Sunrise

   The bright morning Kansas sun shone in through the windows of the Kent home. Diana stood in the kitchen, letting the rays soak into her skin. It felt warm; comforting. Something about this place felt... right. And yet Diana had never been more confused in her life.
   "Coffee warm enough for you?" a warm voice said at her side.
   Diana glanced at the cup in her hand, then gave a polite smile. "Oh, yes, Mrs. Kent. Thank you."
   Martha smiled back at Diana, but her sharp eyes detected the sixteen-year-old's distress.
   "Something on your mind?"
   Diana quietly stared into her coffee. "...I don't know."
   Martha leaned in to peer into Diana's eyes. "You know, if you need someone to talk to, I'm here. I promise not to tell anyone."
   Diana felt a bit touched by Martha's kindness.
   "I guess I just don't know what I'm doing here. I mean, you've been amazing, and I'm really grateful that you guys took me in and everything. But this isn't my life. Not the one I was supposed to have."
   "What life were you supposed to have?"
   Martha and Jonathan had been told everything already, but Martha knew that Diana needed to talk it out.
   "I was... I was training to be the Amazons' Ambassador of Truth to the world of man."
   "The world of man?"
   "Yes. 'Patriarch's World,' as my mother sometimes called it. I was primarily supposed to be the ambassador to America, since it's the closest thing the world has to a leading nation."
   "The world isn't just controlled by men, you know."
   Diana sighed. "Yeah, but from the perspective of a thousand women who've lived for a thousand years alone on an island with no men, everything is masculine by comparison. My job was supposed to be to 'teach' the world the proper way to live, according to the gods' decree."
   Martha wrinkled her nose slightly at that. Diana didn't notice.
   "...And then I... died. I think. It felt like dying. Like the life left me, or like I was leaving my body, or... I don't know."
   Diana was having trouble finding the words. Martha took Diana's hand and squeezed it comfortingly.
   "When I woke up, that 'Phantom Stranger' told me that the gods had put me together wrong, and Clark said that they were unwilling to... to fix me. They abandoned me."
   The coffee in Diana's cup trembled slightly.
   "I was supposed to be their ambassador, and they left me dead."
   "Sounds like they're not really the gods you thought they were."
   A year ago, Diana might have slapped Martha for speaking such blasphemy. But now, she was surprised at how she didn't react in the slightest. She had to admit that she'd been thinking similar thoughts herself.
   "The Phantom Stranger said he served 'a higher power.' I wish I knew what he meant by that."
   Martha smirked. "Well, you're welcome to come to church with us anytime you like."
   Welcome. At the sound of that word, a deep sadness washed across Diana's eyes.
   "What's wrong?" Martha asked.
   "Amazons aren't allowed to just leave Themyscira without permission," Diana explained. "Anyone who leaves is barred from returning; it's a law my mother laid down. And now I'm banished from the island... I don't even know if I'm technically an Amazon anymore."
   "Regardless of that, you're still a person."
   Diana appreciated the sentiment, but it didn't mean much.
   "It's more than just what race I belong to. I was supposed to BE someone. I had an identity; a purpose. I knew who I was and what I was meant for. Now I don't know who I am at all."
   "Who do you want to be?"
   "...I... I don't know." Diana smiled slightly as a small memory flashed in her mind. "When I was a little girl, I always wanted to be a hero; the Amazons' fabled champion. My mother was that champion in her day, when she led my sisters out of slavery. I think I always grew up trying to hold my head up high and act like that hero; to live up to my mother's title, so I might one day get that title."
   "You're already a princess; what higher title is there?"
   "It's hard to translate into English, but I think, most accurately, it would be 'Wonder Woman.'"
   "That sounds like a lot of importance for a young girl to try and keep on her shoulders."
   "...It was, but I thought I was doing it well, at least. And now, I just... gods, what am I talking about? That doesn't even matter anymore. I can't be their champion; I can't even go home."

   Clark energetically bounded down the stairs. "Morning!" he said cheerfully, kissing Martha on the cheek.
   Diana couldn't help but crack a smile. Something about the Kents' genuine positivity was infectious.
   Clark snatched half a piece of toast and stuffed it in his mouth, gestured toward Diana. "You ready for your firsht day of shcool?"
   Diana sighed and nodded. It was the morning of her first day of class at Smallville High, and she was mildly nervous.
   Clark swallowed his toast and glanced at his watch. "The bus is about to get here. We should go."
   Diana and Clark grabbed their backpacks and walked to the door, but Martha gently grabbed Diana's arm before she could leave.
   "I just want you to know," Martha said quietly, "no matter what, this is your home now."
   Diana was surprised. She'd spent the last month doing nothing but feeling the pain of what she'd lost; she hadn't even stopped to consider what she'd gained. As Martha's words sunk in, Diana felt herself slowly fill with a gentle warmth.
   Home.

