Choices of the Gods

"...Are they... dead?" Hal asked.

   "It's hard to say," Barry replied. "The speedster just warped himself and the lady into a rift in time. I don't know if either or them could survive that."

   "Best guess?"

   "Well, from what I can tell, the Speed Force is protective, so they're probably alive... but lost somewhere."

   "But Diana is definitely dead," Zatanna said somberly.

   Clark felt a slight surge of anger rush through him. "How can you know that?" he asked.

   "Her soul is no longer attached to her body, and her body's been destroyed. No matter how you look at it, that's death."

   Hippolyta still sat on the beach, unblinking. She hadn't moved an inch since Diana's death, her fingers clasped tightly around her daughter's empty, sand-covered clothing.

   Barry crouched beside her. "Ma'am?" he said gently. But she did not respond. He waved his hands across her face, but she didn't react.

   "Guys, I think she's in shock."

   Clark shut his eyes and thought furiously. His hands clenched into fists that could shatter steel.

   There must be a way, he thought. She can't be dead.

   Clark's eyes opened.

   "I'll be right back."

   Clark lifted off the ground and floated towards the mountain.

   He landed at the doorway of the Temple of the Gods—the same temple that Circe had thrown him out of earlier. It now lay empty and dark.

   Clark stepped inside. The entire interior was made of a huge circular room lined with columns that separated twelve tapestries along the walls—a tapestry each for the twelve ruling gods of Mount Olympus. Clark recognized each of them: Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, Athena, Demeter, Ares, Hermes, Apollo, Artemis, Hestia, Hephaestus, and Aphrodite.

   Clark raised his voice, as if to challenge the heavens themselves.

   "I KNOW YOU'RE HERE. SHOW YOURSELVES."

   The room's pervasive darkness faded as the twelve tapestries shivered and began to faintly glow.

   Zeus's tapestry began to glow more brightly than the others. A voice called out from it—proud and powerful.

   "YOU DARE MAKE DEMANDS OF OLYMPUS, MORTAL?" it boomed.

   "YES, I DO."

   Another voice—the softer and feminine voice of Hera—echoed in response. "We know of you, Kal-El of Krypton. Why do you call upon Olympus? What is it you desire?"

   "...I want you to restore Diana's life."

   Zeus's voice echoed like thunder as it laughed.

   "We granted life to that girl once. We shall not do it again."

   Clark felt his eyes burn with anger. "It's because of you that she's dead now! You were the ones who let Circe go free!"

   "It was not our intent to cause suffering," Hera replied. "We had no way of knowing what she would do. My husband is correct; we already granted Diana a second chance at life, in order to settle a debt to the Amazon people. A third chance will not be granted."

   "A second chance?"

   "Diana was not conceived in Themyscira," a third voice said. Clark recognized its tapestry as belonging to Athena. "She was conceived before the battle which destroyed the Amazons' former nation. In that battle, Hippolyta was injured, and her baby died while still in the womb. We placed that child's soul into a new body."

   "So do it again. You owe her that much."

   "I owe Diana of Themyscira NOTHING," Zeus replied.

   "The hell you don't! You let Circe out of prison and didn't to a thing to stop her, even while she gathered power from THIS TEMPLE. YOUR TEMPLE."

   "ENOUGH!" Zeus yelled. "You should know better, boy, than to lecture gods on morality!"

   "You're not gods. You're selfish beings who sit on a mountaintop and deal out false justice."

   "You blaspheme ME?! I could smite you from the earth where you stand!"

   Clark put one foot forward in challenge, cracking the stone floor beneath it.
   "Do it, then."

   Zeus's tapestry flared with anger, then silently faded into darkness. One by one, the others faded as well, until only Athena remained.

   "I congratulate you, Kal-El," said Athena. "I know of no one before who has forced Zeus to withdraw."

   Clark was confused. "But... why?"

   "You are more powerful than you know. And in this age, we are weakened. Very few still pray to Olympus, and our power therefore wanes."

   "...Can you do anything?" Clark pleaded.

   "Without the consent of Zeus, no. I am sorry."

   Athena's light faded, and Clark was once again alone in the darkness.

