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.