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Breaking

Lois strode down the hall connecting the parking garage to her family's apartment building, her shoes echoing off the gray concrete walls.
   She always hated this hallway. After dark, once most of the residents were home or asleep, it was constantly empty. Walking through here alone felt claustrophobic; like walking into a cold, lonely coffin.
   "Miss Lane," said a voice from behind her.
   Lois stopped and spun around. On the opposite side of the hallway stood Lionel Luthor.
   Lois immediately felt uneasy. Normally, she'd feign amusement at Lionel's attempt to intimidate her—or, at least, she assumed he was here to intimidate her. Why else would he show up alone at her home? She glanced at his right hand. A gun rested in it. Lois felt her heart beat slightly faster. Did he bring a gun just to scare her out of publishing her story? Did he know that she'd already published the story?
   "I warned you," said Lionel, "that this was not over."
   Lois saw fear in Lionel's eyes. His normally-calm attitude was cracking. His hands trembled slightly.
   Lionel raised the gun. Lois felt a shock of fear run up her spine.
   "Lionel... what are you doing?"
   "You wounded me, Miss Lane. My empire bleeds. But I am not yet dead."
   Lois, though disturbed by Lionel's self-ascribed royalty, understood his meaning. She'd found damning evidence connecting Lionel to hundreds of crimes. Not only had she—with the help of Ray Palmer—discovered Luthorcorp's illegal surveillance technology, but Bruce had given her copies of the video recordings he'd stolen from Luthorcorp's security computers—recordings that proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Lionel Luthor was the criminal mastermind behind innumerable abominations. In effect, Lois had already put the gun to Lionel's head and pulled the trigger. Lionel wasn't here to threaten her, or assure her of his absolute dominance. He was here to kill her.
   What could she do? Could she reach the door and get out before he shot her? No. Not likely. Could she call for help? No one would hear her on the other side of the thick doorway, let alone in their own apartments. Would Clark hear? Maybe. Just maybe.
   Dread filled Lois's heart. No, Clark was gone with the others. He couldn't save her.
   She fought back her emotions. "Lionel, it doesn't... you don't have to—" Tears broke her voice. "Please. Please, don't."
   Lionel, his hands still lightly shaking, didn't waver in his determination.
   "Vengeance is mine; I will repay."

   In the Lanes' apartment, a muffled echo was heard. It was nondescript and indistinguishable from any other vague noise, except perhaps to those trained to recognize it.
   In the cold hallway, the echo was deafening.
   Lois didn't feel the bullet rip into her chest, nor did she feel herself fall to the floor. Her entire body went numb as she collapsed and bled, the life draining from her permanently.

   Lionel felt shock run through his body. He took a precious few seconds to regain himself, then turned to leave the way he'd come.
   Lex Luthor stood in his way.
   Lex's face was covered in tears, his expression that of disbelief and horror.
   Lionel tried to reason with him. "Lex. You followed me? Son, I—" Lionel stopped in mid-sentence when he saw the gun resting in Lex's hand.
   "...What are you doing?" asked Lionel.
   Lex shook his head. "I... I can't let you do it, dad. Not anymore."
   Lionel cautiously stepped back. "Son, what are you talking about?"
   "I won't sit back and let you hurt people anymore."
   "You... you gave me your loyalty; you told me you wanted to follow in my footsteps—"
   "I LIED!"
   "...I see. Then you truly are a Luthor."
   "I don't care. I just want you to pay for what you've done."
   "So you want me to go to prison?"
   "No. You'll pay your lawyers a few millions to figure a way to get out."
   Lex raised his gun. "You need to die."
   Lionel felt ice crawl up his spine. "Son, please, we could work together. You and I. We can find a way out of this. We will own the world."
   Lex stilled himself. "I don't want that."
   Lionel took that in for a moment, then scowled as he raised his own gun. "You were never any good as a son anyway."
   A second gunshot sounded off, and Lionel Luthor's body fell to the floor.
   Lex, horrified at what had just happened, sank to his knees, weeping. He threw the gun aside.
   The door on the apartment-side flung open. General Sam Lane, Lois's father, stood alarmed in the doorway, a gun of his own in hand. He took in the room: Lionel Luthor, lying dead, his blood coating the floor. Lex weeping on his knees at his father's side. And finally, Lois.
   "Lois!"
   Sam dropped his gun and cradled his daughter's lifeless body.

Destiny

The Javelin slipped through the atmosphere, its stealth engines screaming silently into the night.

   Inside the Javelin, the group remained quiet. Clark, Diana, Hal, Bruce, Zatanna, and Barry all sat without saying a word.
   Diana walked over and sat down next to Hal.
   Hal gave her a nervous look. Was she mad at him for something else this time?
   "Hal, thank you," said Diana. "Thank you for coming for me."
   Hal smiled and gave her a "no problem" nod.

