Escalation

   "Crime in the Metropolis shipping district has gone up six hundred percent in the last seven days.  Six major fires, fourteen deaths, and twenty-three major thefts have been reported. Local Police seem to be completely baffled by this increase in violence, but Detective Dan Turpin had this to say..."
   The news report switched over to a recording of Turpin and his partner, Maggie Sawyer, as they entered police headquarters.  Dan, as always, was frustrated and annoyed.
   "Yeah, I'll tell ya what's goin' on!  It's the criminal underworld! Now that they're hearin' about us finally gettin' dirt on their 'leader,' they're freakin' out!"
   "Leader? Who's their Leader?" the reporter asked.
   Dan stared the camera in its face. "LIONEL. [BLEEP]. LUTHOR."
   Maggie quickly ran over to Dan, gently shoving him back towards the building.  "The MSCU has no official comment on this matter, or on Lionel Luthor," she calmly told the reporter.

   Bruce stood in front of the massive TV in his living room, watching the report.
   The elevator dinged, and Diana walked in with Bart.  Bart's face and clothes were smudged with black smoke-markings.  He looked exhausted.
   "Hey, buddy," Bart jokingly greeted, forcing a half-smile.  "What's up?"
   "I called you so we could talk about what's going on," Bruce said.
   "Cool," Bart said. "I could use a break."
   Bart and Diana sat down on the couch.  Bart slumped back and shut his eyes.
   "Where's Clark?" Bruce asked.
   "I don't know," Diana replied. "I thought he was—"
   The elevator door opened again, and Clark stepped through, looking almost as dirty as Bart.
   Bruce looked back and forth between the two super-powered boys.  "What the hell have you two been doing?"
   "What's it look like?" Bart asked sarcastically, his eyes still closed.
   "They've been literally running in circles for the past week," Diana said.  "I'm not as fast as they are, so I can't get to all the crimes as they're happening."  She put her hand caringly on Bart's knee.  "I think they've carried people out of—what, three fires in the past two days?"
   "Four," Bart said, lifting up four fingers.
   "Sorry I'm late," Clark said.  "I heard another siren as I was on my way over, and I went back to help."
   Clark was breathing a little harder than usual, and his eyes were drooping a bit.
   "Clark, are you... tired?" Bruce said incredulously.
   Clark shrugged.  "I haven't really slept much lately. Things keep happening at night, and I don't want to be asleep when someone needs help."
   "So do you think it's true?" Diana asked Bruce.  "What Turpin was saying about Luthor?"
   "You heard that while you were in the elevator?" Bruce asked in return.
   "Yeah."
   Bruce mentally reminded himself never to say anything he didn't want overheard near Diana.
   "I don't know.  Probably.  Lucius told me that Lois brought him evidence that Lionel's been spying on the tech at the air base."
   Clark and Diana nodded.
   Bruce's jaw clenched. "Why was I not told about this?  It's MY family's company."
   Clark and Diana looked at each other in surprise, then looked back at Bruce, somewhat embarrassed.
   "Sorry, Bruce," Clark said. "I thought you knew."
   "No," Bruce said coldly. "Why did she go behind my back like that?!"
   "Oh, gee, I dunno... because you dumped her?"
   The group looked back at Bart, who still appeared to be half-asleep.
   "Bruce, Lois still cares about you," Diana said gently. "Lionel's already tried to kill you—as well as all of us—"
   "Not me," Bart said, half-raising his hand. "I totally wasn't there."
   "All of us except Bart," Diana corrected. "It's not like Lois is gonna just drop everything she's been working for.  And it's not like you needed to know."
   "It was probably our job to tell you," Clark said. "Sorry about that."
   Bruce shook his head. "Whatever. Forget about it."
   After a short silence, Diana spoke up.
   "So what should we do now?  When is the chaos going to stop?"
   "It'll probably stop once the investigation with Luthor ends," Bruce replied.  "If Lionel's proven to be a criminal, the police can get complete access to everything he owns.  From there, they should be able to find all the evidence they need to find and take down each and every one of the people under Lionel's command."
   "Hang on," Clark said. "Explain this to me.  How exactly is his 'empire' set up?"
   "Like a pyramid," Bruce replied.  "Or, more accurately, like an actual empire.  Lionel's at the top, and there's about a dozen men that take orders from him.  Each one of those men runs a slice of the criminal world in Metropolis."
   "How do you know all this, anyway?" Diana asked.
   "It's not that hard to find out.  It's like any huge crime organization: everyone with their ear to the ground knows who's running things, but no one's got the evidence.  Until now, apparently."
   Clark sighed. "Well, until that evidence pays off, I guess we'll just have to keep on working."
   As if to punctuate Clark's statement, a loud boom hit the tower, and the floor shook.  Everyone looked out the window to see a huge swath of fire over one of the buildings along the harbor.
   "That's the Queen Industries fuel warehouse," Bruce said, taken aback at what he was seeing.
   Clark stood up, and his voice fell a little deeper.
   "Let's go."
   At his words, Diana and Bart sprung up from their seats and ran with him to the door.
   Bruce watched them go.  They didn't need an extra minute to decide what they were supposed to do; they just went out and started saving lives.  Bruce smirked as he realized that he had really cool friends.

