Supergirl: Identity

[Lunaramblings]

"Diana of Themyscira. We are all connected are we not? For example, I once worked with your mother, who later would assist Hector in taking the Mantle. And now, Hector occassional works with you. So are you not connected? Has Destiny not bound us all? I can tell you that she was an Amazonian warrior. I can tell you only that there are answers, but is up to you to seek them. I can give you no further. Tell your mother I said hello please." With a glare of purple and gold Doctor Fate is gone.

 

[Lunaramblings]

Batman fixed Clark with a stare.

"I can not stop you from doing this. But, if she is who you think. And she has a hidden agenda, then that Fortress of yours is the last place she belongs. This decision may have more to do with you than with anyone, but keep in mind the consequence from it will be the whole worlds to pay. I hope for all of our sake's you are making the right choice."

 

[ChasNicollette]

Wonder Woman: "Yourself or Someone Like You"

"Diana of Themyscira. We are all connected are we not? For example, I once worked with your mother, who later would assist Hector in taking the Mantle. And now, Hector occassional works with you. So are you not connected? Has Destiny not bound us all? I can tell you that she was an Amazonian warrior. I can tell you only that there are answers, but is up to you to seek them. I can give you no further. Tell your mother I said hello please." With a glare of purple and gold Doctor Fate is gone.

Diana sat there for a moment. Staring at the place in which Fate had been sitting. Staring at the place from which he'd vanished.

"Enigmatic," she murmured. "Rose would call that, I think, 'textbook enigmatic.'"

She stood, and she dusted herself off, and continued, eyes half-lidded, as she chatted to herself: "I suppose I should have known better than to have expected a straight answer to my question from that man. I should have known better than to have expected a straight answer to my question in this place."

And then a voice came from behind her, stern and warm all at once, maternal and protective in the same instant that it was reproving and, as always happened when this woman spoke, Wonder Woman got the bizarre feeling that this was how everyone else felt when she spoke to them.

"Perhaps the fault lay," Hippolyte intoned, as Diana whirled to face her, "not in he who answered, but in she who asked. You asked if you were connected, Daughter, and you are. You did not ask the fashion of your connectedness."

"Mother," Diana greeted Hippolyte, Goddess of Truth, and bowed her head with sheepish chagrin. "Doctor Fate asked me to greet you on his behalf."

She had faced down countless threats, saved her homeland and the world, had brought a mad warmaker god to his senses with nothing but The Truth as her weapon. But still her mother could make her feel like a child wailing against the night, throwing temper tantrum fits as she didn't get her way. Perhaps all mothers had this power over their daughters, not just royal ones. Not just goddesses.

Diana had always been tall. Hippolyte was taller.

Diana had always been sturdy. Hippolyte was sturdier.

Hippolyte had that aura about her that all Goddesses had, that she was forever young and yet infinitely old, her eyes windows onto a soul very old indeed. Even before she had ascended to change places with Diana in the pantheon, Hippolyte had been immortal.

She had been already a thousand years old when Christ had walked The Earth.

She wore a toga dress of blue lined with hints of gold, and her long wavy black hair fell down in tendrils.

"My beautiful girl," Hippolyte murmured, and bid Diana to raise her head. "What would you ask of me? It matters not whether you ask me as mother or as goddess or as queen, simply ask, and I shall answer Truthfully, to the best of my ability.

"(Though I hope,)" she chided bemusedly, "(you have learned your lesson about the phrasing of such questions.)"

Diana took a moment to collect herself, and then squared her shoulders, tilted her head up with a modicum of confidence, and asked: "Why have I not been told of Phedre before?"

Hippolyte smiled faintly, as if impressed by this. "One question that is many questions. Not every question, that is certain. But well done, all the same."

Diana acted perfectly nonplused, not letting her internal flare of pride at accomplishment get the better of her: "Will your answer be one or many or none at all?"

Hippolyte gazed at Diana for a moment, pain etched lightly in her fathoms-deep eyes.

"Walk with me," she murmured.

And Diana did. They walked slowly up and up and up through the winding paths of Olympus.

(Olympus was infinite in every direction, and every direction was up.)

Hippolyte walked with her arms cradled across her stomach, as if encircling herself protectively, and Diana walked beside her with arms swinging loose and soldierly at her sides.

And Hippolyte gathered her thoughts.

"You were not told of Phedre," she murmured, "for the same reason that dear Cassandra was not told of her father's identity until Zeus permitted the revelation: her mother forebade us from speaking of it. I only speak of it now with her leave."

Diana arched an eyebrow, but did not interrupt.

"Phedre came to live with us," Hippolyte explained, "shortly after the making of Paradise Island, because we Amazons were already renowned in the arts of warfare, and Phedre's mother sought to have her instructed in battle with a female perspective, not taught by some brutish male under the influence of the raucous Ares.

"She was there," Hippolyte whispered, "when Heracles mounted his invasion, and his forces... shamed us. Toyed with us as playthings rather than creatures of honour and life."

Hippolyte glanced quietly, ominously at Diana. "Athena only intervened on behalf of The Amazons when we swore to not to take revenge upon our captors, an oath we broke at the earliest given opportunity. (Though Heracles, of course, had long been gone.)"

Her jaw worked a bit, and she glanced up into the wide wide gold-kissed blue of the sky: "She intervened on one other's behalf, barely moments after Heracles' initial betrayal. Spared her the ignominy and the terror of slavery and bondage and... but the rest of us were left to suffer, to learn our lesson."

Diana couldn't quite bite her tongue in time, couldn't quite keep her silence: "Who?" she hesitated. "Why her and not--?"

Hippolyte gave Diana an expression of utmost patience.

And then it dawned on Diana: The Truth.

"Phedre was the daughter of Athena," Diana breathed. "And, being her daughter, Athena cherished her above all The Amazons."

Hippolyte nodded sadly, with pain and resentment that had faded with time but had never entirely been forgiven. "In a burst of godly power, Athena cast Phedre onto the winds of time, bearing only the artefacts of war she carried with her as an adopted daughter of The Amazons, as well as the gifts of goddesses. Athena herself had gifted Phedre with bracelets inspired by The Aegis. Artemis, meanwhile, had bestowed upon her the magic bow of silver arrows, that she might be a clever huntress, and merciful."

Hippolyte shrugged helplessly. "When she landed, thousands of years later, she had only fractured fragments of an identity, had only the memory of her muscles, had only her training, had only her mother's name, the name of her dwelling-place. Eventually, as happy times again found her, she recovered her own name as well, though never did she remember more, not before that daughter of a goddess was killed by the spear that slew The Son of The Christian God."