   Clark walked back to the beach. The others wanted to ask him if he'd found any help, but his silence gave them their answer.

   "What happened?" Bruce asked.

   "I went to ask the 'gods' to restore Diana's spirit. They said no."

   Hal hung his head. "So she's really gone."

   Clark took a deep breath. "Not yet."

   Clark walked to the sands where Diana had disintegrated, and knelt. Taking another deep breath, he shut his eyes.

   The others watched from afar.

   "What's he doing?" Hal whispered to Bruce.

   "Hell if I know," said Bruce.

   Slowly, the sands at Clark's knees began to glitter and glow. Clark leaned back in surprise, and Hippolyta finally broke from her shock. Gradually, the sands began to swirl in a small gust of wind, collecting into a vaguely humanoid shape. The grains of sand slipped into the whole, as if each grain had a specific purpose and place.  The shape grew larger and firmer, until finally it settled into the shape of a young woman's body. Silently, the sands faded into smooth skin.

   Her eyes shot open and she inhaled sharply, as though breathing for the first time. Diana was alive again. She looked at Clark, confused.

   "C-Clark, what..."

   Hippolyta was overcome with joy and relief. "Diana!" she said, wrapping her daughter in her arms.

   Diana hugged her mother back, still more confused than anything else.

   Clark took off the red jacket he was wearing and wrapped it around Diana's naked body.

   Barry, Hal, and Bruce looked at each other.

   "Um... what just happened?" Barry asked.

   A gentle wisp of wind blew from behind the group, and footsteps crunched the sand.

   "Diana's life has been restored," a voice said.

   The group looked to this new figure. He wore a navy-blue cloak and hat, with a golden amulet around his neck.

   "You," Diana said. "I know you; you were in Metropolis three weeks ago."

   "And you know the Zataras," Bruce added. "Who are you?"

   "I have been known by many names over many ages, but most call me the Phantom Stranger. I am a servant of the Almighty."

   "The Almighty?" said Hippolyta. "Do you refer to Olympus?"

   "No. I serve a higher power."

   "Why am I alive?" Diana asked.

   "The powers of Olympus crafted your body imperfectly, and it is because of their foolishness that the sorceress Circe was able to exploit the flaw in their magics. Because of this injustice, you have been granted a new life; one not cut short by supernatural forces beyond control."

   "...I feel different," Diana said.

   The Phantom Stranger nodded. "Though still welded from the sands of the Earth, your body is now true flesh and blood. Your former powers remain, but you are no longer in danger of reverting to dust again."

   "What about the other kid? The speedster?" Barry asked. "Do you know anything about him?"

   "He is safe for the moment, trapped in the seas of time. Friends of his and mine are retrieving him as we speak; they will return with him soon. For now, you should return home. The spell over the Amazons will break at sunrise, and they do not take lightly to invaders."

   The Phantom Stranger faded into the night, and was gone.

   Clark turned to Diana. "So... do you remember anything at all?"

   Diana thought for a moment. "...Nothing after Circe knocked me out at school. But... after I... died... I remember a bit. I could still see what was happening, like in a dream." She turned to Clark and smiled. "I remember you. You wouldn't give up on me." She frowned. "But... the gods. They did. They wouldn't restore me."

   "It is not our place to question the gods," Hippolyta reminded her daughter. But Diana didn't respond.

   The sun was beginning to rise on the horizon. Hal checked his watch. "Okay, we need to be leaving now if we wanna get home before sunrise hits the U.S."

   Clark began to walk towards the others and the Javelin. Diana moved to follow, but Hippolyta held her by the arm and stopped her.

   "Mother?" said Diana.

   "We are not leaving, Diana."

   Everyone else stopped.

   "What do you mean?" Diana asked.

   Hippolyta hung her head. "I have been away from my people for far too long, and I fear you have as well."

   "Mother... I don't want to stay here. I can't stay here."

   "This is your home, Diana."

   "No! I can't just hide on this island for all eternity; I want to go back to America."

   "You have no choice in this matter. I am staying, and so are you."

   Diana stiffened. "No. I'm leaving."