Winter Medley

   It was almost December, and the first snowflakes were beginning to fall.  For some reason, the area around Metropolis actually got snow, despite its place in the midwest.  It had a curious effect upon the city in that it somehow made everything seem warmer.  People were kinder to one another, the traffic seemed a little calmer, and the skies of gray somehow seemed more comforting.  Jonathan Kent would say that it was the "Christmas Spirit," and that "even big city folks can't deny it."
   Diana walked aimlessly through the streets, not really sure what she was doing outside in the cold.  It seemed like everyone around her was in the holiday spirit, but she couldn't feel more isolated.
   An American flag slowly flapped above her head; its white stars and red stripes shining brilliantly in the pale sunlight.  All it did for Diana was remind her that she was not at home; that she was an alien to this land.  From what she understood, Christmas was supposed to be a time for family to gather.  All she had in the way of family here was her own mother, and there was no way that Hippolyta would ever let Diana celebrate a Christian holiday.  After all, Christianity had replaced belief in the Greco-Roman gods, therefore it was the "enemy" of the Amazons' faith.  Personally, Diana didn't care very much about whose religion was supposedly evil.  She just wanted somewhere to belong.
   "Excuse me, Miss," an elderly voice said.
   Diana turned to see a short, tiny old woman—the jewelry store owner from a week ago.
   "Oh! Ma'am, are you alright? I didn't see what happened to you after the attack." Diana asked.
   The woman nodded. "I'm alright, I'm alright.  Are you?"
   Diana smiled politely.  "Yes, ma'am, I'm fine."
   "Good," the woman said.  "Here, I have something for you..."  She reached into her purse, and pulled out a small box.  "The police didn't believe me when I said that a pretty young girl saved me from that man, but I knew you were real.  I wanted to thank you, but I didn't know where you were, so I've been carrying this for you in case I ever ran into you again.  And, by God's grace, I did.
   Diana didn't know what to say.  "...Thank you," she said, taking the box.  It was wrapped in blue and silver paper, and Diana wasn't sure if she should open it.  She knew enough about Christmas to know that you were supposed to wait until Christmas day to unwrap presents.
   "It's okay, my dear," the woman said.  "Open it."
   Diana gently peeled off the wrapper, and opened the box.  Inside were two silver-white earrings, each in the shape of a five-pointed star.  She smiled; the stars looked exactly like the ones on the American flag.
   "I thought you might like them," the woman said.
   "They're beautiful; thank you... but I can't—"
   "Now don't you be saying you can't accept them, young lady!" the woman interrupted.  "They're a gift.  Merry early Christmas."
   Diana gently took the earrings out and slipped them on.
   "You look stunning, my dear," the woman said.
   "...Thank you," Diana said, her smile beaming.
   "Oh no, miss.  Thank you.  The world needs more people like you."

