Temporal Event

Six beings floated through a rift in time and space.  Four of them young heroes from an era far ahead of our own, two of them ageless wanderers of the cosmos.

   Through a window in space itself, they watched the young students: Clark; Bruce; Bart; Diana; Lois.

   "It looks like everything is falling into place," the leader of the young ones said. "Kal-El has found his destiny with Lois Lane, and the others are on their way to becoming the heroes we all know."

   "So it would seem," said an elder man in a metal chair.

   Another of the younger ones, a girl, raised an eyebrow. "Why do you sound skeptical?"

   "There is still danger to them all, Imra," said the other elder, a shadowed man wearing a blue cloak and a golden amulet. "Danger they, and we, cannot know for now."

   "Why not?" an impulsive boy asked. "Why can't we just use this window thing to look a little bit farther into their future?"

   "That's not how the portal works, Garth," another boy responded. "The temporal mechanics of slipspace are—"

   "Okay! Okay," Garth interrupted. "Sorry I asked, Five."

   "Do not lose faith," the cloaked man said gently. "There may yet still be a way."

   "He is correct," the seated man stated coldly. "Our findings have indicated that Bart Allen and Diana of Themyscira are the two most significant causality anchors in this time, and that their determinant event is very near."

   Garth rolled his eyes. "Aaaaand that means wha—"

   "It means that what happens to them affects everyone, as well as the entire timeline," the boy named Five responded. "And something very important—some kind of major event—is going to happen soon, that'll determine the fate of everything."

   "A great battle, I sense," the shadowed man added.

   "Alright," the young leader said, "so what can we do?"

   "Wait a minute," Imra said with sudden realization. "I think I have an idea. If we can twist this portal over that event—even just a little—I think I can sense their minds. Maybe I can find out what happens."

   "That's possible," Five said. His eyes began to glow with a bright yellow light, and a thousand calculations sprinted through organic circuits in his mind. "Use these coordinates: 327.4678, by 5.8769. Be sure to account for variance at .728 along the 18th axiom."

   The man in the metal chair placed his hand over a glowing console built into his chair's arm. "It is done."

   The portal window twisted and shifted. The view of Metropolis faded, replaced by liquid shadows.

   "There," the chaired man said. "This is the most stable I can make the portal."

   "Then it'll have to do," Imra said determinedly. She shut her eyes, and focused as hard as she could. "It's working. I'm looking for them... I—" Imra's eyes shot open. "No..."

   "What is it?" the leader asked.

   "They're... gone," Imra said, shocked. "I searched the entire globe. Their brains aren't active."

   "So they're asleep?" Garth asked.

   "No, Garth..." Imra replied. "Even if they were asleep, I could find them."

   The leader felt a shock go through his mind as he suddenly understood. "You don't mean..."

   "They're dead."

   The group fell silent for a few moments.

   "There is one other option," the chaired man said. "All beings follow their own event path; a mortal's past and future are inexorably linked. If we examine the pasts of these two, we may in turn learn how to save their future."

   "Then let's do it," the leader said. "Maybe we can find a way to help them win that battle."

   "No," the chaired man said. "We cannot interfere in that conflict."

   "What?!" Garth said frustratedly. "How are we gonna help them out if we can't help them out?!"

   "Patience, Garth of Winath," the cloaked man gently spoke. "There is still hope yet."

   "But," the leader said, "what you're basically saying is that it's up to them for right now."

   "Yes."