   Hippolyta, surprised by her daughter's rebellion, felt worry creep into her mind. "Please, daughter, I have already lost you once tonight. Don't make me lose you again."

   Diana wiped a tear from her cheek. "Sorry, mother."

   With that, Diana turned and walked away.

   Clark, noting Diana's distress, put his arm around her as they walked. She leaned on him and sobbed into his shoulder as she left her Paradise Island behind.

The Battle

The skeletal corpses walked ever-closer while the stone golem loomed above.

   Bart looked around. "What do we do?" he asked the others.

   Hippolyta unsheathed one of her swords and brought her shield forward. "We fight."

   Hippolyta ran towards the throng of skeletons. As if in response, the skeletons quickened their speed to match her.

   Zatanna planted her feet firmly in the sand and began to concentrate.

   "Tlah sesproc!"

   Nothing.

   "Yortsed sesproc!"

   Nothing.

   They must be counter-cursed, she thought to herself. My magic has no effect.

   Clark lifted off the ground and began to drift toward the golem. The golem raised a slow arm, but Clark was already moving too quickly—or so it seemed. The golem's hand suddenly moved towards Clark at lightning speed, slamming him with a literal ton of force. Clark was thrown into the ground twenty yards away, creating a sand-cloud in his wake.

   Hippolyta twisted and struck at the skeletons with her blade. In battle, she was a wonder to behold. It was said that she stood above all others in true skill; that she, the Queen of the Amazons, was the mightiest warrior in all the earth. Here, it certainly seemed to be true. She ducked under the sword of one corpse, and parried the strike of another. Her sword came up and stabbed through the mouth of one skeleton. The corpse completely ignored this, and continued its assault. Hippolyta withdrew her blade and stepped back. She mentally derided herself: of course such an attack would have no effect; these corpses have no flesh to injure. When another skeleton moved towards her, however, she merely slammed her sword sideways into its head, full-force. The steel blade smashed through the skull, and the skeleton flopped to the ground, fully "dead" once more.

   Bart ran alongside Hippolyta, doing his best to keep the extra skeletons off her back—and to make sure he dodged all the swinging blades himself. It was difficult work. The skeletons crowded the beach, leaving Bart no extra space to run. In effect, he was completely out of his element.

   Bruce stayed back from the battle, initially. He didn't have Hippolyta's heightened strength, and therefore wasn't able to smash through the enemies as easily. He also didn't have a weapon.

   One lone skeleton noticed Bruce, stopped, then ran towards him, spear raised. Bruce waited for the skeleton to get just close enough, then made his move. When the spear came down, Bruce spun to the side, wrapped his hands around the wooden shaft, then brought his ankles up towards the skeleton's neck. With a hard twist, he snapped the corpse's head right off its neck. The skeleton fell to the ground, lifeless. Bruce hefted the spear in his hand. "Heh. This'll do."
   Bruce ran into the fray of bones and swords, angling his spear into the ribcage of a skeleton as he did so. He put his full bodily force on the shaft, causing it to shatter the skeleton's entire midsection. He ducked under another skeleton's blow, then brought the back end of his spear directly onto the corpse's neck, snapping it in two.
   Zatanna focused with all her ability. If she couldn't directly attack the skeletons, perhaps she could affect them indirectly. She mentally picked out a target, and set her mind on the space between its ribs. She took a deep breath, and held out her hand.
   "Ria edolpx!"
   Violet sparks tingled across Zatanna's fingers, and the open space inside the skeleton's gut exploded with flame and bursting air. Broken bones flew in every direction, and what was left of the corpse wasn't enough to hold onto what little false life it had been given.
   Zatanna breathed a sigh of relief, but felt herself weaken slightly. Though she was what most would consider a prodigy of the mystical arts, she was only seventeen, and had an infinite amount of knowledge and skill yet to gain. That single attack drained her a bit. She guessed that she could only pull off that attack another dozen or so times before becoming exhausted.
   Clark rose up from the ground, flying back at the golem. This time he dodged the golem's sudden punch, and landed a punch of his own squarely on the golem's head. A loud CRACK sounded as a fist of steel collided with a face of stone. The sixty-foot-tall monster staggered backwards, his face cracked from the blow. It seemed to groan in pain—or mere annoyance—and swung its left arm in Clark's direction. Clark barely swerved out of the way.
   Clark was caught off-guard here: he'd never had to control his flight so precisely. Before, he'd mostly only had to focus on direction: up, down, sideways, forward, backward, et cetera. He'd never had to be so quick in dodging fast-moving heavy objects aimed at him. Flight was somewhat intuitive, but there were still intricacies that he had yet to master.