—

   Bruce stood in his living room, taking in the view.
   Christmas was a time that once held special meaning for him—a time when his family never seemed closer.  Now, Christmas felt empty.  Cold.  Haunting.  Even though the actual holiday was a whole month away, the snow-covered buildingtops made it feel much closer.
   Alfred walked into the room and noticed Bruce's brooding.  He felt a swell of sympathy for the boy.  He'd thought that perhaps Lois's presence would soothe Bruce's heartache over the holidays, but they had apparently broken things off.
   "If I may, Master Bruce," Alfred said politely, "perhaps you could spend less time staring out into the cold and more time with your friends?"
   Bruce turned his head slightly to the side, indicating that he'd been listening, but didn't say a word.
   Alfred sighed to himself.  It seemed that if Bruce was ever going to slip out of his shell, he couldn't be pulled out.  He'd need to step out on his own.

—

   Clark walked down the street, this time not really minding the fact that he couldn't fly to where he was going.  He still needed the extra time to think things over and figure out what he was going to say.  He was nervous, yet somehow overjoyed.  A bit of worry crept into his mind. Was it too soon?  Was it even right?  He took a moment to drift inwardly, seeking out that truth of the matter.  "Listening to your heart," as his mom would call it.  ...Yes.  It was time.
   He approached the building, paused at the door, and took a deep breath.  He opened the door and stepped inside, then slowly walked up the three flights of stairs.  Finally, he reached the apartment door.  After another deep breath, he knocked.  The door opened, revealing a girl no older than twelve.
   Clark was a little surprised, and shifted around uncomfortably.  "Um... hi.  Is Lois home?"
   The girl raised a suspicious eyebrow at him.  "No."
   Clark suddenly noticed that this girl looked a lot like Lois.  The same blue eyes and gentle cheekbones.  If not for the fact that her hair was brown while Lois's was black, Clark could have mistaken her for a younger version of Lois.  But this must be Lucy.
   "Lucy?" he asked.
   The girl raised her other eyebrow, still unsure of Clark's genuineness.  "That's me.  Who are you?"
   "I'm Clark. Clark Kent," he said with a friendly smile.  He saw Lucy blink and slightly blush.  He'd forgot how his smiles sometimes did that to people.  "I'm a friend of your sister's.  I work with her at the school paper."
   Recognition flashed in her eyes, and a smile crept across her lips.  "Wait. You're Smallville?"
   Clark rolled his eyes.  "Yeah. That's me."
   Lucy giggled a little.  "She talks about you sometimes."
   "Really?"
   She cleverly narrowed her eyes.  "Don't get too excited... Smallville."
   Clark kept himself from rolling his eyes a second time.  "Ha ha.  Can you tell me where she is?"
   Lucy playfully narrowed her eyes again.  "Mmmm.... okay.  She went to Centennial Park. Should still be there."
   Clark gave her one more smile. "Thanks, Lucy.  I'll see you later."
   Hearing him say her name with a simultaneous smile made Lucy's face go completely pink.

   Centennial Park was just down the street.  Being one of the only parts of the city that wasn't being constantly walked or driven upon, it was slowly being blanketed in white.  It didn't take Clark long to find Lois.  She was sitting alone on a bench, rubbing her hands together and crossing her arms for warmth.  Clark walked up from behind and sat down on the bench next to her.  She was surprised to see him, but not unhappy.
   "Hey," he said. "What are you doing out here?"
   She shrugged.  "Just trying to clear my head. Fresh air and all that.  Really tired; tried to take a nap earlier, but couldn't fall asleep."
   Clark nodded.  He'd certainly had his share of moments like that.
   "Why are you out here?" Lois asked.
   Clark turned to her and made sure to choose his words carefully.
   "I was looking for you, actually."
   "Really.  Why's that?"
   "Well, I... I wanted to know if you'd go to the Christmas Formal with me?"
   Lois was very surprised. "I thought you were going with Miss Amazon Prom Queen?"
   Clark shook his head.  "No.  She told me that she didn't think we should go together."
   "...Why not?"
   "It's complicated..."
   "Okay... so... you guys aren't an item or anything?"
   "Not even close, no.  So, will you?"
   Lois felt the words fumbling on the way to her lips.  "Y-yeah... sure."
   Clark smiled, and Lois suddenly felt a little less cold.
   Clark turned back to face the park, taking in the snow-covered sights.
   Lois was slightly perplexed.  "Um... Clark?"
   "Yeah?"
   "Well... usually when a guy asks a girl out, and she says yes, the guy walks off so they don't have to have that awkward silence afterwards."
   Clark thought about that for a second.
   "...Do you want me to leave?"
   Lois hadn't actually thought about it.
   "...No," she said with an embarrassed smile.

