason banged his head. Smoke started to fill the cruiser, and sprawling over the console, Thom started to wheeze and choke, holding his bleeding side, gouged on a manual control yoke.

His eyes were dark as he locked his gaze onto his son.

'Your sister,' he hissed, 'your mother. You need to-- go!'

Obeying his father for perhaps the first time without stopping to question, Jason wheeled around and sprinted back down the corridor.

There were men in the cabin. Men in black masks and sleek black outfits, wearing ornate designs that looked like East Asian myth.

Three of them were fighting her mother with swords.

She had both fencing foils in her hands and she was fighting back, ripping a cheek open, bashing a blade away, she was furious, an angry Mama Bear, but their weapons were forged according to ancient mystic practice and hers were simply for practice.

The men cut through her defences and cut Leia down without thought.

She died without screaming. She simply went.

Olivia's impossibly unshakable emotionlessness had shattered, she was crying, a man in black had her by her lovely brown hair, he'd dragged her out of her hoverchair onto the floor, her lavender eyes were ringed red with panic, she was helpless.

Jason roared in wordless fury and sprinted for her he had to take care of her--

--the man simply backhanded him to the floor, the strike felt like his world had splintered, his head was ringing, he couldn't get up.

Jason stared into Olivia's eyes across the floor of the cabin, both of them defeated. And silently, they each apologised. For everything.

Out of a billow of smoke strode another man in black, wearing a gasmask over his face, this one wasn't dressed like a ninja but like a businessman, he carried a cane with a silver top, his silvery hair and his haggard face spoke of terrible age but he still moved like he was made of wire.

He didn't speak. He simply took a plasma grenade from his belt and pelted it down the hall towards the bridge. The cruiser shook again. Thom Wayne was gone.

The fighters in black seemed to cower at this new man's approach, at his presence.

He took one look at the two children, gestured to them with the cane, a sharp beckon.

The men took hold of the children and Jason remembered nothing more.

10 years, 7 months, and 2 days old.​

Jason struggled to remain conscious as he found himself dragged across the marble floor of a cavernous chamber, dragged by the mysterious tall man in black towards an archaic throne whose occupant seemed wreathed in darkness.

The man in black had taken off his gasmask, but his beard, all of silver, obscured most of his face. His eyes, however, were piercing, and soulless.

The occupant of the throne leaned forward out of the shadows, but somehow his face remained primarily in darkness. A hint of white, just the tiniest hint, peeked out of the black of his own beard. A bejeweled eyepatch glinted in the darkness, covering his right eye, but the rest of his face, this stayed in shadow.

'Look at this prize,' the enthroned ruler declared. 'What have you brought me, Henri?'

'My Lord,' the man called Henri replied, 'this is the direct descendant of Bruce Anthony Thomas Wayne, the spoils of war. The League of Shadows received free rein to do with the children of The Wayne Family, part of our contract in slaying their parents.'

This 'Lord' settled back into his throne, apparently bemused. 'And you seek... what? To redeem your greatest failure in my eyes? To turn this waif into the antithesis of our greatest foe? What guarantee have you that he will not turn against you as did his predecessor?'

'We have his sister, my Lord,' Henri replied. 'We will hold her as ransom. She suffers a rare genetic anomaly, a crippling, degenerative infection. It cannot be cured by any medicine yet discovered, but we can make her... comfortable, slow the process, keep her alive. And if young Jason obeys our every command, becomes a Shadow body and soul, we will grant her the restorative that is The Lazarus Pit.'

Henri's Lord pondered this for a moment, and then turned his attention to the woozy child. 'What say you, boy?'

Struggling to lift his head, Jason gazed up at the two dark, lordly men, and felt powerless. He knew anything he did would only get her killed, instantly making the leap of logic that if he did not agree, he and his sister would be made to die.

He would have to wait, he suddenly realised, in an epiphany that tolled in his skull like a bell.

He would have to wait. And strike.

'Take...,' he mumbled, 'care... of my sis-- sister...'

Henri's Lord laughed, a single, darksome laugh. 'Take him to Valentina.'

Henri's eyes glittered. 'It is done.'