The onetime queen shook her head. "If only I had known about her whilst I was in the past, I would have shown her the way home. We should never abandon our own, we should never abandon family, or tribesmates, whether they be trueborn or adopted, we should cherish and defend our sisters above all. (Never forget this, Daughter.) When Antiope and I parted ways, and The Amazons of Bana-Mighdall bifurcated from Paradise Island, this was the most grievous sin that could have been permitted. I am glad they came back to us, even if Antiope had long since died, I am glad they dwell on our Island once more.

"(And dear little Grace,)" Hippolyte lamented with a tiny smile-- though perhaps Grace would have arched an eyebrow to hear herself described this way --as she smoothed her toga's folds, "(I am glad I still walked The Earth when they brought her home for the first time, though she chose to remain among The Patriarchs.)"

"Mother," Diana murmured, hesitant, interrupting but trying not to be rude about it, as she did not want Hippolyte to digress too far. "She looked like me. I met her lover, and he said that Phedre looked like me."

And this, this question, this statement that also pleaded for Truth, this made Hippolyte appear most broken-hearted of all.

"When I made you," Hippolyte whispered, "from the sea-soaked clay of Themyscira, and I begged the gods to breathe into you life most abundant, I did so because I was searching for a daughter. But I was not the only one who was searching for a daughter... Aphrodite gave you beauty, but so also had she given beauty to Phedre when she was born. And thus, Phedre's beauty was hers to give."

Diana's eyes widened. She had been right, there on that rooftop with the shadow-man, though she had not known it at the time.

"Aphrodite gave you Phedre's beauty," Hippolyte confirmed, softly. "In memory of a lost child."

 

[Wyldfire]

'Ragman's been in Prague last few weeks, I think it's a Golem-related thing. Nightshade's with him. Dare I ask why you ask?'

The text flashed for Oracle's attention. She turned and looked at it, typing a response immediately. Zatanna was feeling expansive and that was always a good thing. 'New meta in Gotham, Ragman was one of the two potentials. Anyone you might know that might fit this description?'

she attached an image she had captured from the fight with Malone, then added to it, 'You know how HE responds to new influences in Gotham. It makes Huntress bitchy as well. I don't know which is worse, but, solving this will correct both issues.'

Finnishing the text she then sent the prelimenary report to the Bat. Back to the trajectories until she heard from Zatanna or the Bat.

 

[TearsoftheWorld]

"Remember what we've taught you," Zor-El once said as Kara was readied for her departure from the doomed planet of Krypton.

"And remember what we've told you," he added, his voice ominous as she was laid down into the space ship that would travel across galaxies before it reached its final destination.

Earth

But her journey had been delayed by unforeseen events, and she had apparently landed nearly decades after her cousin Kal-El did. Their roles had been reversed, and Kara wasn't quite sure how to deal with the notion that her 'younger' cousin was now older than she was.

It was... really unnerving.

To make matters worse, Kara felt like she was supposed to do something. In her mind she could faintly hear her father speak, but his words were fragmented and broken. Though she was unaware of what had happened, her ship had been caught in a large green kryptonite meteorite, and there it had held her in a state of suspended animation.

Now she was free.

Now she was on Earth... her new home.

"What is going on, Kal-El?" Kara asked, sounding rather impatient while he continued to discuss matters with the masked figure before her. They had been conversing together in a language that Kara hadn't yet picked up on, and she was growing tired of being kept out of the loop.

 

[LuckyVic]

Batman fixed Clark with a stare.

"I can not stop you from doing this. But, if she is who you think. And she has a hidden agenda, then that Fortress of yours is the last place she belongs. This decision may have more to do with you than with anyone, but keep in mind the consequence from it will be the whole worlds to pay. I hope for all of our sake's you are making the right choice."

"You might be right Bruce. Leaving her hear might be for the best for now. I just know I don't want to take her back to Metropolis until she's learned to control her abilities. As to her identity I suppose I can have one of the Fortress robots come and run scans on her." Clark admited.

"What is going on, Kal-El?" Kara asked, sounding rather impatient while he continued to discuss matters with the masked figure before her. They had been conversing together in a language that Kara hadn't yet picked up on, and she was growing tired of being kept out of the loop.

"I'm sorry Kara, i guess I just got caught up in talking with the Batman here." he told her. "As you know under a yellow sun, we have abilities we wouldn't have if we were on Krypton. You've already begun to notice them. These abilities are only going to increase in strength with your exposure. Taking that into account we need to find a place that you can stay and have time to learn to control them, so you can pass as human." he explained to her in Kryptonian.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Wonder Girl and The Amazons

Cassie was immensely tired.

If she hadn't already practically pulled an all-nighter, lugging a multi-ton asteroid would be enough to throw a dose of fatigue anyone's way.

Still, though, she felt like she was on red alert. Maybe being tired was enough to make her cranky, and maybe crankiness was enough like anger that it was causing her lasso's lightning to respond, but she felt prickling all through her being.

Even if it were to save her life, she could not sit still.

And thus she tip-toed over to where Artemis and Phillipus were watching the two Superpeople with eyes almost unblinking.

"So, uh," she murmured, "what do we think is happening?"

Without looking away from The Icon and The Girl, Phillipus leaned slightly towards Cassie: "Given the age differences between Superman and his young friend, we think perhaps she might be his daughter, perhaps from some Kryptonian girlfriend with whom he had a torrid one-night affair when he was 18 or 19."

Cassie's eyebrows shot up her forehead. "That's. That's. You're. No... no he couldn't have. He came here from Krypton when he was younger, Conner told me. He never could've known a Kryptonian woman."

"Time travel, then," Artemis theorised without missing a beat, "he traveled back in time to a period shortly before The Last Sundering of Krypton, and in this time he fell helplessly in love with a blonde Kryptonian actress. Only now have his 'sins' found him out."

Cassie blinked. "That's. Awfully specific."

"That city in a bottle," Phillipus suggested easily, "with the arrhythmic chronology. What was that called?"

"Kandor," Artemis supplied nigh-instantly.

"Full of Kryptonian women," Phillipus shook her head, "I shouldn't wonder. More than likely he has a weekend fling there every once in a while. The girls there would age at a different rate than those in the outside world--"

Cassie stared at them like they'd each sprouted a second head, and each of those second heads was a Hecatonchire.

"You're making fun of me," she declared.

"Certainly not," Phillipus dismissed.

"Never happen," Artemis agreed.

"Well," Phillipus mused, "probably."

"I would say that that is more than likely," Artemis smirked.

"Yes," Phillipus nodded firmly. "We are definitely 'making fun of you.'"