   They sat there together for the next few hours, talking about everything and nothing.  Lois was freezing cold, and, without thinking about it, ended up creeping closer and closer to Clark for warmth as time passed.  Eventually, she somehow ended up curled up under his arm.  A few minutes later, she fell asleep.

Switch-Up

   Lois sat down in her office chair with an unusually happy bounce, spinning the chair around a couple times with glee.
   Clark and Diana looked at each other, each with a raised eyebrow.
   "What's going on?" Clark asked.
   "Oh, nothing," Lois said playfully.  "I just may have landed the greatest story OF MY CAREER—so far—AND managed to get Luthorcorp FINALLY out of Metropolis's hair."
   Diana was a little skeptical.  "...And how did you manage that, exactly?"
   "Your ex, actually.  He found some tracking devices on the planes at the Academy, and we ran some tests.  Turns out they were Luthorcorp designs, and—"
   "Wait a second," Diana interrupted.  "Hal found them?"
   "He was the first one to notice them, yeah."
   Diana frowned.  "...Are you sure he didn't plant them there?"
   "Um... what?"
   "I doubt Hal is working for Luthor," Clark said calmly. "Why would he point out evidence that could potentially get Luthorcorp in trouble?"
   "Yeah, I guess..." Diana said reluctantly.
   Lois narrowed her eyes. "What exactly did he do to gain your spite, Amazon?"
   "He cheated on me."
   "...Oh."
   Lois and Clark sat in awkward silence for a minute before Lois remembered her train of thought.
   "So, anyway, we found out that Luthorcorp's been spying on government projects, and maybe even selling them to foreign countries.  Lucius and I turned over the evidence to the MSCU today, and they're starting up an investigation.  Oh, and I get first dibs on the story."
   "Wow, that's great, Lois!" Clark said. "That could land you a job at the Daily Planet!"
   "Oh, you bet on it, Smallville," she said with a wink.
   Clark's smile suddenly faded.  "Wait a minute... Lois... if your name's on that story, Luthor's going to come after you.  You could be in danger."
   Lois rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I know, I've been told that already today.  Look, this is more important than me.  Besides, I'm not afraid of getting hurt."
   Clark put his hand on her shoulder and gave her his "resolute determination" look.
   "You won't be.  I promise."
   Lois couldn't help but sheepishly smile back.  She didn't know what it was, but something about him made her feel... different.  Like the tough persona she always felt the need to put on around others just didn't matter with him.  She felt... like she really mattered to him.  Like she was a princess.  Which was pretty ironic, considering that the other girl in the room was an actual princess.
   Diana regarded the other two with a certain sad realization.
   Lois's phone buzzed.  She flipped it out.
   "What? OH! Right, yeah, I'll be there in ten minutes. Bye."  She hung up and turned back to her friends.  "Sorry guys; I have an appointment at the Sharks Stadium.  Gotta run."
   Lois jumped up and zipped out of the room.
   Diana took a deep breath and sat down in Lois's seat, across from Clark.
   "Hey, um... I think we should talk."
   Clark suddenly felt a little nervous.  "Um... why?"
   She sighed.  "Clark, I... I don't think you should take me to the Christmas Formal."
   Clark was surprised.  "Why?"
   "...I know I was sort of aggressive in asking you out before.  I kind of put you in a bad position, what with Lois watching and everything.  I didn't even ask you if you wanted to come over for dinner and meet my mom; I practically ordered you to."
   Clark didn't want her to feel bad. "Hey, it's okay, I—"
   "No, Clark. It's not okay."  She smiled a little.  "You're just nice."
   Her smile faded a bit.  "Besides... it's pretty obvious that I'm not the one you really need to be with right now."
   Clark shook his head.  "Diana, I already promised that I'd go with you."
   "And I'm letting you go from that promise."
   She looked deep into his eyes. "You're meant to be with Lois, not me."
   Clark should have been happy to hear that, but he was concerned for his friend.
   "But what about you? Who are you gonna go with?"
   A gush of wind blasted through the room, and Diana suddenly felt someone leaning on her shoulder.  She looked up to see Bart, jokingly winking at her.
   "NO," she said adamantly, and shoved him across the room.