12 years, 11 months, and 27 days old.​

'Valentina,' Jason would discover, was as much a prisoner as he was. A Science Police Officer, she had gone undercover on Lythyl to attempt to undermine Lythyl's ruling council of vicious crimelords and in the process try and discover the power behind the council, the mysterious League spoken of only in whispers. In the process, she'd seduced one such crimelord, but had gotten pregnant.

She'd attempted escape, bringing the newborn child with her, trying to return home to Earth and Japan. But the crimelord had captured her and the baby both, handing them over to be tortured at the hands of The League's masters.

The criminal father had cared nothing for a child born of peace-officer stock, but Henri, vicious Henri, had held the child captive, forcing Valentina to use her surpassingly impressive combat skills to train the next generation of League minions. This had been about a month before Jason and Olivia had been taken.

Jason, entrusted to Valentina's personal tutelage and driven by the desire to break his sister free, gradually gradually formed an uneasy bond, conspiring in those rare moments where Henri did not personally watch over Jason's grueling training. Jason became the perfect student, Valentina the perfect teacher, two edges of the same sword.

They would work together to free their loved ones and escape.

Dying trying was not an option.

They had to be living weapons. Flawless.

The process took quite some time.

15 years, 1 month, and 12 days old.​

The caves beneath Lythyl rocked with a devastating chain reaction of explosions; the air tasted of stone and dust and acrid ozone.

Jason was bleeding from his left cheek, from his right arm, there was a nick above his heart that had almost been the death of him.

Beside him Valentina, coiled feminine destruction with golden skin and almond eyes, she had six shuriken sticking out of her back but she was still kicking, she was still going, she was still driven. Her eyes were autumnal and frightening.

'Your sister should be in here,' she grimaced, readjusting her grip on the metal bo she wielded, her long ravendark hair dripping with sweat and further darkened with soot. 'The nursery where they've been keeping my son-- it's just ahead. I'll double back for you, but don't be long.'

Jason nodded to her. 'Good luck.'

She smiled thinly. 'Hopefully, I won't need it. My family's full of legendary survivors. Going back a thousand years.'

Jason smiled a smile that was older by far than his fifteen-year-old face should have been able to display. 'The legend continues.'

Valentina sprinted down the hall, and, keeping his katana low, Jason moved into the medbay.

His sister lay there, suspended in the aspic of a stasis fluid cylinder, it seemed as though they'd kept her condition in remission by keeping her asleep for nearly half a decade.

The room glowed green, flickering with the luminescent emerald liquid in which Olivia dreamed.

It looked a lot like the incubator pod in which Jason had first seen her.

When his dad had told him what he needed to do with his life. Who he needed to be.

Jason stood for a moment, adjusting his grip on the hilt of the blade, as if contemplating the angle at which he'd slash through the casing to free her--

--the shadows moved, a black shape emerged behind Jason...

Jason half-glanced over his shoulder, didn't turn around. Henri.

He smiled a bloody-gummed smile, Jason's fist having knocked a tooth out of his head a few minutes previously. 'I might have known you'd come here first. How long do you think she'll last outside of the nutrient bath? Minutes? Seconds? Would you really put her to death just to assert your morality over mine?'

Jason answered simply: 'No. No, I wouldn't.'

Henri pointed his blade at Jason's back, the sword that had been sheathed in his cane: 'As I suspected. Turn around, Jason. Go back to your cell. And work out your servitude knowing that your sister will live.'

Jason closed his eyes. 'No. No, I won't.'

For a moment, bewilderment snarled across Henri's face, and then Jason's eyes were open and he was whirling and sparks were flying as the swords clashed and rebounded--

--and a wet thick sluck splurted and echoed off the walls as Jason plunged his sword into Henri's stomach, Henri staggered, clutching the weapon, falling to one side, letting his own sword clatter to the stony floor.

Henri laughed, though laughing was obviously agony for him, still he laughed, shaking his head: 'Slowing down in my old age. But still, you shouldn't rejoice as if this would be the end of me.'

Jason didn't look at him, he just takked a series of keys, the fluid flushed from Olivia's cylinder, the machine irised open.

And then he glanced up. 'It will be. You'll die just like a normal man. Unless you get to The Lazarus Pit.'

Wearing nothing but the skintight white sheath in which they'd entombed her, Olivia sputtered, began to stir, struggled towards a waking that she couldn't quite reach, and reaching into the ectoplasmic mess that was the stasis fluid, Jason gathered her up into his arms, and faced Henri.