Winter Formal

Clark stopped before walking under the "WINTER FORMAL" banner that hung over the door to the school gym.
   "Are you actually nervous, Smallville?"
   Clark turned to see Diana standing at his side, an amused smirk across her face.  He opened his mouth to respond, but completely halted when he actually got a good look at her.
   Diana's bright blue dress was no different than what half the girls at the dance were wearing: traditional, simple, and elegant.  The difference was that, for the first time, Diana was actually wearing something—other than jeans—that hugged her figure.  She vaguely resembled something between a princess and a supermodel. The way her shimmery dress highlighted her curves made Clark feel embarrassed just for having eyes.
   Diana rather enjoyed Clark's stunned reaction.
   "You—you look nice," Clark finally stammered out.
   Diana smiled and gently punched his arm. "So do you."
   Clark shrugged. "Thanks."
   After a long pause, Diana raised her eyebrows at him. "Are you gonna go in?"
   Clark took a deep breath. "...Eventually."
   "Have you never been to a dance before?"
   "No, I have, just..."
   "Not with someone you cared about this much."
   "Yeah."
   Diana nodded, and her smile faded a little.
   "You'll be fine. Don't worry."
   Clark did his best to put on a smile despite his nervousness. "Thanks."
   Diana nodded again, doing her best to put an encouraging smile back on.
   With one more deep breath, Clark stepped under the banner and walked into the gym.

   It was dark.  Aside from spinning glitters of red and white light, the entire room was in shadow—normal, for a school dance.  Music boomed. Dozens of teenagers swarmed the room: boys in their tuxes, and girls in their dresses.  Clark was surprised at how long it took him to recognize many of his classmates in formal wear.  There was Nelson Nash, somehow still managing to look lazy and smug despite his sharp-looking tux.  There was Cat Grant, wearing a dress so short that she risked public indecency.  And further back, at the center of it all, stood Lois.
   Clark felt his heart stand still for a moment when he caught sight of her. When she saw him, too, and their eyes met, his feet almost lifted off the floor.
   While Lois was definitely stunning in her red dress, her eyes were what caught Clark's attention. Ever since Lois and Bruce had broken up, and Clark had actually let himself feel attracted to Lois, he felt more and more stunned each time he saw her eyes. "The eyes are the windows of the soul," Mr. Frank had told Clark once. If that were so, then that probably explained it. Clark, more than most other people, always tried to look at who people were at heart—who they really were underneath. And it was for that very reason that—despite the fact that she didn't have Diana's figure or Zatanna's attitude—Lois was the most beautiful girl Clark had ever seen.

   Lois caught sight of Clark, and felt her heart skip a beat. She felt silly for feeling this way; for falling so hard so fast for someone that she'd only known for a few months. But there was something about him—about the two of them—that seemed just... perfect. As though they were everything that each other ever wanted or needed.
   Lois tried to mentally shake herself. It was completely ridiculous, the way she was thinking. After all, she'd seen the statistics. Less than fifteen percent of high-school relationships ever made it all the way through college and beyond. And even then, most of those relationships ended in late, painful breakups or divorce. But, still, there was that tiny one-percent that did make it. Were she and Clark that one percent? Were they made for each other?
   Lois mentally shook herself again. She'd just gone from "wow, he looks amazing in that tux" to "I wonder if we'll get married" in the span of about two seconds.
   Finally, Lois realized she had a choice: she could hold on to her rationale and stay safe, keeping Clark at arm's length, or she could give into the romance and just let herself fall.
   She chose the latter.

   "Hi, Lois."
   "Hey, Smallville."


   Bruce stood at the edge of the room, watching the dance from the safety of the shadows.
   "Hey, what are you doing here?" a voice asked him.
   Bruce turned to see Diana standing at his right.
   "I... I knew she'd be here, since it's her job to cover it for the Star. And I thought I should be here, too. I didn't think she'd have gotten another date this fast."
   "But you broke up with her."
   Bruce hung his head a little. "Even though Lois and I aren't together anymore, I wanted to... I wanted to be here for her. I owed her that much. I didn't want her to be alone."
   Realization sparked in Diana's eyes. "You still care for her, don't you?"
   "...Yeah."
   "And you broke up with her because you hoped she'd stop getting herself in trouble chasing Luthorcorp."
   "Yes."
   "Well, no offense, Bruce, but this wasn't all about you. This whole crime spree... it affects everyone."
   "I know. I should have realized that before."
   Diana and Bruce turned back to the dance floor, and saw Clark and Lois laughing together.
   "Look at them," Diana said. "They really do seem great together."
   "...Yeah." Bruce turned to Diana. "Why did you let Clark out of going with you, anyway?"
   Diana sighed. "I knew he didn't really want to go with me, and... I felt bad keeping him away from Lois. It was kind of inevitable that they'd get together anyway."
   "You don't think you had a chance with him?"
   "...Not really." Diana shrugged and gave a half-smile. "As long as Lois exists, there's no chance for me and Clark. Simple as that."
   Bruce nodded in understanding. "Sorry. I know how that is."
   Diana put her hand on his shoulder. "Well, hey, don't worry. I'm sure you can find a new girlfriend somewhere around here." She nodded towards the corner of the room, where a group of four girls in low-cut dresses all giggled and flirtatiously waved at Bruce.
   Bruce took one look at them, then turned back to Diana. He stayed silent in thought for a few seconds, thinking it all over.  "...Yeah, I think I'll be okay," he said with a slight smirk.
   Diana laughed. She turned back towards the floor, only to see Bart standing in front of her with a stupid grin on his face. His tux was a little disheveled; Diana guess he'd been using his super-speed.
   "So!" he said excitedly, "You wanna dance?"
   Diana began to shake her head, but couldn't help laughing at Bart's insane goofiness.  Here he was, a curly-haired boy a year younger and four inches shorter than her—and he wanted to dance.  She nodded her head, and Bart pulled her by the hand toward the dance floor.