The Proof

   The main office of the Wayne Enterprises Metropolis tower was large, impressive, and usually empty.  It was only there to be used when the CEO of the company—currently Lucius Fox—was visiting.  As it happened, this was one of those times.
   Lucius sat at his desk, patiently awaiting his guest.  Lois stood to his left, casually sitting on the desk, legs properly crossed in front of her.
   Lucius took a quick glance at her.  She'd been like family to what was left of the Waynes and their friends—namely, Bruce, Alfred, and Lucius.  Lucius had heard from Alfred that Bruce and Lois had apparently broken it off, and that Miss Lane had taken it rather hard.  If she did, she certainly wasn't showing it.  She seemed to retain all the confidence and sharpness that often frightened adults twice her age.
   The elevator dinged.
   Inspector Dan Turpin walked out, looking gruff as ever.
   "Inspector," Lucius greeted, "thank you for coming."
   Lucius stood, and the men shook hands.  Lois gave Turpin a nod.
   Dan almost jumped back when he recognized Lois.  "Hey! 'Ain't you the kid who snuck into that school just ta get a lousy story?!"
   "That'd be me," Lois said without blinking.
   "Miss Lane has uncovered something of vital importance, Inspector," Lucius kindly interjected.
   Dan turned back to Lucius.  "Yeah?  And what might that be?"
   Lucius handed Turpin a plastic bag with a quarter-sized metal disk inside.  "This is one of a dozen tracking devices that were found on Wayne-Ferris aircraft prototypes.  According to our own analyses, they are of Luthorcorp design."
   Dan's eyebrow raised slightly.  "Huh. So you caught 'em in some corporate espionage, eh? Nice. That'll make 'em squirm for a while, tryin' to get outta that one."
   "Oh, it's much more than that," Lucius said.
   "How so?"
   "The Wayne-Ferris Air Base—and all aircraft on it—are partially funded by the United States Air Force.  Per that agreement, all aircraft are the property of the United States government.  Those tracking devices don't merely track the location of the aircraft; they record extremely sensitive data.  For all we know, Luthorcorp could have gained full knowledge of every plane in that hangar, as well as any prototype weapons the planes were carrying.  Put plainly, Luthorcorp has been spying on classified government weapons systems."
   Dan squinted his eyes and shook his head in frustrated thought. "Wait wait wait... why would they do that?  Wouldn't the government, I dunno, NOTICE that whatever Luthor comes up with is exactly the same as what you guys had already been workin' on?"
   Lois leaned in. "Unless they're not planning on selling these weapons to the United States government.  I'm betting it's no coincidence that the Regent of Kaznia was invited to Luthorcorp headquarters a week and a half ago, just a few days after these trackers were discovered."
   Dan's eyes widened with surprise.
   Kaznia.  Take the volatile history of Vietnam, the dictatorship of North Korea, and the supposedly-innocent public face of Iran, and you've got Kaznia.  Currently under trade embargo with the United States, and listed as a terrorist state.
   Dan's grin widened to match his eyes.  "So, you think Luthor's stealin' government military secrets and sellin' em to Kaznia?"
   Lois shrugged.  "Makes sense to me.  Even if Kaznia managed to get their hands on some of this stuff, they still don't have the resources to actually do much of anything with it."
   Turpin chuckled. "Heh. Like givin' a calculus book to a five-year-old."
   "More like giving a get-rich-quick book to a homeless person," Lois said with just enough attitude to get on Turpin's nerves.
   "We came to you," Lucius said, "in the hopes that you would be able to follow this lead to its source, and stop it."
   "Yeah, you can bet your fifty-thousand-dollar pants on that one."
   Lucius smiled approvingly.  "Very good.  I'll inform the staff at the air base that they're to fully cooperate and provide you with everything you need for your investigation."
   "...There's one other thing," Lois interjected.  "I want the story on this when it breaks."
   Dan rolled his eyes. "O' course you do.  Listen, this business ain't for kids, alright? You—"
   "Miss Lane was the one who discovered this, Inspector.  If anyone deserves the right to inform the public, it's her."
   Dan sighed. "Okay, I get that. I really do.  But you gotta understand, Miss.  Doin' somethin' like this... it'll paint a target on your head.  I don't think I need ta' tell ya that Lionel's not exactly the nicey-nice businessman he claims to be.  You could be hurt, or worse."
   Lois stared him straight in the face.  "How is that different from what you do every day?"
   Dan sighed again.  "...Alright. You got it. Gimme your number, and I'll give you a call when we've got somethin' solid."