'I guess I'll just follow you.'

Henri's face purpled in the half-light of the lab.

'What's it gonna be, Hank?' Jason growled. 'You let yourself die, let a millennium and a half of you just go, well, to Hell... or you go and fix yourself and you take me and Liv there in the process. Ball's in your court.'

Henri laughed again, dismally. 'Yes. I was right about you. You would have been my perfect replacement.'

And holding the sword in his wound to stem the bleeding, Henri turned and limped from that place, and bearing his sister in his arms, Jason followed him.

The Lazarus Pit was a seething, bubbling, fetid Bog of Eternal Stench, a mystic point at the intersection of ley-lines that combined raw magic energy and geothermal activity into a terrible alchemy of life.

Holding his breath against the reek and against the heat, Jason lowered his sister into the mire even as Henri stumbled into muck further down shore.

'C'mon, c'mon,' Jason murmured. 'All you've gotta do is heal quicker than that demon bastard, and we're home free. C'mon, c'mon, c'mon.'

Both Henri and Olivia started screaming at the same time.

Jason kept his eyes fixed on his sister, willing her to wake up properly, to come back to life--

--but then Henri was staggering back out of the muck, pulling that sword out of himself, his hair was no longer silver, the wrinkles were tumbling away from his face, his beard was thinning and neatening, he was climbing grim and determined and delighted.

Jason no longer had a sword, and the weapon he'd stolen from the man guarding his cell was now in the hand of the second most dangerous man on this planet.

He hesitated. Took a step back.

Henri took a step closer. He smiled. That tooth was coming back in.

'It appears, Mister Wayne,' he growled, an icon reborn from a past long forgotten, 'that you have miscalculated.'

Jason glanced at his sister in The Pit, and then at the man with the weapon. 'Looks that way.'

And then with a bloodcurdling howl, Olivia stormed out of The Pit and crashed into the darksome warrior, overcoming his 1500-year life and battle experience with the sheer ferocity of a young woman scorned, the sheer primal response of a woman brought back to life through pain--

--her hair was bleached white and her eyes were wild and lavender and her fingernails tore Henri's skin, and her fists fell upon his bones and he staggered and he fell, against all odds again he fell...

'Miscalculated? He's not the one who's forgotten how to count,' Olivia seethed, a dangerous near-psychotic light in her eyes. 'There's two of us, bitch.'

Jason smiled faintly. 'Liv. You're standing.'

Olivia grinned back at him, shakily, some of the darkness fading from her eyes. 'Hey. Yeah. I guess I am.'

Then she staggered, and Jason had to catch her, but she managed to support most of her weight. Each carrying the other, Jason caught up the fallen sword and they limped together towards the hallway.

Jason grunted as he helped them up the rocky slope: 'So, that was bad-nass. Where'd you learn to fight like that?'

'Are you kidding?' Olivia scoffed, spitting out Lazarus Pit and stasis fluid. 'Mom tried to teach you that spet for years but I was the only one paying any attention. I knew that bastard was bad news because I heard him in my sleep gloating over me for grife knows how long and all I could do was pay attention.'

Jason paused. '...huh.'

And then they reached the hall...

...there they found Valentina, standing there, her staff in two halves now, a fresh gouge down her side, and a beautiful five-year-old boy standing serenely beside her.

'Hey, kid,' Jason nodded to the boy.

The boy scrutinised him, saying nothing.

Valentina nodded to Olivia. 'Miss Wayne.'

'Hey,' Olivia greeted back, taking this beautiful woman in stride even though she had no idea what was going on or who this was.

Valentina scowled at Jason. 'What happened to you? Admittedly I took a little longer besting my son's "nannies" than I'd have liked, but I didn't think I'd have to hunt for you.'

Jason harrumphed, and kept helping his sister walk. 'Had to make a pit stop.'

Valentina smirked.

Jason glanced over his shoulder at her. 'Hangar?'

'Hangar.'

16 years and 4 days old.​

The sole remaining family lawyer shook his head sadly.

'As much as it galls me to admit it,' he frowned, 'McCauley's platoon of litigators have done their job, and done it well. Your story of a shadowy cabal in the bowels of Lythyl is just unbelievable enough that no court would admit it, and as such we can't overturn the forgery he's used to take control of your family's resources five years ago.'