Cassie groaned. "This is what I get for engaging in idle speculation about celebrities whose lives are none of my business."

"Lesson learned," Artemis chuckled, patting Wonder Girl consolingly on the shoulder.

"Screw you guys," Cassie grunted, and stalked off, shaking her head. "I'm getting some sleep. Call me if anything explodes."

 

[ChasNicollette]

Zatanna: "The Sound of Silence"

By the time the picture message came through on her phone, Zatanna had dried off her toenails with a whisper-- "Yrd slian." --and gotten a little bit dressed, though she was feeling unapologetically casual today.

She'd been wearing a black bra and matching boxers while she'd spoken with Grace, and she donned black track pants and a black fishnet top-- this only mostly see-through --for a visit out to the second-floor balcony.

She gazed out at The Pacific, and wondered at the aptness of its name.

...then the phone chirped, and it was back to work. 'No rest for the wicked' was starting to seem awfully prophetic.

She flipped the phone open, and saw Matches Malone duking it out with a beast that looked like it was spawned in a black pit.

"Good ol' Matches," she murmured. "Who's your friend?"

Maybe a Harpy had made hot fetid love to a Shining Knight of some era or other, and this had hatched from the egg she'd later laid. Which, hey, kinda gross.

'New meta in Gotham, Ragman was one of the two potentials. Anyone you might know that might fit this description?'

Quickly, deftly, Zatanna replied: 'No-one springs to mind. (Do we know for sure this guy is or isn't magical?) I'll ask around, if it'll save you migraines from B. and H.'

Blowing air through her lips that cast her dark bangs about in a little bit of chaos, Zatanna abandoned the soothing breezes of the balcony for Shadowcrest's ever-murky halls.

A short ways down one corridor, a great ornate mirror hung, its frame gold and etched with ancient runic rhyming glyphs.

Standing before the mirror, she held up the picture on the screen of the phone and arched a curious eyebrow. "Hey, Lewis," she prompted. "This beastie ring any bells?"

Something shifted deep in the reflection, a blue mist and a watery ripple.

And then a voice echoed, a call from a great distance, words spoken with omen and portent and wrath, a hissing groan: "Darrrrrkliiiiiing."

Zatanna blinked. "Wait, what?"

But the magic mirror did not readily supply a reply.

"Explain," Zatanna frowned. "Lewis? Hey, you in there? You okay?"

Lewis The Looking Glass remained eerily silent.

Zatanna, growing worried and impatient, raised her voice, firm and loud: "Siwel! Em rewsna!"

And the reflection in the mirror winked completely out, like a television suddenly unplugged. Instead of a reversed image of herself, Zatanna saw only slate grey nothingness.

Zatanna stood and stared for a moment.

"Well," she murmured, "that's kind of foreboding."

 

[Wyldfire]

'No-one springs to mind. (Do we know for sure this guy is or isn't magical?) I'll ask around, if it'll save you migraines from B. and H.'

Barbara looked up at the message and cursed. 'Please do ask around. Secondary reference came up in a query. Book title "Deities and Daemons: The rise of the Supermen". Publication date 1940. Sound magical to you? Book is inbound to me asap, but not soon enough to make me happy.'

This was getting frustrating. Oracle wasn't used to running into this many walls and delays. It was one of the few curses on the internet, in that if something wasn't big enough and it was old it just never made the net.

Oracle actually startled and squeeked (Damn it, she hated when she did that.) when a tone surprised her on the continued search for the mystery man. Her eyes grew large as she began to save the information on where this was all the while disconnecting the search at her third redundancy connection point. Military, and high level. Luckily she knew she had stopped the search before it could trigger any defenses.

She turned back to the text 'Whatever this is it could be magic, but for sure it has ties to high end Military.' she sent the message on.

After that she sent a "Reply A.S.A.P." message to the Bat.

 

[Lunaramblings]

The Batman looked from Clark to The Girl.

"I think you have made a good decision Kal. I need to speak to Diana before I leave." There was a beep only audible within his cowl. Batman saw the message from Oracle appear.

"Excuse me." Batman stepped off to the side a bit and toggled a switch.

"What do you have Oracle?"

 

[ChasNicollette]

Wonder Woman: "Lithium Flower"

Diana emerged, more than a little bit shaken, from the darkness of the recessed temple and into the world of the real. Into the burgeoning sunlight of the new day.

She blinked, but only for a moment, and not at the change of darkness into bright. Like Kal, she had stared into the surface of The Sun without blinking.

And having been blinded, terribly, once, she considered herself blessed to gaze upon Helios' brightness even now, and refused to flinch from it.

She paused for a moment, and gazed at the ground at her feet, gathering herself.

Diana had, in a sense, inherited her appearance. She had always assumed that she had been granted a visage similar to her mother's, the gods having done so out of a sense of mortal continuity.

But, no. Rather, the continuity of Diana's appearance was immortal in nature.

Diana hugged herself rather like Hippolyte had done, her arms encircling herself protectively.

Come now, Diana, she reminded herself after a moment. The work continues.

(What does Kal always call it? 'The Never-Ending Battle?'

Oh, Truth, why must you sting so deeply?)

Soil puffed away from her boots as she flew skyward, and, banking high over Themyscira's stony ridges, she flew back towards the cliff where all was taking place.

Gently, she landed in a crouch, a short walk from the crowd that had gathered, a short walk from The Icon and The Detective and The Girl.

Standing, she smiled softly at Cassie "Wonder Girl" Sandsmark, who had passed out on a rather uncomfortable-looking stone bench.

She would not chide the girl. The Christ had once admonished His followers, as they had dozed off instead of keeping watch: 'The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.'

But neither Cassie's flesh nor her spirit were weak. She had earned her rest, even though Diana had told her to keep a weather eye.

She walked in amongst the gathered Amazons, standing amongst her women, amongst her people, and she watched Bruce stand away from Kal and The Girl, talking with someone in his cowl.

She waited patiently, and she dwelt on certain bookfuls of revelations.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Zatanna: "Hallelujah"

Zatanna sat, a little perplexed, on the edge of the bed she often shared with John Constantine.

Lewis The Looking Glass wasn't sentient, exactly, but he was close enough to it that she considered the magic mirror something of a friend. And he had never refused to answer a question before. Sometimes he hadn't known things, that was true, but he was always very apologetic about such things.

He was never rude, and he had never before silenced his reflection.