   Bruce left early, not wanting his presence to cause any problems. Diana, Bart, Clark, and Lois spent the night laughing and dancing together. Despite the drama that had led to their being here, tonight they were nothing but the best of friends.  Whether as allies in a war against crime, as brothers and sisters, or as boyfriend and girlfriend, they were never closer to one another than they were here and now.
   And, at the center of it all, Lois and Clark held one another.

Sisters

Lois ever-so-slowly applied her makeup in the mirror.

   Lucy sat on a stool at her side, barely containing her glee.

   Lois heard a rapidly repeating creaking noise, and shot an irritated look at her sister through the mirror.

   "Lucy, if you don't stop rocking back and forth, I'm going to break that stool in half over your head."

   Lucy immediately stopped moving. "Sorry... it's just exciting!"

   "Why are you excited?" Lois asked.

   "Because!" Lucy replied, her eyes full of wonder. "You're going to a DANCE! With a BOY!"

   "So? I've gone to a couple dances before."

   "Yeah, but I was TWELVE then. I'm THIRTEEN now. Now I actually care."

   Lucy sighed longingly. "I can't wait til I get to go to a dance with a boy."

   "Long as you give me his name and address so I can stab him later, go for it."

   "Lois! YOU WILL NOT!"

   "Sorry, Lu. Totally stabbing him."

   Lucy rolled her eyes and half-smiled at her sister.

   "So... is Clark your new boyfriend?"

   Lois's face blushed with equal parts surprise and frustration. She hadn't even mentioned Clark's name to Lucy.

   "Lu, have you been looking at my phone again?!?"

   "No! Honest!"

   "Then how did you know Clark's name?"

   "He... he came by the Saturday before last. When you went out for your walk, and you were gone for hours and hours..."

   "He came here?"

   "Uh-huh. He was looking for you."

   Lucy got a sheepish grin on her face. "I think he really likes you."

   Lois pushed back another blush with mock-confidence. "I'll bet he does."

   Lucy gave Lois the "oh, please," look.  "Come on, Lois. You're not THAT pretty."

   Lois spun around and whacked Lucy over the head with a hairbrush.

   "OW!" Lucy yelled.

   "Girls, keep it down in there!" their father yelled from down the hall.

   "YES, SIR!" both girls immediately replied.

   Lucy quietly continued her earlier statement. "...I mean, it's not like anyone else is asking you out."

   "That's because I intimidate them with my sharp wit and evil stares," Lois said nonchalantly.

   "Why?" Lucy asked innocently.

   "Because. Most boys don't deserve attention."

   "But won't you scare off the good ones, too?"

   "If they get scared that easily, they're not worth my time."

   "So... Clark isn't scared of you, huh?"

   "...No. He isn't."

   "So he's worth it?"

   Lois smiled.

   "Yeah. He is."