The Pact

   My mother greeted me with a smile when I came home.
   "How did it go today?" she asked. I handed her the folder with my grade report papers inside. She flipped through the pages, giving an approving "uh-huh" at each perfect A. Until, that is, she found the one B-minus. Religious studies was never my subject. I only took it because my father made me. "You need to understand the crazies out there if you're gonna sell to 'em," he said.
   My mother gave me another smile, this one sympathetic. She knew what was coming next. My father did not tolerate anything less than perfection from his son. It wasn't so much that he wanted me to be perfect—he sure as hell wasn't—but he perceived any and all failure as a lack of perseverance and hard work.
   It was perseverance and hard work that drove my father to build his own business from the ground up and eventually turn it into Galaxy Communications, the biggest media corporation in the United States. "You never get anything for nothing," he always said.
   When my father got home, my mother hugged him and asked how his day went. I knew she was trying to soothe and distract him. I appreciated it. But as soon as he saw me, his eyes darted to the folder still in my mother's hand. He took it and flipped through the pages as she had before.
   "Good... good... excellent..." Then he stopped. He turned the page around to show me. "Care to explain this, Morgan?"
   The red-inked "B-" stood out like a wound.
   "...Religion's not my best subject," I said quietly.
   He gave me a displeased smirk. "Really."
   He grabbed my arm and clamped down hard enough that I thought he might leave a bruise. I briefly thought of trying to twist out of his grasp, but immediately thought better.
   I was practically dragged into the study—or, as I liked to think of it, my father's trophy room, filled with all his company's awards for excellence.
   He screamed at me. Asked me why I wanted so badly to ruin his reputation at that school, when so many other billionaires' sons were holding perfect grade records. "They don't have perfect grades!" I yelled back. It was true. A few of my peers were exceptional, yes, but most were spoiled heirs and heiresses. Talking back was a mistake. I told everyone at school that I got the bruise on my cheek from falling down a staircase.

   That Saturday, my parents and I were out downtown in Metropolis. Standing on the sidewalk, I glanced down the street, saw a hot dog vendor, and realized I was hungry. I pulled out my wallet only to see that all my cash and credit cards were missing. Any normal person probably would have suspected theft, but I knew my father was responsible.
   I turned to him and saw his slightly smug face staring at me. "You'll get your money back when you prove you're responsible," he said.
   I was practically livid. I knew it was unfair. And what excuse was I supposed to give my friends at Excelsior? They all had thousands of dollars in free spending money from their parents. It was beyond humiliating.
   I knew if we'd been home at the time, I'd have nothing to do but shut up and go to my room before I said something that got me in trouble. But we were out in the open here; surely my father wouldn't do anything in public. And by the time we got home, he might have calmed down.
   I argued. He argued back. Any louder and we would have been having a shouting match in the middle of the sidewalk. As if to compensate for not yelling louder, we leaned in closer to one another. My mother, ever the concerned and compassionate one, moved close and tried to get my father to stop.
  "Vincent, please, not here," she whispered.
  "SARAH, STAY OUT OF IT," he said, pushing her back.
  I'd never seen my father be forceful with my mother before, but this once was all it took. She fell backwards into the street just as a twelve-ton bus drove by.

   Morgan Edge stepped onto the roof of his family's tower at midnight. Pounding rain soaked his clothes, and he began shivering from the cold, wet wind. Echoes of thunder boomed off the walls of every skyscraper in Metropolis, and lightning struck nearby at random.
   Sarah Edge was dead. The bus driver saw nothing, and neither did anyone else. Vincent told the police that it was an accident; that Sarah had tripped. Morgan said otherwise, of course, but Vincent convinced the investigators that Morgan was in shock and didn't know what he was talking about.

   Morgan fell to his knees on the roof and wept.
   My mother is dead, he thought. Justice doesn't exist. This entire world deserves to burn in hell.
   Grief began to solidify into anger. Morgan lifted his head to the skies and screamed.
   "I HATE MY FATHER!!!"