Lack of Purpose

   The sun set over Metropolis, casting a gentle orange glow across the sky.  Above it all stood Diana, poised and elegant, her toes barely touching the clouds below.
   A gentle whistling in the air told Diana that Clark was floating up to meet her.
   "Hey," he said.
   "Hey."
   "...I tried to find you yesterday.  Your mom didn't know where you were, and you didn't answer your phone."
   She hung her head a little. "...I didn't know what to do."
   She looked at him. "I didn't mean to kill him.  I just... lost control.  I don't know what happened."
   Clark frowned slightly. "You were under a lot of stress. Are you sure it wasn't just because you were in the heat of the moment?"
   She thought about it for a moment.  "...Maybe, but... that's no excuse."
   They sat in silence for a long while, deep in thought.

   "...Clark, what are we doing?"
   "What do you mean?"
   "You remember what I said a while back? About how the chances of people like you, me, and Bart all meeting each other like this are ridiculous?"
   Clark nodded.  "Yeah. You said there must be a reason that we're together."
   "Right.  But... what reason is that?  It's not like we're doing anything important."
   "Hey, we fought Deadshot and beat him.  The police couldn't do that."
   "They couldn't?  Why not?  It's not like they ever really had a chance; we just jumped in every time to stop him.  And I think the last two times, he specifically wanted to get back at me for stopping him at Excelsior."
   "Yeah, I figured that must've been the reason.  But are you saying that we shouldn't be out trying to fight crime?"
   Diana let out an exasperated sigh.  "'Fight crime.' Doesn't it strike you as odd how easily those words escape our lips?  I mean, what normal person even thinks that way?  Do police even think about their jobs that way?  They call themselves 'protectors of the peace' or 'public servants,' not 'crime fighters.'  And you, me, Bart—even Bruce, a little—all used that same phrase.  'Crime fighting.'  Like it's stuck in our brains.  Why do we even have this idea?"
   Clark half-shrugged.  "I noticed it, too.  I figured it was because it's what we're meant to do.  Like a literal calling."
   Diana smirked at his idea.  It struck her as rather quaint.  "Clark... the gods don't give callings out for people like us to fight petty criminals."
   Clark resisted the urge to roll his eyes or frown at her.  "I don't take orders from the gods."
   Diana resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him.  "Fine then. Whatever deity you claim to believe. But seriously, think about it. If we have a purpose, it's to do things that everyone else can't. Bank robbers and mercenaries—even people like Deadshot—can usually be handled by the police.  We should be doing something more."
   "So... we should just sit back and let other people get hurt because solving their problems isn't our 'purpose?'"
   "No, of course not... it's just... I can't help feeling like there's something we're missing."