Sitting across from their esquire in his office in Metropolis on Earth, Olivia and Jason exchanged a weary look.

'Okay, Counselor,' Jason suggested, 'tell us the good news.'

The lawyer smiled appreciatively. 'As good as the McCauley horde is, they never could get their fingers into your trust fund. Which, as it happens, since you've just turned sixteen, Jason, you have access to yours. Olivia'll get hers in two years to the day. The other thing?'

Olivia blinked. '"Other thing?"'

The lawyer nodded. 'You guys kept the houses.'

18 years, 5 months, and 9 days old.​

Stone crackled, splintered.

Light spilled into the cavern, and a hundred dozen leathery wings ruffled in response.

'Holy sprock,' Jason murmured. 'You were right. That geological survey team was full of nassclowns.'

'You doubted me?' Olivia chuckled, picking her way down a thousand years of crumbling stone, flickering her handheld LED-torch into the fathomless depths.

'I should really cut that out,' Jason admitted.

And then his light caught something. Something which glinted. Something which shone.

'Wait, sprock, what was that?'

Following the glint, the two young Waynes found a wall of silver metal, minuscule patterns of infinite complexity embedded in its surface.

Running her fingers over that surface, Olivia stopped, her breath hissing in her mouth. 'Jay.'

There was a symbol carved in amongst the pattern.

The Symbol of The Bat.

Not for the first time, Jason and Olivia shared a look which spoke volumes.

And, 10 years later...​

********​

"It appears the Remnant does indeed have a Master after all," J'onn said. His ring hand still holding Liz's, he slowly lowered her hand, silently reassuring her that all was well.

"Indeed," The Remnant replied, as if this had never been in any doubt. For her, it never had been.

Taking her every cue here from J'onn, unaware of the biographies that had just transpired, Liz trusted in that silent reassurance.

The Martian Manhunter took a step forward, and in solemn greeting he offerred The Batman his hand.

...and, in solemn greeting, Batman took hold of the proffered hand of The Manhunter from Mars, clasped it firmly.

Nodded to him.

In gratitude and in solidarity and in trust.

And asked the only question that, between these two seekers of Justice, these two minds met, still needed asking.

"How can we help?"

 

[AmenRa]

...and, in solemn greeting, Batman took hold of the proffered hand of The Manhunter from Mars, clasped it firmly.

Nodded to him.

In gratitude and in solidarity and in trust.

And asked the only question that, between these two seekers of Justice, these two minds met, still needed asking.

"How can we help?"

J'onn let go of The Batman's hand. He nodded his head towards the entrance doors to the Legion Headquarters that lay just behind him.

"Come with me," he said as he turned and began to lead them throughout the plaza entrance to the assembly hall.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Batman 3010, Tomorrow Woman, The Remant, GL 2261. En route.

J'onn let go of The Batman's hand. He nodded his head towards the entrance doors to the Legion Headquarters that lay just behind him.

"Come with me," he said as he turned and began to lead them throughout the plaza entrance to the assembly hall.

And without a word, without further ado, they followed.

They walked up the steps, through the doors, past the rings of statues.

Jason glanced at the statues, and then at J'onn and noted that J'onn himself was absent despite his crucial role in events gone by. "Humility's a nice touch."

[I'm detecting numerous scanners assessing your weapons systems,] Batman heard Olivia note in his ear, evidently she'd decided to help on this one after all. [They almost seem impressed with my work. Not to mention the sensor-baffling your new Girl Wonder's got on her belt-pouches...]

He smiled faintly, responding via neural relay. [Are you seeing this statuary? I barely recognise half of them from The Wall.]

[Yeah, I think Jonah Hex' scar might be on the wrong side.] There was a pause. [No, wait, it's cool.]

Carrie, perhaps predictably, wondered to herself why The Batman's statue wasn't at the center of The Trinity.

"Hope you don't mind crowds," Liz suggested amiably to this newfound Dynamic Duo, or at least, as amiably as Liz ever got.

And the doors to the Assembly Hall wssshed open, and The Legion was very nearly in readiness.

"Big and unwieldy," Carrie murmured, knee-jerk preliminary analysis, counting the faces, noting the colourfulness of the costumes, the diversity of the races, and noting the potential usefulness of all of this in pro-UP propaganda. "Publicity exercise?"