Zatanna's phone chirped and, almost on autopilot, she snapped the phone open and read Oracle's reply: 'Please do ask around. Secondary reference came up in a query. Book title "Deities and Daemons: The rise of the Supermen". Publication date 1940. Sound magical to you? Book is inbound to me asap, but not soon enough to make me happy. Whatever this is it could be magic, but for sure it has ties to high end Military.'

Her eyes widened. Magic and military were always a bad mix. (Well, not always, but mostly. Whether you believed in The Rule of Three or not, Magic ever had its cost. To use such for offensive military purposes, or even defensive, was to risk repercussions that she was pretty sure most Earthen governments weren't prepared to deal with.)

The book title was. Unfamiliar? Tip of her tongue, back of her brain. She was fairly certain she hadn't read it herself, but she'd seen the cover at some point. Not Lucien's Library, she was sure...

She shook her head, and started to text back: 'Not sure about the book. When I get a chance, I'll check my father's reading room. John's'

At this she paused, reflecting on the bastard that was John Constantine. She glanced at the bedside table, and on the table was a pack of his favourite brand of cigarettes. Silk Cut.

(This was Rose's brand, too, but it had been John's first and foremost.)

The smokes seemed to be glaring at her, reproachfully, for contemplating Constantine when she had so roughly ushered him back to the other side of the world.

She grunted, and picked up the pack of cigarettes. She licked her lips.

"Uoy kcuf," she decided, and, in response to her magic, the letters on the front of the Silk Cut pack metamorphosed into this message... though right-way-'round, easily read, in the very same font indicative of the brand.

'Fuck you,' proclaimed the pack of cigarettes in bold lettering.

Setting the pack down, she rubbed her face grumpily with one hand, and resumed the text: 'got a bunch of boxes of tomes he hasn't even unpacked yet. If that's a no go, I know a guy in town. Will apprise.'

She sent this, and started a second message, also to Oracle: 'My first informant clammed up like Boston chowder, but I have other options. Big magickal community on The Left Coast. (Means I'll have to go to L.A., ewh.) Will apprise.'

After pressing the 'send' key, she rose to her feet, and sighed heavily, slipping the phone into her pocket.

There were good people in Los Angeles. At least one, come to think of it. And so long as there was a good person in a city, it was worth not blowing off of The Face of The Earth.

She held out her hand. "Tah."

Her top hat poofed to life in her hand, a crackle and a shimmer of pale dark orchid light. Twirling it expertly, she popped it onto her head and slithered her fingertips around the rim, like she was in a Broadway dance number.

Showmanship was almost in her blood more than magic was, after all.

"Sehtolc gnilevart," she requested, and in another such crackle and shimmer, her somewhat risque raiment transformed into her stage costume-- and frequent superheroic uniform --fishnet tights and high heels and a tuxedo-esque leotard and a coat with tails.

And she smiled. Smiled a roguish little devilish little smile, and she made that smile look good.

"Fmab!" she exulted.

And BAMF, she was gone.

********​

...when she reappeared, and the little cloud of sulphur and brimstone dissipated, aided on by her coughing and waving her hat-- "Geeze! Why do I do that?" --she stood in a great round room of gold and white.

It stretched upward, massively, though not forever. It was like a little piece of Heaven's capital city, with good reason. (Though the materials were Earthly, the design and the architecture were quite literally Heavenly.)

This was The Aerie, and here in the skies over Los Angeles it was home to a being who had, for a time, served as The Justice League's advisor on matters of the supernatural in Zatanna's own absence from The League's ranks. An angel-- while not fallen, technically --who had willingly taken on mortal flesh to serve as Heaven's representative on Earth.

"Eagle Eyes?" Zatanna called, keeping her hat off and in her hand-- wasn't polite to have your hat on in church, she suddenly remembered, and this place was churchlike enough that she was sure it counted --as she turned slowly about. "You home?"

Wings rushed behind her, that kind of musical breeze that always seemed to hover in his feathers, rushed like a storm that blew Zatanna's hair in gale-swept tendrils, startling her-- "Jesus!"

She turned to find Zauriel gazing at her dubiously, golden-white eyebrow arched high over ruby-red eyes.

"Uh," Zatanna grinned sheepishly. "Blasphemy. Sorry. Please don't smite me."

Zauriel chuckled faintly, oh, so faintly, with a voice that sounded of Middle Eastern sands and Fertile Crescents all at once. "It's okay. I'm not that kind of angel. (Just, uh, please don't make a habit of it. Please.)"

"I am a woman of unclean lips," Zatanna shrugged lopsidedly, tucking her hair back behind her ears. "It's, uh, how I make a living."

Zauriel shook his head. "Great God," he mused, "these San Franciscan women will be the death of me."

"Actually," Zatanna pointed out, "Gothamite. Originally."

The angel laughed deeply and loudly, and the sound seemed to make the air tremble with a thousand ghostly bells.

"In that case," he grinned, "you must be perfectly safe. What can I do for you?"

Zatanna reached for her phone, and found it missing. She sighed dismally, remembering that she'd put it in the pocket of pants she was no longer wearing. "Enohpllec?"

The phone appeared in a burst, and she snapped it open, showing him the picture of Wraith locked in combat.

"Nice," Zauriel commented. "(This is what, two megapixels?) I think I know that mook, in the sunglasses."

"(He's looking at the 'mook,')" Zatanna sighed, mock-dismal.

"Oh!" Zauriel acted surprised. "You mean the guy with the armour and the scary eyes?"

"Isn't sarcasm a semi-deadly sin?" Zatanna prodded him, shaking her head with eyes half-lidded and a smirk in place.

"Without my bad habits," Zauriel replied, winking, "I'd be perfect."

"What can you tell me?" Zatanna pressed, remembering that Oracle preferred results, and quick. "Is he what he looks like?"

Zauriel appeared to mull that over for a moment. "If you're saying he looks like he's from Upstairs, then I'd say he takes Saint Dumas way too seriously. (Most of us think that guy's kind of a jerk, even The Bull Host.)"

"Upstairs?" Zatanna blinked. "No, I was thinking. Wait. Is he from Upstairs?"

"Didn't say that," Zauriel corrected her, a faint little smile on his snowy-gold lips.

Zatanna frowned, looked again at the picture. "Downstairs, then. Thought so."

"Didn't say that, either," Zauriel pointed out, quite reasonably.

Her quite pretty face contorted in a rather displeased fashion. "Oh, no way. 'Miscellaneous?' No way. (What sort of 'miscellaneous,' can you tell me?)"

Somewhere deep in The Aerie's reaches, a great cloister bell started tolling, and Zauriel glanced up with surprise.

"Shoot," he frowned. "D'you know, morning prayers seem to get earlier every day?"

Zatanna made a woeful noise. "You have to go."