   Hippolyta stabbed, struck, slashed, and kicked at every enemy in sight. But they were too many for her. One caught her across the back with his sword, cutting away part of her white robe. Another nicked her side with the tip of his blade, and another slashed away at her belly. Eventually, her robe was in tatters. When she found a brief few-second break in the fighting, she tore the white cloth away, revealing thick leather armor lined with gold. Her battle-spirit renewed, she charged back into combat.
   Clark and the golem exchanged punches, each successful strike sending a mild shockwave through the air. Clark almost began to sweat. Finally, he decided that this was enough. He focused all his willpower into a single motion as he sped forward through the air, striking the golem's head with enough force to break a tank in half. The golem's face exploded, and it fell back into the sand, lying motionless.
   Suddenly, the mountain-temple erupted with an even brighter light.
   "Clark!" Hippolyta yelled. "Circe is nearly done! Hurry!"
   Clark nodded at Hippolyta and turned to fly towards the mountain.
   "Wait, Clark!" Zatanna called after him. "I can give you a little protection. Hang on."
   "Nrut cimag ot citenik dleihs."
   A purple bubble briefly appeared around Clark before fading away.
   "There," Zatanna said. "That should help. Now go!"
   Clark nodded and thanked her before flying away.

   Bart looked across the fire-lit beach. Zatanna was barely able to stand, Bruce had a deep cut along his shoulderblade, and Hippolyta wasn't much better off. And there were still two dozen more skeletons to contend with. Bart felt something hit his head, and he fell to the ground. A skeleton raised his spear, a mere second away from the killing blow. Bart's legs were pinned down by the skeleton's broken, bony feet. He couldn't move.
   Suddenly, Bart felt a tingle. A kind of gentle electricity, running through his nerves. He recognized it immediately: the sensation he always felt when he accessed the Speed Force. But this was different. It wasn't a result of anything Bart was doing... it was a ripple of something else happening. Someone else nearby was using the Speed Force.
   Bart saw a blurred red fist covered in golden lightning strike the skull of the corpse above him, shattering it into a thousand pieces. The blur settled into the shape of a young man with his hand outstretched towards Bart.
   "Hey. Barry Allen. Nice to meet you."
   Bart felt surprise shoot through his body, and he leaped up to his feet at super-speed without taking Barry's hand.
   "Woah!" Barry said with surprise. "Another speedster, eh? Cool. Wanna help me take out these guys?"
   "Uh, sure, but... how?" Bart nervously asked.
   "You're connected to the Speed Force. I can feel it running inside you." Barry raised his fist. "Just coat your fist in the Speed energy when you make a punch; it'll take away the impact force so you won't break your hand."
   And with that, Barry zoomed away, Bart close behind him.