Batman shook his head, his own voice low. "They're good people. Show respect."

Carrie took this under advisement. "Understood."

 

[Abraxas Winterlight]

Wraith, Cos & anybody else I can stuff in here

People, kids really, kept piling in. Most took my appearance well, just curious looks. A girl in what looked to be religious robes with a sword belted at her waist gave me more than that, but I brushed it off. Liz had sped off to deal with Lantern issues, then John left after that to deal with something else.

Sometimes this mind-whammy that comes with the work clothes sucks sometimes. Having a telepath on the team raises efficiency by thirty percent at the least, and one of J'onn's caliber much more than that.

Damn handy during sieges too.

The last Legionnaire through the door was their leader, Cosmic Boy. He literally flew through the door, stopping by the green skinned kid with the really bad name.

"OK Brainy, this is your call. Whats going on?" I heard him ask.


Before the kid could reply, I said, loud enough for the room to hear, "Zod has escaped from the Phantom Zone, and he has been imbued with the powers of Hell. You face a challenge never before unleashed upon this world. More will be revealed once your benefactor returns."

At that moment the door opened and J'onn and Liz returned, with guests.

Surprising guests. More ghosts from my past showing up in my present.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Interlude I: A brief history of a Ronin Robin.

All things in this world pass away.

But there are other worlds than these.

And when Bruce Wayne passed beyond the veil of this world, it was, quite frankly, under circumstances more mysterious and bewildering than the most of men. There were many amongst his brethren that said, like King Arthur, Wayne would come again. The Dark Knight could not be stopped by mere death.

There were those who said he'd been cast to the winds of time, his spirit torn from his body. And that if anyone could find their way back from this, it was The Detective.

And there were those who waited.

But all things in this world pass away, and even those who waited for Bruce Wayne to return eventually faded from memory. For the most part.

He was a man.

He was just a man.

...but he was also a Legend, and in his time he faced and brushed up against a myriad of things and a myriad of people.

The League of Shadows spoke of The First Bat in whispers both fearful and respectful.

The Order of Saint Dumas spoke of The First Bat with mingled shame and reverence. One of their fallen angels, one of their Azraels, used his talents to become an Agent of The Bat, having briefly become a Bat himself.

Warrior-priestesses and warrior-priests charged to preserve the good in Mankind, The Remnant trusted the future to The Spirit of The Bat; having nurtured The Wayne Family against the encroaching influence of The League, The Remnant continued to work on behalf of The Bat long after. One of the daughters of The Remnant, Elizabeth Greystone, became one of The First Bat's trusted birds, Red Raven.

The Legend of The Bat itself continued after Bruce Wayne's passing. A young man called Terry McGinnis, son of The First Bat in spirit and perhaps in flesh, carried on The Mantle of The Bat after the named sons of Wayne no longer carried that Spirit. After Damian, the sons of Wayne were businessmen, though still good men.

And there were also The Robins. Robins that had become Nightwings, and Robins that had become Red Hoods, and Robins that had become Red Robins, and Robins that had been Spoilers and had then become Batgirls. There were Batgirls who had become Oracles. A daughter of The League, named Cassandra, she became a Batgirl in her own right, just as League-born Damian Wayne had been a Batman after his tenure as Robin. A different daughter of The Remnant, a long-lost offshoot of The Clan McCrimmon, would eventually marry the grandson of The Third Robin and The First Spoiler.

The Huntresses, The Batwomen, and The Questions were staunch allies of The Bat.

Origins drenched in mystery, there also remained the legacy of The Black Hood, a dynasty of Cain and of The League of Shadows that seemed to come from nowhere. It was said that after the first of these Cains, after The Black Hood, Damian Wayne had been named in turn. The Black Hood's intentions and beginnings would never be fully understood; but it was known that he was trusted by The Bat, and perhaps even had mentored him in some respects.

Sometime enemy of The Bat and his birds, and sometime ally, the boy called Anarky would eventually put his trust in The Bat as a Champion of The People foremost and a challenger of government in its corruption. His intellect served The Spirit of The Bat, his philosophy garnished it.

Eventually, some or all of these identities would fall into disuse. Some or all of these legacies would lie dormant. Sleeping and dreaming and waiting.

All these different shards of life touched and influenced by Bruce Wayne...