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."

Failure

   Two guards walked Floyd Lawton to his cell, keeping a violently tight grip on each of his bruised and beaten arms. As the door slowly slid open, Floyd gave each of the guards a smug grin. They shoved him in the cell, slightly harder than they actually needed to.  The prison had lost quite a bit of credibility with Lawton's unexplained escape last month, and all employees were under strict orders to treat him with unforgiving suspicion and as much brute force as state law would allow.  Of course, this only fed into Floyd's ego, as it proved just how important he truly was.
   The guards pushed Floyd down onto a lone chair in the center of the cell, chaining his handcuffs to the chair's back.  The feet of the chair were bolted to the floor.  Floyd was impressed.  Restrained like this, there was no way he could move in the slightest.
    It's kinda overkill, Floyd thought, considering I'm still stuck in a cell anyway.  Heh. Musta gotten on the warden's bad side, being the one-and-only prisoner to escape Stryker's.  Either that or he's still mad about the "incident" with his daughter.  One of the two.
   The guards left, leaving Floyd alone to contemplate his own greatness.  At the present moment, he was pleased with himself.  The girl was still alive and he'd been re-captured, but it wasn't over.  Luthor still had a way to break him out, and the girl apparently wasn't willing to kill him in the end.  If both those remained true, he cold simply break out again, and again, and again, until the princess had a bullet in her brain and there was no one left to take him down.  Except for maybe the other guy.  The bulletproof one he'd met in the school.  Floyd hadn't told Luthor about him; glossed over that part of the story.  He wanted the girl dead; he had no gripe with the other freak.  No reason to tell Luthor that there was possibly anyone else to be interested in.
   As perverse as it seemed, life was good for Floyd Lawton.  Even while chained up in prison, he had fame, recognition, respect, and—ultimately—freedom.
   A few of the lights in the hallway outside began to flicker.  Muffled sounds from down the hall told of minor commotion.  Floyd was intrigued.  He tried to lean a little closer to the bars, but his handcuffs held him back.  The lone overhead light in his cell flickered off.  A silent brush of wind told Floyd that something was moving inside the darkened room.  A few seconds later, the light came back on.
   A girl stood in front of Floyd.  She was young—no older than seventeen—but carried herself with a sharpness and a confidence beyond her age.  She wore all black—very form-fitting—and let her long, dark hair fall in front of the left side of her face.  Floyd wondered if she had some terrible deformity on that side of her face, or if it was just a stylistic choice.  He figured it was probably the latter.
   "You failed, Lawton."
   The girl had an accent.  Floyd couldn't place it.  Romanian, maybe?
   "Yeah, sue me."
   She ignored his joke.  "It's a shame, really.  Had you succeeded, you might have been on your way to one day joining us."
   "Joining? Who, Luthorcorp?  Yeah, I 'aint the businessman type.  Look, are you done?  Are you gonna get me out of here, or what?"
   "I speak not of Luthorcorp."
   "Wait, what...?"
   Suddenly, it made sense.  She wasn't from Luthorcorp; she was from his prior employer.  The one who hired him for the Excelsior job.
   "Aw, seriously?  You're upset over that job?  Come on; that was a stupid plan anyway!  I mean, why'd you need—"
   "My father's designs are not to be questioned, least of all by you.  Your assignment was merely a small part in his grand plan."
   Father? This girl was seriously starting to weird Floyd out.
   "Huh.  Okay.  Well, little girl, you go tell your daddy I'm sorry, and that I'll do better next time."
   She didn't blink.
   "The League of Assassins does not allow failure, Floyd Lawton."
   She reached behind her back, slowly pulling a short sword from its sheath.  With a single swift motion, she stepped forward and stabbed, slipping the blade gently into Floyd's heart.  She then stepped back, wiped her blade, and sheathed it.
   The light shut off once more.  When it switched on again, she was gone.  A few minutes later, the guards found Floyd's dead body sitting in a pool of his own blood.