The angel spread his wings, and made ready for liftoff, though very genuine apology etched his features. "The Song For A Thousand Tongues To Sing is extremely difficult to pull off without proper warming-up, even for a guy who's been singing since before The Dawn of Creation. (I like the way that the Aramaic and the Arabic parts go well together, it's kind of a hopeful metaphor.)"

With a beat of his wings, Zauriel took to the air.

"Any other advice?" Zatanna called after him, trying to keep the note of pleading out of her voice.

"Have you tried asking John?" he asked her over his shoulder as he wheeled high, high towards the highest point of the airborne Aerie.

Zatanna stiffened, eyes wide.

Then she scowled, and lowered her head.

"Goddammit," she whispered.

"Hey, come on," Zauriel shouted with a very audible wince, "I heard that."

Zatanna turned pale. "Uhm. Sorry! Going! Sorry!"

Her hat returned to her head and, phone in hand, she whispered a quick departure: "Knilb!"

And BLINK, she was gone.

 

[Wyldfire]

"What do you have Oracle?"

"You're not going to like it, but I called in some back up on this one. My search on your mystery man turned up two possibilities that I ruled out immediately. The only other thing that readily came up was a book title, Dieties and Daemons: Rise of the Supermen. But the search kept going and almost tripped me up in a high end Military area. I managed to not get in trouble with the Government but it was a pretty close thing." Barbara took a breath.

A text came in and she acknoledged it but continued with Bruce. "I have where I need to go to get the information but it will take me a bit to get things ready to hack a Government mainframe. Your thoughts?"

She waited for Batman to digest what she'd given him and replied back to Zatana 'Thanks, we'll see who can get the book first, and thank you for the help. Anything you can give me on that will be a help. And you know how this goes, you've scratched mine, so when you need yours let me know and I'll oblige.'

 

[ChasNicollette]

Zatanna: "Message in a Bottle"

'Thanks, we'll see who can get the book first, and thank you for the help. Anything you can give me on that will be a help. And you know how this goes, you've scratched mine, so when you need yours let me know and I'll oblige.'

'Don't even think of thinking about owing me,' Zatanna replied, standing amongst the bookshelves of San Francisco's own Patron Saint of Books bookshop. 'You've bailed me out enough times. I haven't been keeping track, and neither should you. Besides, I'm like Ralph Dibny right now: I'll never stop twitching 'till this mystery's solved.'

Somewhere above her, atop a rolling ladder that climbed Patron Saint's voluminous shelves, a grunt of distaste and a loud sneeze echoed through the place.

Putting the phone into her jeans pocket-- she'd changed into more normal clothes for this visit, as the proprietor of Patron Saint wanted to keep his more mystical book sales on the down-low --Zatanna craned her neck back and gazed up into the shadows.

"You okay, Jack?" she wondered, feeling a little guilty.

Clive "Jack" Staples harrumphed noisily. "Nothing I can't live through. Need to fire my stockboy, though, he never dusts the upper shelves."

The ladder creaked, and he clambered back down. It took him a long time; the shelves were really, really tall. (You had to have at least one magickal sense to see really how tall. And it was unfair to demand such dusting of the stockboy, really, as the poor lad was as mundane as they come and had no idea the upper shelves even existed.)

(Jack was a scrawny, short old man, and the theory went that he was at least part gnome on his father's side. His ears were a little pointy, which had led more than one book-buying Tolkien fan to suggest that the man was part hobbit rather than part gnome.

This had made him a little grumpy. "If I'd been part hobbit, I'd have broken Bilbo's long-life record a couple of centuries back, wouldn't I?" he'd complained.

But invariably, when he'd griped about this, he'd invariably murmured to himself with an air of sad sad nostalgia, "good oul' Bilbo. Brave soul. Always had the best pipe-weed."

Jack Staples was a mysterious fellow.)

He yawned and leaned hard on the lower steps of the ladder, his thick grey hair coming up in wild tufts. Absent-mindedly, he retied the belt of his tattered green dressing-gown.

(Not everyone kept the same wild hours as Giovanni Zatara's daughter.)

"Pain in my ass," he mumbled. "I was sure I had one of those. I'm not usually wrong about this sort of thing."

Zatanna slumped a little, understandably crestfallen.

"Nothing?" she sighed. "You're sure you didn't sell it or lend it out?"

"Positive," Jack harrumphed. "It was up there between my first-edition Newt Scamander and a copy of The Morgenstern in the original Florinese. I saw it up there when I was grabbing my copy of The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch for a page-through on my lunch-break, and that was, hrm, a fortnight ago?"

Zatanna sighed heavily, and tucked her hands into her jean pockets. She refrained from blaspheming, but only barely. (John had been a bad influence on her.)

"Another dead end," she mumbled. "This is getting ridiculous."

Half-lidded and yawning, Jack shook his head. "You haven't asked Constantine about this? I bet he'd know."

Zatanna's eye twitched. "This? Is a conspiracy."

Jack seemed to wake up in a hurry. "Hang on. What?"

Zatanna grimaced hard. "Thanks for your help, Jack. But I guess I've only got one place to turn."

Jack gestured dismissively. "Anytime. Just maybe after sun-up next time, 'kay?"

"'Kay," Zatanna nodded, and then steeled herself. "Sriafkcalb ot em gnirb."

She left Patron Saint of Books in the dust.

Jack sneezed loudly, and blasphemed.

********​

Cigarette smoke curled upwards.

John Constantine sat on a bench at Blackfriars Station next to a "no smoking" sign, a Silk Cut between his lips. He was reading to pass the time, the book open in his lap, and he had an empty teacup in a saucer beside him on the bench.

Zatanna appeared with a crackle and a shimmer, and John barely looked up from the book. It was a decent read. "'Ello, Zed."

The sorceress slumped down onto the bench beside the working-class magician, the teacup between them. "Hello, John."

Silence reigned between them, John taking drags and turning pages.

"I see you survived The Ordeal, then," Zatanna mumbled, feeling awkward.

"Oh, yeah," John grunted. "It wasn't nearly so bad as they made it out to be. Walk in the bloody park. Gave me a nice cuppa tea, after. Proper blokes, if a bit 'eavily armed."

Zatanna smiled at this, feebly. "Did they try to give you The Key?"

"Mm," John murmured, cigarette waggling up and down as he spoke. "They seemed a bit relieved when I told them to keep it. (Not interested in any lock I can't magic me way through, or pick, or smash open with a spanner.)"

"Mm," Zatanna nodded.

Silence again reigned for a moment as John continued to read.