...the bits and pieces of the urban legend he had meticulously crafted passed down like ancient folklore as the decades turned into centuries...

...all of this became a mythology, complete with its own church.

They worshiped The Bat. They preached his Second Coming.

They met in secret and in hushed tones to discuss philosophy and technique, even forensics. They changed their surnames to reflect their family trees' intersection with The Bat-Family. But as the years passed and their fervour grew only stronger, they realised that mere nostalgia was not enough.

They wanted and needed more. The world wanted and needed more.

They combined their resources to preserve that which made The Bat an asset to justice and to The People.

From the League of Shadows came determination over impossible odds, the ability to climb frozen Himalayas with one's bare hands and to fight an army upon reaching the top. From here, also, came skill sufficient to murder efficiently, though in the offshoots of The League that joined The Bat, this was tempered by a sense of social justice.

From the Order of Saint Dumas came genetic engineering and post-hypnotic education, instruction in feudal weaponry and fiery showmanship, zealous vindication of the right.

From the Remnant came conscience and hope as well as an additional diversity of combat skills, hand-to-hand and archery and improvised weaponry. The Remnant, too, brought investigation and protectiveness. And a pair of guns that belonged to a man who had once trained their ranks in gunplay.

From the Family Wayne itself came a desire to preserve their history and legacy, turning the Gotham Heights home of Bruce Wayne into a memorial, and permitting The Church of The Bat to take up guardianship of Batcave Prime. The Family Wayne carefully would eventually, carefully, conceal Batcave Secundus, once certain records were complete and certain plans were in place, and would otherwise integrate Wayne Manour into the lovingly-restored historical preserve that was Smallville, Kansas.

From the Robins and The Batgirls and The Oracles and The Batwomen and The Spoilers and The Questions and The Red Hoods and The Red Robins and The Huntresses there came bloodlines vested in the good and right and the keeping of lonely little children being made orphans by villains in the night.

From the Black Hood, the Otherwordly Cains, there came a chilling foreknowledge of probable futures, as though passed down from some prophetic text.

From Anarky came the awareness that even government elected by the people rarely if ever had the best interests of the people at heart, and that when the people could not defend themselves, good men could not do nothing. From Anarky also came technology: the ability to sleep perhaps indefinitely, and to learn and grow strong even while one slept.

Thus, in May of the year 2339, it was decided that one of their number would be elected and trained and dedicated to the task of guarding Batcave Prime and keeping it ready for The First Bat's eventual return. In perpetuity. This would be like unto imprisonment, but the zealotry of the chosen guardian was expected to be sufficient to maintain one's sanity throughout one's tenure. (The accuracy of this expectation would later be called into some doubt.)

This guardian would be called The Remnant, as the symbol for Robin was also the symbol for the age-old priesthood, and the goal was to preserve and to protect. He or she would be the pinnacle of all of The Church's combined knowledge and ability and philosophy and spirit. And she would be properly armed.

This eventual guardian was named Cardinal "Carrie" Bryce MacDonald, though in the tradition of The Church of The Bat, she had changed her surname to that of an ancestor, Stephanie Brown-Drake. She was entombed in a cryogenic canister beneath Wayne Mansion, alerted and awakened should anyone ever intrude.

Should anything befall the creature sleeping in Batcave Prime, sensors would alert The Church of The Bat, and another Remnant would be inserted.

But nothing did.

Over the centuries, the congregation of The Church of The Bat would further dissolve into obscurity, Carrie Brown-Drake all but forgotten.

But she remained.

She remained, silently and coldly and darkly vigilant, continually updated through her neural tutorial systems about the changing world outside, for over six centuries, waking only rarely throughout this time, meeting and occasionally conversing with The Gray Ghost of The First Bat stored in an ancient Motherbox.

In the year 3002, Carrie Brown-Drake would awaken to discover a man perusing the archive of Batcave Prime, having been told what awaited him here by the mysterious Wall of Batcave Secundus. This man was virtually identical to The First Bat in every way.

For all intents and purposes, he was Master Wayne. He was The First Bat returned to life.

And she worshiped him.

In the year 3010, she would join with him in his Crusade.

Though all Hell should bar the way.

 

[AmenRa]

Manhunter Revealed

Before the kid could reply, I said, loud enough for the room to hear, "Zod has escaped from the Phantom Zone, and he has been imbued with the powers of Hell. You face a challenge never before unleashed upon this world. More will be revealed once your benefactor returns."