   A huge bolt of lightning slammed into the roof in front of Morgan. Morgan jumped back, startled and temporarily blinded by the intense light. As his vision faded back, he saw a figure standing in front of him. Nearly eight feet tall, thickly built, with skin like dark stone and eyes that burned with red flame.
   "Who... who are you?!" Morgan said.
   "I am Darkseid," the figure said. His gravelly words boomed with dark power.
   "...What are you?" Morgan said, confused.
   The fire in Darkseid's eyes grew hotter. "I am a god."
   "...What do you want with me?"
   "To offer you a deal."
   "...A deal?"
   "My armies will soon arrive on this planet. They will raze its surface to ashes. I offer you the chance to join with me. Be my servant; my secret emissary. Serve me, and I will reward you."
   "...Reward me with what?"
   Darkseid smirked. "Your life. And I will grant you vengeance upon your father."
   Morgan gritted his teeth. "Deal."
   "Very good, Morgan Edge. Now you must prepare."
   "Prepare for what?"
   "For the coming of Apokolips."
 
   The image of Darkseid, ruler of Apokolips, faded into the wind, leaving Morgan Edge alone in the night once more.

APOCALYPSE IS COMING

New Posts!

The first new chapter of TJ will go up this Friday at 8PM US Central Time, with regular chapters following every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday thereafter at 7AM.

Return!

So apparently when I wrote "take a month or so off," I meant "take the entire summer off."

This time around, I really want to make sure that I have the entire story plotted out, in detail, before I finally start writing and posting it. I've made a highly detailed outline of the entire series in-depth, and I'm just finally putting the finishing touches on it. I should have actual story chapters out soon. Also, they'll be coming out more consistently. Hopefully a new one every other day or something like that.

Oh, one more thing. I'm going back to that "arcs" idea that I had before. Whenever a major story arc beings, I'll put up a mini-banner in the post so you'll know.

Season 1 - Done

So that's the entire first "season" of TJ over and done.
I apologize for taking so long with the final several chapters; I wanted to post them a lot more quickly but the problem was just that they got insanely hard to write after a certain point. When I start Season 2, things should go way faster since I already have a lot more of it planned out in advance.

I'm gonna take a month or so off (maybe less) and then get back into writing TJ. In the meantime, here's a list of quick random/important notes that I wanted to mention:

-Lois's death was something planned from the very beginning, as was Diana's death/rebirth. If you go back and read TJ from the very beginning, you can see little hints I dropped here and there.
-Perry White never intended to let Lois publish her story (for fear of her safety), but after hearing about her death later that night, ended up printing the story anyway in order to honor her.
-Bruce has actually finished all his high school classes, and won't be returning to Excelsior. He has other plans.
-Bart makes a red blur when he runs because he always wears a red hoodie, but Barry makes a similar red blur because he wears a slick, bright red jacket made of a shiny slippery material that helps him slip through the air a little faster as he runs. It's sort of like a prototype Flash costume.
-For those still confused, this is the way the universe is explained in "Destiny":
The DC comics universe is actually a "multiverse" with many alternate realities. The universe in which Teen Justice resides is not the same one from the mainstream comics, however. At one point, it was very similar (to the point of being essentially the same), but after the timeline was altered by Bart traveling back in time, everything was altered. These alterations include (but are not limited to):
  -Many members of the Justice League and other major DC characters meeting in their teenage years, whereas before they had never met until much later in life. These include Clark, Bruce, Lois, Diana, Bart, Barry, Iris, Lex, Oliver, Ray Palmer, Hal, and probably a few others that I'm forgetting. There'll be a lot more in Season 2.
  -Metropolis' location being moved from the East Coast (somewhere around Delaware) to the midwest (in either Kansas or Missouri).
  -Strykers' Island prison moved from Metropolis to Coast City, California.
  -Diana's body being made of sand held together by magic. In the comics, Diana was still sculpted from sand and given life in the same manner, but had a "normal" Amazonian body not held together purely by magic. Diana in TJ now has the same type of non-sand physiology.

Now then. Season 2 teasers. :D
In Season 2...
  -There will be pirates.
  -There will be ghosts.
  -There will be ninjas.
  -Deadshot's death will be investigated and explained.
  -Clark's math teacher comes back. (no, really, it's cool. trust me.)
  -Oliver will get his own story arc.
  -Bruce will have at least two more potential love interests
  -Another school dance.
  -Kryptonite.

Do me a favor. Post any and all thoughts, questions, or whatever else you feel like saying about the entire first season of TJ in the comments. :D

Broken

A small crowd dressed in black stood together in the falling snow.
   Lois Lane's coffin slid slowly into the ground.