"I'm sorry I threw you out," Zatanna mumbled, "and sent you to Blackfriars."

John shrugged. "Deserved it, really. My being paranoid about Alec Holland didn't mean your poor plants should've felt me bladder's wrath."

(This was good. John rarely apologised for being a git, this made a nice change.)

"D'you wanna come home?" Zatanna offered, softly.

"Yeah, sure," John nodded. "Soon as I'm done."

And he turned another page.

Zatanna got a funny feeling in her stomach. This was not a pleasant feeling. At the same time, she felt much of the colour drain out of her face.

"Um," she mumbled, "what are you reading?"

John grimaced, dropped his spent cigarette into the empty teacup. "Fascinating, really. Historical thingy. Went for a walk after The Ordeal, drank me tea, W.H. Smith's down the road was having a rummage sale, I got this for five quid."

Zatanna's eye twitched. She reached down and snatched the book from Constantine's hands.

"Good grief," she whimpered. "I suppose I should have seen this coming."

Deities and Daemons: Rise of the Supermen.

John arched an eyebrow. "Problem?"

Zatanna laughed brokenly, covering her face with one hand.

"I swear to God, Constantine," she mumbled, still laughing, "you and your synchronicity. Sometimes I think you've got more magic in your little finger than I've got in my entire body."

"And what a luverly body it is, too," John nodded happily. "And bearing in mind the reactions my little finger has occasionally elicited from said body--"

Zatanna slugged him in the arm. "Bastard."

John rubbed his arm where she'd hit him, and again nodded, this time sagely. "Well, not technically. But I see how you'd think so."

Cavalierly, he struck a match on the "no smoking" sign and fired up another Silk Cut.

"My friend needs to borrow this," Zatanna explained, holding up the book. "I promise she'll take good care of it, she's always had something of a librarian about her."

John nodded easily, shaking out the match and taking a puff. "Yeah, s'fine. But when she's done, I want to finish that."

Zatanna chuckled and nodded. "Of course."

She held the book aloft: "Elcaro ot koob daolpu."

The volume vanished in a crackle and a shimmer, teleported nigh-instantly to wherever it was that Oracle was headquartered.

"Let's go home," John grunted. "I'm bloody tired and me neck bloody hurts and the sun's been up for hours over here and I think I'm still 'ung over from the other night."

Zatanna grinned. "Yeah. Let's go home. Emoh og s'tel."

Crackle. Shimmer.

 

[Lunaramblings]

Batman toggled the switch again.

"Thank you Oracle. Keep me updated."

Batman walked toward Diana, whom he had seen arrive.

"I appreciate your assistance in Gotham. Things could have gotten ugly. I am going to have to leave for Gotham before too long. Seems I have a new face in the city, and I need to get as much information as possible."

 

[Abraxas Winterlight]

The Scion of Shadow

Morning went through the routine that the persons inhabiting Greystone Manor had established over the month that it had gained a Lord. Breakfast and tea was served at eight sharp, papers were read and news watched in the study, and at nine Mrs. Gillespie headed out to do the shopping and to check on a decent tailor, and I headed out to the lexus dealership via taxi.

Two hours later I was the proud owner of a new car and a new laptop computer. Once I got home I did what the salesman in the electronics store suggested and made some calls to have this "internet" accessed in my home. That would have to wait until tomorrow.

I walked upstairs to the part of the house that nobody but me was allowed. Fishing the key out of my pocket, I walked into my sanctum here on Earth.

Books lined one wall. Tomes, older than I was from several different worlds lay next to the immortal work of Charles Schultz and Tolkien. Another wall held trophies. The skull of a Assassin Daemon that had been sent after me many years ago, the sword of a Balron. A Nazi tank commanders helmet sat on a shelf, along with a shiny metal mask. Panzer may have been the worlds first cyberkinetic. The battlesuit he wore was a incredible piece of work, and the allied forces never did figure out how it operated.

I walked over to a cabinet and got out a decanter of Elverquisst and a crystal goblet. Hmmm, about time to get a new bottle. Have to take a trip down The Hall to Honest Johns.

I wandered back over to the armchair with my glass of golden red wine, and picked back up the book I had been reading. Deities and Daemons: Rise of the Supermen was sorta an autobiography. More than a few old friends and enemies were in the book. I picked back up where I had left off, the part written about me.

Gotham is home to few of the gifted among us. One, a hobo who claims to have the power to make plants grow no matter what lives in a garden in the abandoned subway tunnels under the city. I could not get an interview with him, as he ran when he saw me, but the others in that community of unwanted souls told me that Paul Ivee was a true and trusted friend who kept them alive through the harsh winter months with the bounty he had created deep under the earth.

The other documented hero in the city goes by the name of Wraith.I also failed to gain a interview with him, as he is notoriously shy of both the press and the police, but one reporter on the staff of the Gotham globe, Edward Sullivan has managed to establish a working relationship with this elusive creature. The next segment of this archive are written down from a interview he gave me.

I met Wraith the night he saved my hide. You see, I was staking out one of "Hammerhead" Marchetti's joints on a tip he was running a bar and brothel outta the place. Well, 'ole Hammerhead got wind of it and sent out two huge hunks of beef to teach me a lesson. They had just started working me over when it went dark. I don't mean dark like the lights were out, i mean dark like when you close your eyes for the Big Sleep! Next thing I heard besides the toughs yammering "It's him!!" was a loud sound, like something heavy had landed in front of me. Then the lights came back on and I saw this man-sized creature in front of me. He looked like he was wearing some sort of armor, but it wasn't metal. Even from the back he was pretty spooky. watching him fight though, that was a thing of beauty. He took those two goons down in seconds, then turned to me with an offer I couldn't refuse.

In that spooky voice of his he gave me the scoop of a lifetime. Seems Marchetti had a price on his head, seeings as he was seriously hurting their business, and he had hired some German guy called Blitzkrieg to take out Wraith. One hundred thousand Benjamin's was the fee. Seems wraith wanted proof that this was going down that could be taken to the cops, and I was it.

He held his hand out and the only way I can describe it is we shifted through something that just was not normal. It got dark and cold, but when we came back to earth we were in the loft of a old warehouse on the docks. Below us was a group of wise guys, headed by old Hammerhead himself, and some Blondie guy built like a brick, with lightning bolts tattooed on his arms.

I watched beside the dark spooky guy until Marchetti handed over a briefcase. The big guy looked in it, smiled and closed the case. Thats when Wraith made his move.

Once again it got as dark as the Devil's pockets, and when the lights came on Wraith was standing in the middle of a group of thugs.