At that moment the door opened and J'onn and Liz returned, with guests.

Surprising guests. More ghosts from my past showing up in my present.

J'onn entered and heard the last of Wraith's words. He stopped and took a long look at Wraith, then motioned his head towards a raised dias that stood in front of the statues. It was clear J'onn wished for Wraith to join him on the dias. He motioned for The Batman and his Remnant to make themselves comfortable among the gathered heroes.

The Martian Manhunter took Liz's hand in his own as he lead her to the platform. He stepped upon it, and as his cape settled its movement about his shoulders, he turned to face the Legion of Superheroes.

"Legion," J'onn began, his voice booming throughout the hall, "hear me!"

When he had gathered their attention, he continued. "I am J'onn J'onzz of Mal'ecand'ra," he informed them.

"I thought he was dead?" someone in the back whispered.

J'onn's head turned towards the whispered voice. "I am Mars' sole survivor," he explained. "There is a reason for that. As long as there is Mars, then so will I be."

"I have always been among you," he told them, his voice somewhat softer now, "and I have always been watching, ever vigilant for the time when enemies would return. Ages ago, Apokolyps sent agents to hunt me, and in so doing, placed the lives of those I cared for in jeopardy. An intergalactic war began at my expense, and ultimately culminated in the Battle of Sanctuary, where Darkseid's minions were put down and driven back.

"This, however, caused me to consider that as long as I remained, then there would always be this danger. So, I allowed myself to pass quietly into the realm of the forgotten.

"I returned to Earth, and I assumed the identity of R. J. Brande," J'onn said as he shifted into Brande's familiar form. "Under this guise I was able to adapt technologies I had encountered in my travels to use for the pursuit of that ideal I hold most treasured: justice.

"I found you," he said as he stepped off the dias towards Cosmic Boy, and he shifted back to his Manhunter uniform. "And through you I was able to fulfill an oath sworn so many, many millenia ago." He placed his head on Cos's shoulder. "Each of you have proven yourself worthy of the title of Manhunter time and time again. You have brought peace where there was violence, courage where there was fear, and hope" his Blue Ring flashed brightly as he said that word, "where there was despair.

"I am so very proud of you all."

J'onn turned and took up his place beside Liz and Wraith on the platform. "It is now time," he explained, "to shed my ruse and let my true identity be know. I have deceived you, and I ask that you forgive my deception. Old friends have returned," he looked at Liz for a moment, "and love discovered among one thought lost so long ago." Then, J'onn indicated The Batman and his Robin, the newest Green Lantern, and the Knight who had recently arrived. "And new friends have come among us."

J'onn's voice grew stronger as he spoke next. "Wraith has told you, there is a new enemy who has reared his ugly head. This enemy was once a great Kryptonian general and leader, but he has become a tyrant who seeks nothing other than complete submission.

"This enemy is Zod."

J'onn let the murmers die down before he continued. "This information comes from trusted sources, yet we do not know Zod's location at this time. However, I can assure you he will come for us. He will come for Earth, as Earth has always been his intended conquer. He will seek out those who imprisnoned him, and those who are their descendants.

"The only way to defeat Zod and his followers will be to stand united against him. We will be tested in battle against him. Zod is powerful indeed, but his might and that of those that believe in him will be few. Our name is LEGION, for WE ARE MANY!."

The Martian Manhunter's voice echoed throughout the hall. His eyes flared red as he made a new promise. "Zod will not win! He WILL NOT enslave this world! So long as I have breath in me, so long as Mars exists, then I will use every power at my command to stop him!" The Blue Ring began to thrum with power, and J'onn raised his fist over his head as the Ring began to shine brightly.

"Legion! Will you stand with me?!"

"WILL YOU STAND AGAINST ZOD?"

 

[TearsoftheWorld]

There was so much going on that Caroline felt almost overwhelmed by it all. The entire Legion had been assembled, and through all the noise and chatter there was a sense of uncertainty and confusion. Most were too inexperienced to recognize that something truly epic was starting, but the rest, including Caroline, looked to their leaders for direction and guidance.

For answers.

And they were given them.

In a voice loud enough to silence the great assembly of legionnaires, the one called Wraith announced that Zod, given the powers of Hell, had been set free to usher in a new era of darkness into the universe.