   Bart had a meager understanding of his powers, but Barry seemed to know them completely–almost as if he were speed itself incarnate. As if the Speed Force itself didn't just flow through him, but from him. With the red jacket he wore, he was a blur of constant motion, zig-zagging back and forth between each skeleton, taking down each with a simple speed-punch. Bart joined in as well, and within two seconds, the two of them completely eliminated the undead enemies—all before the first skeleton hit the ground.
   Bruce, Hippolyta, Bart, Barry, and Zatanna exchanged glances for a moment.
   The ground roared again. The golem had not, in fact, been defeated. It rose up and began walking towards the group once more.
   The whine of jet engines preceded a rapid flash of light and a thunderous rattle from behind the group. A spray of huge bullets pounded into the golem's belly, shredding its midsection. Within seconds, the five-story-tall stone monster had melted into dirt and gravel.
   The Javelin hovered over the gentle waves of the ocean, its 20mm rotary cannon still red-hot and spinning.
   Everyone was either too exhausted or confused to speak for the next moment as the Javelin set down on the beach next to the group. When the boarding ramp lowered, Hal walked out.
   "Barry! Man, you have a ridiculous sense of timing."
   "Ha! Look who's talking, 'Highball.'"
   Zatanna looked back and forth between Barry and Hal. "Wait, what's going on? Who are you, blondie?"
   Barry awkwardly felt through his hair. It wasn't that blonde, was it?
   "This is Barry Allen," Hal explained. "He's that friend of mine that I said I tried calling. I left him a message with the island's coordinates."
   "Took me a half-hour to get here, running across the ocean like that," Barry said with a smile.
   Zatanna was a bit unbelieving. "You ran across the ocean?"
   "Yeah. If you move your feet fast enough, there's no reason you can't just bounce off water."
   "We do not have time for this!" Hippolyta yelled. "My daughter is—"
   An explosion of light burst from the temple. Out of nowhere, Clark fell backwards out of the sky and slammed into the beach, as though he'd been tossed by the very light from the temple.

   A laugh sounded from the night sky above—feminine, cackling, and mischievous. Circe gently floated down towards the beach, Diana's unconscious body hanging limply by the collar in her hand.
   "Oh, you little mortals. So brave, so confident, so sure of yourselves... so fragile. I must admit, though, I'm a little confused. Why exactly are you all coming to save little miss princess here? I mean, Hippolyta I get. I turned her into a pig a few centuries ago, attacked her people just now, blah blah. She's got a bitch to burn. But what about the rest of you?"
   "Diana's our friend," Clark said painfully as he slowly pulled himself up off the ground. "We'll do whatever it takes to help her."
   Circe was amused by Clark's resoluteness. "Really... are you willing to die?" Circe dropped Diana's limp body on the ground and raised her hands. Blinding trails of fiery light and wind swirled all about the beach.
   Hippolyta ran at Circe, sword in hand. Circe noticed, but didn't move in the slightest. Before Hippolyta could reach Circe, she slammed into an invisible wall.
   "Clever, huh?" Circe said. "Y'see, Hippolyta, the gods figured that you'd eventually want revenge on me for what happened before. But I've already served my sentence and been released. So they had this nice little bubble-shield made for me. Keeps you from coming within five feet of me. Of course, it also stops me from coming near you, but that's not really important at the moment."
   A voice sounded from Circe's other side. "See if it can stop this."
   Circe turned just in time to see Barry's fist hit her face. She fell over and mentally cursed at herself for forgetting to put a protection spell over herself earlier. Oh well, no matter. Now was as good a time as any.
   Circe stood again, now with a thin translucent purple layer of light over her skin. Barry ran up and hit her in the face once more, but Circe barely flinched. She backhanded Barry, and her magical power tossed him thirty feet away.
   "Tfarc rallip fo erif!"
   Some of the flames that swirled above Circe's head came flying down in a burning pillar. Circe screamed momentarily, but quickly extinguished the flames, mostly unhurt by Zatanna's attack. Circe turned toward the little magician.
   "Nice move, kid. Sorry, hate to kill a fellow witch and all, but—"
   Circe fired a blast of sand at Zatanna—which transformed in mid-air into a swarm of knives. In the blink of an eye, Clark moved in the way, the knives shattering on his chest.
   Bart ran over to Barry. "Got any other awesome ideas?" he asked.
   "Yeah, actually," Barry said with a smile.
   Circe suddenly felt winds swirling close about her. Two crimson blurs ran in a tight circle, creating a vortex of wind and sand. Circe was surrounded by a wall of sand; she couldn't see a thing through it.
   A blurred fist struck out at her from within the wall. And another. And another, and another... A flurry of a hundred punches smashed into Circe, beating her down even despite her protective shield.
   Circe, bruised and slightly bloodied, fell to her knees. No, she thought. This would not end here.
   Circe yelled, sending a powerful shockwave across the entire beach. Bart and Barry were sent skipping across the sands, too stunned to get back up.
   Clark swiftly flew towards Circe, but she stopped him in mid-air.
   "I finally figured it out," she said smugly, turning to Zatanna. "You put a spell on him to turn magical power into physical power, right?"
   Circe snapped her fingers, and the invisible shield around Clark reappeared before shattering. Circe grinned. "Too late for you now, boy."
   Bruce pole-vaulted off his spear and landed both feet in Circe's face. Clark fell harmlessly to the ground.
   "ENOUGH!!" Circe yelled, slapping Bruce away and placing her other hand on Diana's body.
   "BY THE POWER OF HECATE, I BREAK THIS SPELL AND TAKE ITS POWER."
   Diana's eyes snapped open, and her body began to glow with gentle sunlight.
   "NO!" Hippolyta yelled. But she couldn't reach her daughter or Circe; the protection spell prevented her from getting close enough.