   All manner of acquaintances were gathered in mourning. Family: Sam, Ella and Lucy Lane. Chloe Sullivan and her father, Gabe. Friends: Bruce, Alfred, Clark, Diana, Hal, Ray Palmer, and Lucius Fox. Others who came merely out of respect: Dan Turpin, Perry White, and Barry Allen.
   Sam Lane stood stiffly in his Army uniform, doing his best to hold his composure but failing miserably. Ella sank into his side, weeping. Lucy leaned on his other side, her face covered in tears of her own.
   Chloe felt cold. Alone. She wished that someone would hold her; comfort her. She looked to Clark, but he was too distracted with grief of his own.
   Clark's mind was a hurricane of emotion. For the short time they'd been together—and somewhat even before that—he'd loved Lois. He'd known, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he and Lois were destined to be together. As Clark looked down at the black coffin, his heart screamed at him that this was wrong. That with the death of one girl, every good thing in the world had shattered.
   A few people said a few words in remembrance. Clark didn't hear them.
   The ceremony ended and the crowd began to disperse.

   Perry White nervously approached Sam Lane. "Sir, my name's Perry White. EIC of The Daily Planet. I... I feel I owe you an apology. If I hadn't let your daughter—"
   Sam waved his hand dismissively. "No, it's no one's fault. No one except Lionel Luthor's. Lois made her own choices.
   "The same goes for you, Turpin," Sam said, turning to Dan Turpin, who was in the middle of walking over with the same guilty look that Perry wore.
   "Well, ah," Dan said nervously, "if it's any consolation, what your daughter did has already helped out the whole city. We're trackin' down all o' Lionel's thugs, and the ones we can't catch are off runnin'. Crime's down eighty percent. Things are better than they've been in years, maybe ever. You should be proud."
   Sam smiled and nodded. "I am."

   Ella and Lucy approached Clark.
   Ella gave Clark a weak smile. "Hi."
   Clark did his best to smile back, but failed.
   "I wanted you to know," Ella said, "the few weeks you and Lois were together... were the happiest I've seen her since she was a little girl. Thank you."
   Clark didn't know how to respond.
   Lucy slowly took a step closer to him, and looked up with big, tear-filled eyes. She tackled his stomach, squeezing him tightly. Clark lightly hugged her back.
   Lucy lifted her head again. "Will you come visit sometime?"
   Clark looked at Ella. She gave an approving nod and a smile.
   Clark nodded at Lucy. "Sure."
   Lucy brightened up a little, and rejoined her mother.

   After everyone else had left, only Clark, Diana, Bruce, Hal, and Barry remained.
   They stood together in silence.
   "So... what now?" Hal asked.
   "Something's wrong," Barry said. "I can feel it in my gut. Like part of the universe just got ripped out. Lois wasn't supposed to die. I mean, we all saw the future. We saw what—"
   "We saw something," Bruce interrupted. "It might never have been our future, and it sure as hell isn't our future now."
   "Clark, what do you think?" Barry asked.
   After a moment, Clark responded. "Whatever our destinies were before, they're gone." He paused for another moment to gather his thoughts. "Before, I used to feel this pull towards Metropolis. Like it was where I was meant to be. Like fighting crime and saving people was something I needed to do. But now that we've fought Circe, and now that..." Clark looked at the coffin again, but couldn't bring himself to say the words.
   "So that's it, then?" Hal asked. "Everything we saw... it means nothing?"
   The group's silence acted as confirmation.
   "So what do we do now?" Barry asked.
   "We go our separate ways," Bruce said. "I don't think 'the universe' needs us together anymore."
   Everyone else turned to Clark. He nodded in agreement.

   Gradually, the group dispersed.
   Hal stopped Diana before she left. Hal had noticed that she hadn't said a word since the Javelin landed home, and she looked terrible.
   "Hey, are you okay?" Hal asked.
   Diana stumbled over her words. "I... no... I just..."
   "Hey, it's okay," Hal said. "What's wrong?"
   "...I don't have a home anymore. I left my mother and my island. I don't know where to go."
   Hal hadn't even realized. "I'm sorry, I... do you have any place to go?"
   Diana shrugged, and her eyes watered.
   Hal moved forward to hug her, but she stepped back.
   "No, I just... I have to go." She turned and ran away, tears running down her face.

   Alfred, who patiently stood at the cemetery's edge, remarked at Bruce's calmness—or perhaps coldness—in regards to Lois's death. As Bruce approached him, Alfred held out Bruce's heavier jacket that he'd taken off for the ceremony. Bruce angrily shoved past, not bothering to say a word. Alfred breathed an inner sigh of sadness for the boy. He was every bit as dominated by his turmoil as ever—perhaps moreso.

   And thus it was that the youths who would have been heroes walked away from their broken destiny.

To Be Continued

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