Interrogation

As the bell rang, students at Excelsior quickly left their classes, slowly making their way towards the cafeteria for lunch.  But Bruce's mind was on anything but food at the moment.  While the hundreds of other students went about their business as normal, worrying about nothing more than finals and prom dates, Bruce alone understood the true danger the city was in.

  Bruce lifted his eyes to the hallway in front of him, and saw another student exiting class a few doors down.  Bruce had a sudden realization: he was not the only person in the school who knew what was happening.  He hunched his shoulders slightly forward—imperceptibly to anyone not paying attention to him—and took slow, deliberate steps down the hall.  He weaved through the crowd like a predator stalking a kill.  He timed his steps so that when he reached his target, none of the other students were facing his direction.

   He grabbed the other student by the arm, twisting him around and literally throwing him into a nearby science lab, now empty during the lunch hour.   The other student, too surprised to react in time, hit a counter and slipped to the floor.

   Bruce shut the door behind them, and the other boy felt fear crawl up his spine.  The look in Bruce's eyes—it wasn't hatred, or insanity, but a determined wrath.  Lex Luthor cowered slightly, crawling back a couple of feet.  Bruce saw Lex's face and knew something was wrong with him—more wrong than usual.  Lex's usual mocking grin—the one he often used to hide his fear of inadequacy—was gone.  His bald head was covered in sweat, and his eyes seemed weary.  Something was definitely weighing heavily on him.

   Bruce lifted Lex up by the collar and shoved him into the counter.

   "You know what your father's doing, don't you?" Bruce said. His voice was quiet, yet rumbled with a forceful, almost snarling undertone.

   Lex tried to play it cool. "Y-you tell me."

   Bruce unconsciously let a short growl rumble from his throat, and Lex responded.

   "What do you want me to do?!?"

   Bruce leaned back, and his anger faded.  Lex's voice wasn't angry, or defiant; it was desperate.

   "I don't have a ch-choice!" Lex said, his voice slightly trembling. "He's my father!"

   "He's destroying the city," Bruce said firmly. "Is that what you want? Do you want Metropolis to become another Gotham?"

   "Of... of course not. But my—"

   "You can stop him!"

   Lex stood in silence for a moment, as if stunned by Bruce's statement.

   "...No, I can't—"

   "YES, you can.  No one's closer to him than you are. You can gather evidence, give it to the police; anything."

   "...No. I'll stand with my father. He's a thousand times the man you or anyone else in this city will ever be."

   Lex gathered himself and walked to the door.

   Bruce's anger boiled.  "You're a stupid kid, and your inane loyalty to a madman is destroying lives!"

   Lex spun around and shot Bruce a look of anger through tear-filled eyes.

   "You don't know a thing about me, Wayne."

Secrets

   Bruce frowned as he scanned the local news reports on his computer.  Despite all the chaos across the city, a strange pattern was beginning to emerge.
   He dialed his phone.
   "Hey there," a voice on the other side answered.
   "...Bart. I need you for something. Can you get over here?"
   "Sure. Gimme a second."
   Thirty seconds later, the elevator door opened and Bart stepped out.
   "Man, that elevator is SLOW."
   Bart was suddenly surprised to see Alfred standing on his left, patiently holding a tray of donuts.  If there was anything faster than Bart's feet, it was Alfred's preparedness.  Bart smiled, politely nodded, took a donut, and walked over to Bruce in the living room.
   "So, what's up?"
   "I have a theory about what's been going on with the rise in crime lately."
   "Another one? I thought we decided it was Luthor's thugs goin' crazy."
   "Maybe not."
   "...Okay, so what is it, then?"
   "I'm not sure. But I've been looking through the patterns here, and they're a little too regular.  During every period of three days, the number of major thefts stays between five and six.  Every four days, there's between three and four fires.  Murders are a little more random—probably because it's harder for whoever's controlling this to manage collateral damage—but still close enough that it's almost a pattern."
   "Wait. You said someone's controlling this?"
   "Someone has to be.  Otherwise there'd be a lot more randomness here.  This looks like someone is trying to seem random."
   Bart thought about that for a moment. "So... what does that mean?"
   "It could mean that one of the top-level bosses under Lionel's command has secretly taken control of the entire operation now that Lionel's falling out of favor, but he still wants to make it appear as though there's still no leader."
   "...And why would he do that?"
   "So that Lionel's assassins won't take him out."
   Bart squinted his eyes. "Are you sure you're not overthinking this?"
   Bruce relaxed his shoulders. "I'm not sure.  I might be.  That's why I want to find out what's really going on."
   "Cool. And how're you gonna do that?"
   "That's what I need you for."
   "...How so?"
   Bruce grinned. "It's pretty simple, really."