   Bart slowly lifted his head off the ground and took everything in: Barry and Bruce were barely conscious, Clark was mostly powerless against Circe, Hippolyta couldn't do a thing, Zatanna looked like she was about to faint from exhaustion, and although Hal had run back to the Javelin, it looked like he wasn't going to get it off the ground in time to use its guns to save Diana.
   Bart saw it all in slow-motion. Circe was drawing magical power from Diana, and there didn't seem to be anything anyone could do to stop her. Bart felt helpless. All he could do was run and try to hit Circe as fast as possible. But without Barry helping him, he didn't think that would be much help.
   But, he realized, there was one other thing... one power he hadn't considered. It would be a risk, and likely a one-way trip. After all, without Barry's cosmic treadmill, there was no way to control it. But it was the only option, and Bart was willing to do it.
   Bart stood up, took a deep breath, and ran. He slammed into Circe, picked her up off the ground, and immediately jumped into a level of speed so fast that he literally broke the laws of timespace. In a single flash of light, he and Circe completely disappeared.

   The others stood in shocked silence. Hal ran up behind them from the Javelin.
   "What happened?" Hal asked.
   "I think..." Barry said, slowly getting up. "...your friend just carried that witch lady into... time."
   "How is that possible?" Bruce asked.
   "I don't know... I wasn't even sure it was possible until now. And he barely knows how to use the Speed Force... I don't think he's coming back."

   Hippolyta knelt at Diana's side.
   "...Mom?" Diana said weakly. "Mom, I..."
   Diana began to glow with light again.
   "Oh no," Zatanna said, horrified. "The spell is still breaking. It hasn't stopped."
   Diana's breathing slowed, and her skin began to turn a pale shade of brown. Life faded from her as her body quickly transformed entirely into sand, gently melting back into the beach from whence it came.
   Diana of Themyscira was no more.

