Many Mysteries

   "What is it?" Clark asked as he entered the penthouse.
   Bruce gestured to the TV.  Bart was already sitting on the couch, waiting for Clark to arrive.
   "Reports have been coming in for the last hour, now," a newscaster reported. "It seems that the mercenary and murderer, Floyd Lawton, known by his alias 'Deadshot,' was found dead in his cell in Stryker's Island Prison. Details are uncertain at this time, but, by many accounts, Lawton was apparently stabbed, and bled to death while prison guards were away.  The person or persons responsible for this execution have not yet been identified."
   The elevator dinged.  To everyone's surprise, Diana stepped out.
   Bruce didn't waste a second.  "Where have you been?" he asked, giving her a serious frown.
   Clark immediately stood up and walked over to her.  "Are you alright?" he asked.
   Diana smiled a little at his concern.  "I'm okay."
   She turned to Bruce.  "I... needed some time."
   Bart was suddenly standing on her left.  "So, uh... what happened?" he asked awkwardly.
   "I, um..." She took a deep breath. "I got a little freaked out yesterday, and I... almost went too far.  I wasn't thinking straight.  If Clark hadn't been there, I... I don't know what I'dve done."  She turned to Clark.  "Thanks," she said with a grateful look in her eyes.  Clark shrugged, as if to say "you're welcome."
   Bruce was unmoved by their tender moment.  "You nearly killed him.  Now you're just going to pretend like that didn't happen?"
   Clark took her defense. "She didn't kill him."
   Bruce got a little more intense.  "So?  What about the next time she gets into a fight?  You people are too powerful to trust on faith!"
   Everyone paused for a moment, taking in Bruce's words.
   Clark stepped toward Bruce so that he could stare down at him.  They were only a few inches apart in height, but Clark made his point.
   "Then why don't you leave that to 'us people?'"
   Bruce couldn't really argue with that.  He held his gaze in silence for a few moments longer, but eventually shrugged and stepped back. "Fine."
   Diana felt a slight flutter of joy in her heart.  Since she'd moved here, she'd had no one who she could consider a close friend; someone that would truly stand up for her, for no other reason than they cared.  now she did, and she couldn't be more grateful.  But before she could let herself forget, there was something else she needed to mention.
   "Um, not that I'm trying to change the subject or anything, but I think we might have a bigger problem."
   "What's that?" Bruce asked, unsurprised that things had somehow gotten worse.
   "I think someone might know about me.  That I'm... well, different."
   Bruce narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"
   "Someone confronted me yesterday while I was at a park.  He was dressed in blue, with a gold amulet around his neck.  He said that 'my true gift is kindness, not violence.' Then he just disappeared."
   Bruce raised an eyebrow, then walked to one of his bookshelves.  He pulled out an older book and gently flipped to a specific page.  When he found it, he brought the book to Diana.
   "Is this the man you saw?"
   She looked at the picture on that page.  It was an artist's representation of a shadow-covered man dressed in dark blue.
   "Yes, that's him!"
   Bruce nodded slowly.  "I thought so.  This man has no name.  As far as anyone knows for sure, he's only a legend.  Sightings of people matching his description date back through the beginning of the twentieth century.  Some accounts are even further back. The self-proclaimed 'magical community'—Wiccans, mostly—believe him to be a kind of herald or guide for individuals of great importance.  Other, more realistically-minded theorists have posited that he is, in fact, multiple individuals, each one assuming the identity of this blue-robed man when his predecessor dies."
   "You've never been one to believe in urban legends, Bruce," Clark said.  "Why this one?"
   "Because I've seen this man before.  He was a close friend of John Zatara.  At that point, he was working under the alias of 'Grey Walker.'"
   The group sat in silence for a moment, thinking it all over.
   Bart, as usual, was the first to speak up. "So... what now?  Is this guy a problem?"
   "I don't know," Bruce said.  "I'll talk to Zatanna. Maybe she knows something.  In the meantime"—he turned to Diana—"you should probably keep a low profile."
   Diana gave a relieved sigh.  "That sounds great, actually."