   Luthorcorp Tower stood like a gleaming pillar of silver dominance.  From where Bart and Bruce were standing—about a block down the street—it looked like a golem, ready to crush trespassers.
   Bart regarded it with unease.  Bruce regarded it with slight amusement, as though he found Lionel Luthor's need to build such a huge headquarters rather funny.
   "We're going in there?" Bart asked incredulously.
   "Nope," Bruce replied.  "We're going in there."
   Bruce pointed to the tower's parking garage.
   Bart nodded as if he understood, but truthfully still wasn't sure what was happening. "Okay... so what's the plan?"
   Bruce subtly tilted his head toward an alleyway to their right and walked in that direction.  Bart followed.  When they were both safely in the alley and out of view of the street, Bruce laid out his plan.

   Bart zoomed down the street towards the parking garage.  Moving at that speed, he appeared to onlookers as nothing more than a flittering shadow.  He jumped the gate at the garage, then ran all the way to the nearest door into the tower.  Looking up, he saw a security camera.  He was essentially invisible to the camera, of course.  But that wasn't the problem.
   Bart had realized something recently: when he moved at super-speed, friction and physical impact didn't affect him the same way.  He could slam face-first into a wall at eight hundred miles an hour and be hurt no worse than if he'd simply stubbed his toe.
   He jumped up, still moving too fast to be seen.  He punched the camera, shattering it into a hundred pieces.  Satisfied with his work, Bart turned around and sped back out of the parking lot.  Two seconds later he returned, carrying Bruce over his shoulder.  Bart slowed out of super-speed crouched behind a car thirty feet away from the door.  Bruce, sitting on the concrete floor, shook off the shock by taking deep breaths.  Bart was just glad that Bruce wasn't throwing up.
   Twenty seconds later, the door opened and an overweight man in a security guard's uniform walked out.  Before the door could slam shut behind him, Bart sped inside—Bruce once again slung over his shoulder.
   On the other side of the door was a long hallway lined with nondescript blue doors.  Without slowing down, Bart quickly moved forward.
   Although he didn't make any effort to show it, Bart was actually smarter than he seemed. He knew quite a bit about how the human body moved; the science of walking and running.  He figured that for the security guard to have gotten to the door in about twenty-two seconds—considering his girth and height—he must have started walking from... there.  A door marked with a "SECURITY ONLY" sticker.
   Bart put his pointer finger to the door lock and pushed.  The circular lock slid inwards slightly and cracked.  Bart winced; he'd almost jammed his finger doing that.  Apparently security door locks were tougher than cheap cameras.  Still, it had worked.  Bart turned the handle and opened the door, swiftly moving inside and shutting the door behind them.
   The room was filled with two dozen security camera screens above a computer desk.  Bart set Bruce down in an empty office chair in front of the desk.  When Bart took his hand off Bruce and shifted out of super-speed, Bruce almost immediately snapped open his eyes and began typing at the computer.
   Bart was beginning to worry that Bruce might be a robot.
   Bruce typed as fast as he could, but stopped when he saw the security guard returning on one of the camera feeds from the hallway behind them.
   Bruce immediately stood up and pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket, handing it to Bart.
   "Here. Input these commands as fast as the computer will respond."
   Bart nodded in a tenth of a second, then zipped straight into the chair and began typing away.
   The mouse and keyboard were a blur of clicks and taps.  Several screens on the wall filled with static, and a small red light gently flashed on one of them.  On the other side of the hall, the guard's heavy footsteps could be heard tapping the faux-marble floor.  They inched closer and closer, until the sound reverberated off the door itself.
   Bruce looked back at the hallway camera.  He saw the guard's hand reaching for the handle.
   Suddenly, a sharp crackle sounded from the guard's radio.
   "...Silent alarm at the Northeast door; repeat, silent alarm at the Northeast doorway..."
   The guard lowered his hand from the door handle and ran off down the hall towards the other side of the building.
   Bart breathed a sigh of relief.  He looked at Bruce for reciprocation, but Bruce retained his unearthly calm manner.
   Bart rolled his eyes.  "What did you—er... I—just do?"
   "Remotely disabled a few cameras and tripped a silent alarm. Sent them on a wild goose chase."
   Bart rolled his eyes again, standing up to give Bruce back his seat.  "How do you know how to do that, anyway?"
   Bruce sat down and began working again.  "I spent a lot of time last semester learning security systems from the IT guys at Wayne Tower.  Since we have a rival system to Luthorcorp's, it's important that we know their system inside and out, so ours can be better."
   "Huh. Cool."