Landing

Bart hated sitting still.  Unless he was tired, of course—which was actually a lot of the time. Now, however, he was wide awake and couldn't be more annoyed. A strange thing about speedsters: when they're bored and don't have anything to keep their focus in the moment, their perception speeds up, and—on a mental level—minutes literally become hours.
   Bart glanced up and saw Hal staring at him from the next seat over.
   Bart shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Somethin' wrong?"
   "No," Hal said curiously. "You just look really familiar."
   Bart's eyes sank to the floor with embarrassment.
   Hal realized he had struck on something. "Hey, what did you say your last name was?"
   "I... uh..." Bart stuttered nervously for a moment, then sighed with resignation. "Allen."
   "Huh. And you said you have super-speed powers?"
   "...Yeah."
   "So... Bart; is that short for Bartholomew?"
   "Yeah."
   "I know another guy named Bartholomew Allen. Except he goes by Barry. But he's got speed powers too, and looks a lot like you."
   Bart didn't answer.
   "...But it looks like you already knew that."
   Bart's continued silence was confirmation enough.
   "So, what are you guys? Cousins?"
   " ...No."
   "But you're related?"
   "Yeah."
   "Okay. But how? I mean, Barry's sure that he doesn't know about anyone else with powers like his. I'm pretty sure he'd know about someone in his own family with the same abilities."
   Bart muttered under his breath. "There shouldn't be... yet."
   Hal's ears were just sharp enough to pick out what Bart was saying. "Wait, what do you mean 'yet?'"
   Bart was silent again.
   "Wait," Hal said, realization creeping into his voice. "Are you... from the future?"
   Bart was completely surprised, and very confused. "How did you know?!"
   Hal smiled. "Barry's a real science geek. He's been trying to figure his powers out for a while, and he thinks there's a way to link the Speed Force to timespace itself."
   Bart's eyes widened. "You know about the Speed Force?"
   Hal shrugged. "That's what Barry calls it. He figures it's some kinda extra-dimensional energy field that gives him his powers. And since it's not part of this dimension, it can bypass some of the laws of physics. So I'm guessing he's right? And that you're proof of it?"
   Bart nodded.
   "You seem shocked," Hal said.
   "Well, it's just... no one's ever actually figured me out. The cool thing about being from the future is... no one would ever think you're from the future."
   Hal shrugged. "Weird things are going on these days. I mean, people with superpowers, the magic chick... I'm still wrapping my head around the fact that I dated an Amazon last semester. Heck, even this plane is sort of unreal, in a technological sense. You know how fast the fastest plane in the world is?"
   "SR-71 Blackbird. Mach 3.5"
   "Heh. Shoulda guessed you'd know your speed trivia. Yeah, that's the world record for airspeed. Guess how fast we're going right now?"
   Bart focused on his feet as they touched the floor of the plane cabin. His powers gave him an uncanny ability to understand the relative speed of objects. "I... I can't even tell that we're moving at all."
   Hal grinned. "Yeah. That's because we've got kinetic projectors dampening the inertia of the plane's interior. But we're actually going at Mach 8."
   Bart was hesitant to believe that.
   "Yeah," Hal said, "the only thing I know that can move faster is maybe Barry."
   A small beeping alert sounded from the autopilot console, and Hal moved back to the pilots' seat.
   "Okay. We're here."

   Hal gently eased back on the throttle, engaged the reverse thrusters, dialed up the inertial dampeners, and hit the air brakes. Within seconds, the Javelin slowed to a gentle 130 MPH.
   The group moved to the front of the cockpit to look out on the horizon. They saw nothing but open ocean and moonlight.
   Hal sent an uneasy look Hippolyta's way. "You're sure it's supposed to be here?"
   Hippolyta didn't even make eye contact with him. "Yes. Keep going."
   The air in front of the Javelin rippled and twisted, as though the craft moved through some barely-visible barrier. When the distortion faded, an island sat in the waters.
   It was crescent-shaped, with a wide, pale-sanded beach on the inner curve. The entire land mass was set on a raised circular section of water. Bruce recalled his studies of naval warfare and thought this brilliant: even if someone were to somehow find this island, there was no possible way to land. The whole of Themyscira was surrounded by waterfalls.
   A small city with a few dozen stone buildings sat in the island's center, with a few other much larger structures set farther out across the land mass. One such structure, a circular temple built into the side of a small mountain, glowed with a bright violet light.

   "Land there," Hippolyta said, pointing to the beach directly in front of the city.
   "How exactly are we gonna land this thing?" Zatanna asked.
   "No worries, princess. We've got VTOL capability," Hal said, flipping a switch on his left.
   "And what exactly does that m—"
   Zatanna's sentence was cut off by a slight rumble that shook the floor of the Javelin, punctuated by the whine of high-velocity jet thrust. The Javelin slowed to a crawl, but hovered in the air with the aid of four small jet thrusters on the plane's underside. Gently, Hal lowered the craft towards the beach. With a tiny thump, the Javelin set down on the sands.

   The team of six looked at one another and took a collective deep breath.
   "Okay," Clark said calmly. "Are we ready?"
   Bart nodded. "Yeah."
   Zatanna grinned. "I'm always ready."
   Bruce and Hippolyta nodded silently.
   "Okay, then," Clark said. "Hal, you should stay in the Javelin in case we need to fly out of here fast."
   "Sure thing. I'll keep 'er warm."