"I hear you are looking for me Marchetti. I decided to make things easier on you." He said in that creepy voice of his.

Immediately goons started going for guns, but Wraith was faster. Within seconds he had fired some sort of stuff from his hands and glued Marchetti and two other goons to the walls of the warehouse. One got off a shot, which just bounced off him. that guy went through a wall. The other two tried to run, but got glued like the others.

That left the big guy. He didn't say anything, just slammed his hands together and with a loud CRACK a lightning bolt leaped out and struck Wraith full in the chest, blasting him through a wall.
I couldn't see wraith anymore from where I was, but i saw what he did. Some sort of black energy shot through the hole and blasted the big guy back through what sounded like several walls. Wraith came through the hole and jumped him, and I lost sight of them, but boy could I hear and feel the fight. Lightning bolts and huge crashes like thunder sounded, and weird sounds of when Wraith used his blasts. The whole building was shaking and I thought I was a goner, until it got quiet again.

Thats when the Blondie guy landed face down where it all started, by the briefcase, unconscious. Then Wraith stepped out. He told me to call the cops and tell them what happened, and to tell them to take extra care with the Blondie guy. Then he turned into smoke and vanished!

My editor almost didn't believe me. It took three calls with the Commissioner to convince him that I had not gotten drunk and made this all up.


The rest of the chapter went into a few more details about me, then it ends with my disappearance in '42.

I closed the book and finished the glass of wine. Enough memories, I needed to get out. I closed and locked the door behind me as I left the house and headed downtown. Maybe a walk would be good.

 

[TearsoftheWorld]

"You pay more attention to a human than you do to your own cousin?" Kara inquired curiously, not even trying to mask her contempt for the dark crusader. She could still remember him using some form of weapon against her, stripping her of her ability to fight back.

Even if he did so for his own safety, Kara wasn't quite sure she could trust him.

And she was more than certain he wasn't the type of guy to beg her for forgiveness.

The Dark Knight had few friends, and preferred it that way.

Finally Kara folded her arms, the stubbornness of the house of El showing through brightest of all through her, the daughter of Zor-El.

"I don't need any training, Kal-El. I am perfectly capable of handling myself in the world. What is there to be afraid of that we cannot handle?" she asked, still naive of the dangers that the real world held. Kara glanced at the Amazons as they gathered about the super powered beings, and she saw in them a fierce determination to prove themselves.

 

[LuckyVic]

"Kara there are some on this world that would accept us whole heartedly, and then there are others that would do whatever is in their power to destroy us." he began to tell her. "We have great abilities here, but we are not gods nor are we unstopable. We can be hurt and.... even killed." the later bringing back memories of his confrontation with Doomsday.

"These people here are some of my friends. They can keep you safe as you adjust to all your new abilities. And you'll also have an advantage that I didn't have in learning how to use your powers. You'll have me." he said with a big smile on his face. "I have had many friends, I even was fortunate to have a family and a special someone that loves me for who I am. But even then there were times I've felt alone, thanks to you that isn't so anymore. And I just want to make sure that you are prepared for what your going to find out there." he told her.

 

[Wyldfire]

Oracle.

The Bat had ended that quickly enough. Oracle wasn't surprised by that, but now and then letting her know he was human would be a nice change of pace. She turned away from the screen to get another cup of coffee...

She froze! There at the coffee table was a book that hadn't been there before. She carefully wheeled to it and checked the title. It was the book. The book she had been after. Damn her to hell, Z had managed to not only get a copy of the book, but got it to her! Coffee forgotten, Barbara opened the book and began reading. There were certain advantages to speed reading and an eidetic memory.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Wonder Woman

Batman walked toward Diana, whom he had seen arrive.

"I appreciate your assistance in Gotham. Things could have gotten ugly. I am going to have to leave for Gotham before too long. Seems I have a new face in the city, and I need to get as much information as possible."

"I have seen your 'new face,'" Diana mused, rubbing her upper arm half-distractedly as she continued to observe Kal consoling The Girl, who seemed sternly dubious of something that Kal had suggested. (One of these days, Diana was going to have to learn Kryptonian.)

"He is indeed a mystery," Diana reflected. "It seems this is what we are all about, these days. 'Identity.' This Girl, this... 'Wraith.' Even amongst ourselves, we quest for discovery of ourselves. Finding out who we are as The Earth spins."

She smiled faintly. "When you encounter Wraith, try not to injure him too badly. I have learned the identity of another, and this I think is news he has been waiting to hear."

 

[Lunaramblings]

Batman looked at Diana. He looked hard.

"I know who I am. I know what I am. Would you tell me what you know of this guy. He is... different. I met him earlier. Before I meet him again I will have to due my research. I promise you this much Diana, if he is as you believe, a person of worth, I won't hurt him. If he turns out to be on the wrong side... then I make no such promise.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Wonder Woman

"I know that he is more like you than either of you would probably like to admit," Diana chuckled, intentionally roguish. "You could have been him, I think, had you been born three quarters of a century earlier. He is armoured outside and wounded inside; he has loved and he has lost. According to Doctor Fate, he fought in World War II, alongside a team that preferred to stay out of the limelight and the patriotic propaganda films. According to my mother, the woman he once loved, and once lost, was a warrior born, as if the man could not give of his heart to any other kind of creature but one as strong as he."

Absently, Diana tucked a wavy lock of ebon hair behind her ear.

"He seemed preoccupied with efficiency -- as we had the situation with The Girl in hand, he would waste time on it no longer," she continued, "and first and foremost his concern seemed to be innocent life, and law and order. Granted, I cannot be positive what to make of him, he may well still be a threat -- but many even good men wonder the same of you when first your shadow falls upon their path."

Sidelong, she regarded Bruce, her blue eyes examining him in minute detail, as a tiny smirk tickled the curve of her lips.

"The only point on which I can see you two readily disagreeing," she reflected, "is that you generally mislike magickal things to the point of despising them. Whereas he? Wreathes himself in them. He smells of magic very strongly. My hunter's senses cannot pinpoint the type of magic... but the aroma was unmistakably mystical."

She strode forward a little bit, away a little bit, closer to The Girl and The Icon a little bit, glancing over her shoulder at The Detective as she went.

"Knowing who and what you are," she reminded him, "is but a single step on a journey of a thousand miles. Finding out what you could become... this is a destination. I thought I knew; I thought I had reached my journey's end. I had died, I had... achieved apotheosis. But now here I am again, and all my answers are questions anew."

Diana turned more fully to face him, and regarded him sternly, and wisely.

"I would not have it any other way."

 

[Lunaramblings]

Batman said nothing further. He instead toggled a button on his belt. Turned a dial.