The Hall grown so silent that Caroline could hear each and every one of their heartbeats. Well, she could hear them anyway if she really wanted to.

But the point was, their attention was now completely and unequivocally focused on the front of the hall where the Martian Manhunter soon rose to address the audience. He was not alone, but his presence there simply commanded attention.

"Legion, hear me!"

I am J'onn J'onzz of Mal'ecand'ra," he informed them.

"I thought he was dead?" someone towards the back whispered.

Caroline shot a quick glance to her side and the person sitting next to her shut his mouth as J'onn revealed that as long as Mars survived... he would survive. Bold words, but he at least had the power to back them up.

J'onn continued by recounting his reasons for staying hidden for so long, and although he asked for forgiveness... none was needed.

With his help peace had been achieved.

And that was something.

"Wraith has told you, there is a new enemy who has reared his ugly head. This enemy was once a great Kryptonian general and leader, but he has become a tyrant who seeks nothing other than complete submission.

"This enemy is Zod."

Once more the legionnaires began whispering to themselves and to each other, but Caroline never stopped looking forward... never took her eyes off the Martian Manhunter as he waited for everyone to calm down before continuing with his speech, telling them that Zod would return and that he would seek vengeance against his enemies.

Caroline knew the stories.

He was talking about her and a select few that could trace their routes back to the first great heroes.

To those that had stood up to Zod and banished him so many years ago...

"The only way to defeat Zod and his followers will be to stand united against him. We will be tested in battle against him. Zod is powerful indeed, but his might and that of those that believe in him will be few. Our name is LEGION, for WE ARE MANY!."

"Zod will not win! He WILL NOT enslave this world! So long as I have breath in me, so long as Mars exists, then I will use every power at my command to stop him!"

J'onn raised his fist and the ring on his finger glowed brightly, matching the fire, strength and determination in his heart and in his soul.

"Legion! Will you stand with me?!"

"WILL YOU STAND AGAINST ZOD?"

"I will stand with you," Caroline finally said, breaking her silence as she rose up onto her feet, even floating up into the air a little.

She did not have a sword or bow, or even an axe, but she would stand with him, bringing the full might of the House of El down to bear against the risen Kryptonian general.

She would fight alongside them all.

 

[AmenRa]

Martian Manhunter - Legion Assembly Hall -


"I will stand with you," Caroline finally said, breaking her silence as she rose up onto her feet, even floating up into the air a little.

She did not have a sword or bow, or even an axe, but she would stand with him, bringing the full might of the House of El down to bear against the risen Kryptonian general.

She would fight alongside them all.[/QUOTE]

Her voice hadn't been loud in the assembly hall, but it rang out nonetheless, and the Martian Manhunter raised his great, green head to peer over the others gathered as Caroline rose into the air.

He looked at her for a long moment, and a slight smile almost played at the corner of his mouth.

Here was the descendant of Krypton's last Great House, the House of El. A House he himself had served once. And she had just lent her voice to the Legion gathered here today, and she alone had been the first to stand firm against the coming war.

J'onn J'onzz expected no less from Kara Zor-El's descendant.

J'onn stepped from the dias and made his way through the gathered heroes to where she floated gently above the floor. He reached out and took her small hands in his large ones, and he gazed down at her fingers as he held them.

Yes, her hands were small, but there was great power in them.

J'onn caught her eyes, and in that instant, he opened his mind and his memories to her.

Memories of a crystalline world that orbited a red sun. A world of cities with great crystal spires and deep canyons. There was the Great Dome, partially opened, with a ray of light shining brightly from its center. And, traveling across the vast, icy terrain, there came a valley, the Valley of Peace. Nestled in that valley, against the farthest wall, stood a monument, and upon this was carved the Kryptonian symbol of Hope.

The symbol of the House of El that Kara herself had worn with honor and pride so long ago.

Then J'onn closed his mind and retreated from his memories to The Now.

He spoke softly, "These things I have shown you are only a fraction of what makes you who you are, Caroline. This is your heritage. Your birthright. And it is the reason you, more than anyone else gathered here today, must never stop fighting."

J'onn released her hands and gave her a nod. He was so proud that she had spoken, and she could see this in the way he bowed his head for the brief instant. He then turned back to look at the dias where Wraith and Liz stood.