   After a few minutes, Bruce finally found what he was looking for.  With a few more keystrokes, he combined the myriad of side-by-side security monitors into one giant display—showing one massive image of Lionel Luthor's office.  Bruce inserted a flashdrive into the computer, and clicked through a few folders.
   "What are you doing?"
   "Copying all of the footage from Lionel's office over the last three weeks."
   "Does it have sound?"
   "Yes. Why?"
   "Can you turn it on right now?"
   "Yes... why?"
   Bruce looked up to the giant screen and saw what Bart was referring to.  About a dozen well-dressed men had all just walked into Lionel's office.  "They must be Lionel's twelve crime lords..." Bruce said with surprise.  He clicked on the audio, and Lionel's voice filled the room.
   "...want you all to keep following the plan. I understand this is unusual, but it is of the utmost importance."
   "Mister Luthor..." one of the other men began. "Some of my men are... uneasy with all of this.  I mean, this is Gotham-level insanity we're causin' here.  No one wants to just go torch warehouses an' off people for no reason. What's the point?"
   The other eleven bosses uncomfortably shifted in their places. A few of them shot him looks of bewilderment.  Clearly, no one was supposed to question Lionel's judgment. Ever.
   Lionel met the man's gaze for a few silent moments, then cracked a satisfied grin.  "Very prudent of you, William," Lionel said.
   "Just Bill, sir," William said.
   "Nonsense," Lionel responded. "William is a far more... authoritative name.  You are quite justified in your concerns, and I appreciate your honesty.  After all, a king cannot rule without first addressing the needs of the commoners."
   The other bosses all tossed each other silent awkward glances. Lionel's royal arrogance, although perhaps justified considering his position, was still very off-putting for most.
   "We are creating chaos," Lionel said, "in order to show those in supposed positions of power that our control of Metropolis' underworld is, in fact, the lesser of two evils.  That if they wish to unravel our identities as leaders of the criminal element, and take us into custody, they should beware of the consequences.  They should see a criminal world without us. They should see the true chaos that they will unleash."
   The bosses nodded in understanding.
   "Is that sufficient for you, William?"
   William nodded. "Yes, Mister Luthor."
   "Good."
   Lionel's face turned terribly grave. "I trust your curiosity does not extend into disloyalty?"
   William began to stutter in fear. "N-no, sir. Absolutely not."
   "See that it doesn't."

   Bruce switched off the video, and sunk his face into his hands.
   "He's the one doing it," Bruce said. "He's still in control. He just wants the police to think he's not, so they'll be scared into not arresting him."
   "Woah..." Bart said incredulously.  "He's burning the city and having people killed just to prove a point?"
   "Yes. That's exactly what he's doing."
   Bruce switched the normal camera screens back on, and checked the hallway.  The guard was about fifty feet away, and walking closer.
   "Looks like our ruse is over."
   Bruce shut down the file transfer and yanked his flashdrive before inputting a single command that completely reset the entire system back the way it was before they'd arrived.
   He stood up. "Alright; let's get out of here."
   Bart firmly grabbed Bruce's arm. A tenth of a second later, they were gone.