"Watchtower. I need pick up. Themyscira. Now."

Batman waited a moment. Watching Diana walk toward the two apparent Kryptonians.

Could be worse. Could be another damn dog. Bruce thinks.

"Diana. Keep me apprised of the situation."

There was a flash of light and Batman found himself back in the Cave. Standing only a few feet from the pod Dick had retrieved from the bay. Batman looks carefully at it. Symbols, like those he has seen in Clark's "Fortress". Whoever was behind this was thorough.

Batman then notices the large box beside it. A note. From Dick.

Bruce. This is for your own good. Enjoy.

Batman opens the box to find a small dog. A puppy. A German Shepard/Great Dane mix.

For the first time since Jason, Bruce Wayne smiles a true, heart felt smile. If only a little.

Great. Now I have one too.

 

[Wyldfire]

Huntress.

Helena arrived at her place and slipped out of the costume making sure to put everything in it's place and making sure the weapons were ready to be inspected later for maintenance. As she walked past the stereo she turned it on. A heavy drumbeat was joined by heavy guitar. The vocals began:

"I feel insane every single time
I'm asked to compromise
Cause I'm afraid, I'm stuck in my ways
And that's the way you stay-ay-ay
So how long did I expect love to out weigh ignorance
Now that look on your face may force the scale to tip

I'm not insane, I'm not insane
I'm not insane, I'm not - not insane"

The woman known as Huntress danced to the song, mixing modern dance with the ballet she had mastered early in life. She wasn't self conscious in the least to be dancing through the penthouse, even if she was only wearing a thong and her bra.

"(I'm not)
Come back to me, it's almost easy
(Set it off)
Come back again, it's almost easy

Shame pulses through my heart
From the things I've done to you
It's hard to face, but the fact remains
This is nothing new

I let you down inside with suicidal memories
Selfish beneath the skin
But deep inside I'm not insane.

I'm not insane, I'm not insane.
I'm not insane, I'm not - not insane.

(I'm not)
Come back to me, it's almost easy
(Set it Off)
Come back to me, it's almost easy
(You learned your lesson)
Come back again, it's almost easy
(It's still your fault)
Come back again, it's almost easy"

The dance matched the intensity of the music and the vocals, the young woman focused on nothing but the dance and the music. It was her most private way of letting the stress of being the Huntress.

"Now that I've lost you it kills me to say
(Hurts to say)
I try to hold on as you slowly slip away.
I'm losing the fight.
Treated you so wrong, now let me make it right.
(Make it all right)

I'm not insane, I'm not insane. (chuckling)
I'm not insane, I'm not - not insane.

(I'm not)
Come back to me, it's almost easy
(Set it Off)
Come back again, it's almost easy
(You learned your lesson)
Come back to me, it's almost easy
(It's still your fault)
Come back again, it's almost easy."

As the song drifted to it's end she entered the kitchen and poured herself a large glass of orange juice and drained the first half in one gulp, then began sipping delicately at the rest of it as she checked the mail, e-mail, and voice messages. Sometimes it was nice not having to have a day job, she couldn't see how she would manage at night if she had to pull a nine to fiver.

 

[ChasNicollette]

Wonder Woman and The Amazons

"Diana. Keep me apprised of the situation."

There was a flash of light. And then he was gone.

Diana smiled faintly.

She only hoped he had taken what she'd said to heart. She knew he often felt just as lost as the rest of them, especially since. Jason.

Poor, poor, lost little boy. Dead while searching for his mother.

Dead while searching for his identity.

And now Bruce is haunted by still another shade -- as if those of his parents were not enough.

Hesitating before reaching the two Kryptonians, hesitant to interrupt their talk, Diana instead moved to Phillipus and Artemis.

"Speaking of apprisal," she murmured softly. "How is everything going?"

"I think that The Icon thinks this girl is legitmate," Phillipus remarked.

"...as opposed to illegitimate," Artemis added, utterly deadpan.

Diana blinked.

"Sorry," Artemis chuckled. "Inside joke."

"It would seem," Phillipus continued, shaking her head and trying to keep from smirking, "that Kal-El wishes The Girl to remain here for a time while further assessments are made. If he does officially request that she be granted sanctuary here, would you be amenable to this?"

Arching an eyebrow, Diana mused: "You hardly need to ask my permission for such things, Chancellor. My royal title is only ceremonial now; this was Mother's final decree before she and I switched places on Olympus."

"Diana," Phillipus smiled faintly. "Is it okay with you that she stay here?"

Diana nodded slowly. "Of course. I would be happy to extend my hospitality to her. And if things go wrong... if things go wrong..."

She trailed off for a moment. "This could be a terrible mistake. Too recently Darkseid tramped our shores with his elite parademons. And I cannot remain here all hours of every day, my duties preclude this."

"You do not need to," Artemis murmured, with the emphatic purr of a warrioress born and bred. "I could wear the artefacts again, The Sandals and The Gauntlet. And I guarantee you I will keep her in line should she stray."

"Works for me," Phillipus nodded.

"This is not unreasonable," Diana nodded. "There are few I would trust with this task more than yourself, Artemis. (And on top of that, a few thousand magical bladed weapons might make a Kryptonian sleeper agent think twice. If she is a sleeper agent, which I highly doubt.)"

Artemis grinned, and turned, and went to run to the armoury for her gear... and then hesitated.

Her scarlet pony-tail whisking in the wind, she glanced over her shoulder at Phillipus and Diana. "I get to wear the uniform again."

Phillipus made a face like she was about to cough up diamonds. "Artemis! I beg your pardon?"

Artemis barely batted an eyelash at Phillipus' protest: "I promise not to fill it out as well as she does."

Diana threw her arms around herself and laughed delightedly, eyes closed and head bowed and face flushing lightly around the edges with the force of her laughter. It felt... good. It felt surpassingly good... she hadn't laughed this heartily in a good long while.

A little laughing tear ran down her face, and she looked up at Phillipus and nodded. "She gets to wear the uniform again."

Phillipus blinked. "If... if you say so, Diana. (Though I had thought that there should only ever be one Wonder Woman at a time.)"

"One Wonder Woman for the mainlands," Diana declared, amending an age-old rule, "and another for The Island. One from the Themysciran tribes, another from the Bana. To this, I am certainly amenable."

Artemis' eyes sparked like lightning, and she sprinted off like the wind, like she needed no gods-gifted Sandals to run like Hermes.

"Interesting times," Phillipus commented wryly, "call for interesting measures."

"May the gods ever defend us," Diana smiled cheerfully, "against uninteresting times."