   Before the group disembarked, Hal pulled something out of a cargo cabinet.
   "Hey, Bruce, you might need this."
   Bruce looked at Hal's outstretched hand. In it sat a handgun.
   Bruce seemed to scowl at it slightly. "No thanks," he said coldly.
   "You need not fear harming any man or woman," Hippolyta reassured him. "Circe has little use for human servants."
   "Still not my style," Bruce said stiffly.
   Hal shrugged. "Fine." He turned to Hippolyta. "What about you?"
   Hippolyta's eyes narrowed to a piercing stare—an Amazon warrior's gaze. "I am more than prepared."
   She let her flowing outer robe slip to the floor, revealing an arsenal of weapons strapped to her body. One sword was slung across each hip, a dagger was strapped to each calf, and a circular shield hung on her back. And yet, beneath the leather straps and metal blades lay a simple robe of gentle silken white.
   "You planning on fighting an army?" Zatanna asked sarcastically.
   "I sincerely hope not," Hippolyta responded calmly.
   Hal hit the switch for the boarding ramp. As it slowly lowered into place, Clark nodded at Bart. The two of them vanished in twin blurs as they zoomed out of the Javelin and onto the beach. Zatanna, Bruce, and Hippolyta ran after them.
   The group stopped along the beach. There seemed to be no immediate danger, nor any activity of any kind. The entire island was eerily quiet. Only the gently waves and the winds broke the silence.  Hippolyta glanced down and gasped. A stone statue lay in the sands at their feet, as though it had merely fallen over and not been picked up. But Hippolyta knew better.
   "This woman is one of my Amazons. Circe has turned her to stone."
   The others were taken aback. "Turned to stone?" Bart asked incredulously.
   "Yes," Hippolyta responded. "The transformation of humans is one of Circe's twisted joys."
   Clark focused his superhumanly-sharp eyes toward the small city a half-mile away. "It looks like everyone in town is turned to stone, too."
   "Are we in danger of becoming like them?" Bruce asked.
   "I doubt that," Hippolyta replied.
   "Yeah," Zatanna added. "This was probably done by a widespread spell designed to transform all the then-present Amazons on the island. Things like that are hard to pull off, even for someone like Circe. I doubt she's got enough power to do that again."
   "Hang on," Bart said. "This is the beach, right? Where you... uh... made Diana?"
   "Yes," Hippolyta said, a wisp of tender emotion in her voice. "This is where the gods gave me my daughter."
   "So shouldn't Circe be here?" Bruce asked.
   Clark looked toward the mountain with the glowing temple. "What is that?"
   "The Temple of the Gods," Hippolyta responded. "...Of course. Circe needs to gather more mystical power to herself in order to access Diana's spell. The temple is a strong source of power."
   Bart's feet twitched slightly, the way they often did when he was about to run. "Then let's go!"
   "No! Wait!" Hippolyta yelled. But Bart was already forty feet away.
   A rumble shook the earth beneath their feet, and Bart stumbled to the ground.
   "What was that?" Bruce asked alarmedly.
   "A spell by Circe. She is known for leaving traps in her wake."
   The sands near Bart began to shift and rise into small mounds. Bart hurriedly jumped up and zipped back towards the others. The sands rose higher and then parted as shapes beneath them began to slip from their former homes in the ground. In the darkness, Bart, Bruce, and Zatanna could barely see what had risen from the earth. All they saw were moving shadows; unknown beings in the night. Clark and Hippolyta, however, with their Kryptonian and Amazon eyes, could see these new creatures perfectly: they were corpses.
   Zatanna yelled toward the beach at her right.
   "Etareneg erif!"
   A large round fire spontaneously burst into existence, apparently burning from nothing. It lit the entire beach, casting a bright light upon the oncoming dead warriors.
   The bones of Amazon dead, still clutching their weapons, slowly shuffled through the sands toward the foreign invaders. There were eleven of them at first. Then five more rose up, then another ten. More and more undead soldiers awoke, until four dozen stood.
   One last rumble shot through the ground. The earth seemed to groan as a mountain of sand grew up into a sixty-foot-tall mass. Slowly, it shifted and compacted. Sand, clay, and soil fused together into stone—into the shape of a sixty-foot-tall golem. The golem's head formed, and it turned down to gaze upon its opponents.
   Clark met the golem's gaze and clenched his fists.