   Without warning, everyone in the plane felt something pass through them—like a ripple in the air itself.  The back section of the crew section exploded with light, nearly blinding everyone in the Javelin. Slowly, the silhouette of a man in a silver throne resolved. As the light faded slightly, the man came into clearer view. He wore a blue bodysuit, covering all but his face. His hands were placed together, and his face was set into a slight frown, as if in deep thought. The chair in which he sat hovered a foot off the ground.
   "Who are you?!" Clark asked the man.
   "I am Metron," the man said, his voice eerily monotone. "I am a traveler and surveyor; this Mobius chair is my ship, and time is my ocean. I, along with others, have been watching you."
   "What others?" asked Bruce.
   As if in response, five more beings appeared from the light vortex behind Metron.
   One of them was Bart. His clothes were torn and bloody in places; he looked exhausted.
   "Hey, guys," Bart said with a weak smile.
   The group bombarded Bart with a dozen questions.
   "Are you okay?"
   "Who are these people?"
   "Where's Circe?!"
   "It's okay, guys," he replied. "I'm okay. Circe's still stuck in timespace somewhere. This is the Legion." He pointed with his thumb at the four teenagers standing behind Metron. "They're from my time. The 31st Century."
   The tallest, a black-haired boy, stepped forward. "Rokk Krinn. Cosmic Boy."
   "Garth Ranzz. Lightning Lad," said the energetic red-haired boy at Rokk's side.
   A blonde girl smiled gently and nodded. "Imra Ardeen. Saturn Girl."
   "Brainiac 5," said the last one, a green-skinned blonde boy.
   "First," said Rokk, "I want to say what an honor it is to meet you all." Rokk turned to Clark. "Especially you, Kal."
   Clark gave him a wary look. "How do you know that name?"
   "...It's a long story," said Rokk. "But, secondly, we owe you all an apology."
   "...Why?" asked Clark.
   Brainiac 5 stepped forward. "We sent Bart back in time, hoping to save him from an overcharge of his powers."
   "An overcharge?" Barry asked.
   "Yes," Brainiac replied. "Bart is a third-generation speedster. His biology is a little different. His powers began to manifest when his body was still too young to handle them, and we needed to find a way to siphon the extra energy."
   "We thought," said Rokk, "That using his powers to send him back through time would save him. It did, but... in doing so, we did irreparable harm to the time-space continuum."
   "'Harm' is technically the wrong word," said Brainiac. "Things have changed."
   "What do you mean 'changed?'" asked Diana.
   "Events have now changed," Brainiac explained. "The entire world is now different than our history remembers it."
   "How is that possible?" asked Bruce.
   "It's incredibly complicated," Brainiac said, slightly annoyed. "We remember things differently because our time-travel technology—which we perfected two years after we sent Bart back in time—shielded us from the changes in the timeline."
   "You keep talking about changes," said Clark. "What changes? What's different?"
   "For one thing," Rokk said, "you were never supposed to meet while still in—what do you call it?"
   "High school," said Imra.
   "Right. You were never supposed to meet this early."
   "...So then why have we met?" asked Clark.
   "At times of great conflict," said Metron, his voice resonating with a slightly chilling tone, "warriors of good often rise to challenge evil. Their meeting is destined."
   "...So what you're saying," said Diana, "is that we met earlier because we were supposed to defeat some sort of evil that's now come earlier in the timeline?"
   Rokk nodded. "That's our thinking, yes."
   "Could it have been Circe?" asked Zatanna. "Could it have been her that we were supposed to defeat?"
   "It is indeed possible," said Metron.

   "...The world from before," said Bruce, "how was it different?"
   Metron's cold expression seemed to narrow slightly. "Are you sure you wish to know? The secrets of existence are not meant for those who wish to live in peace."
   "Yes," Bruce answered.

   Metron's chair hovered a bit higher, and the light behind him brightened and shifted while the rest of the light in the cabin darkened. A massive image of the Earth resolved, hovering in space. "This Earth is but one of many." The Earth slid to the side, revealing a line of identical Earths in a single line stretching backward into space. "Each Earth represents an entirely separate universe. It is a multiverse we live in, with countless variations between worlds." The line of Earths moved and spun until a single Earth sat in the center. "This," Metron explained, "is the primary Earth. The lone world upon which all others are mirrored from. It is the true ideal; the standard by which all other worlds are judged. Before the boy's venture through time, your world was virtually identical to this one in every respect."
   Metron lifted his hand toward the youths. "Gaze now upon your true destinies."
   The vortex of light burst forth, nearly blinding everyone in the Javelin. Clark, Bruce, Diana, Barry, Bart, Zatanna, and Hal each saw visions.
   Diana saw herself—older, clad in red, gold, and blue, the lasso of truth hanging at her belt. She recognized the golden eagle on her armor and the shining tiara on her head: the garments of both Amazonian royalty and that of the true Ambassador of Peace.
   Barry saw himself in red, running near the speed of light itself as the protector of Central City.
   Bart saw much the same thing, but... different. He would not become the hero that his grandfather would, at least not until much later in life.
   Zatanna saw herself much as she was now, but with a far greater grasp of her magics. She effortlessly cast spells of immense power, battling the great evils of sorcery.
   Bruce saw darkness. He had become a dark knight wrapped in shadow, his every thought and action forged into a weapon against Gotham's criminal underworld. He would save the city night after night, but sacrifice his own livelihood in the process. He was alone.
   Hal saw nothing clearly. Whatever lay before him was overpowered by a blinding green light.
   Clark saw a vision of himself—older, taller, and clad in blue and red. He stood in the sky as a beacon of hope, a leader of many, and the world's greatest hero. And, ever-present at his side, stood Lois. She was the one who gave him hope; who loved him and accepted his love in return. She was his beloved, and though the world never knew it, it was her and Clark's love that had saved the world a thousand times over.
   All seven of them then saw a single vision. Their future selves stood together with many others, standing watch over the planet, protecting it from evil time and time again.
   Bart's eyes widened as he recognized the group:
   The Justice League.

   In an instant, the vision winked out of existence.
   "This is what may come, if all goes well," said Metron. "But do not become complacent. The actions of many determine the destinies of all."
   "Now," said Rokk, "it's time to go. Bart?"
   Bart nodded, then turned to his friends. "Guys... I need to go."
   "What do you mean 'go?'" asked Clark.
   "Bart is basically a lightning rod for time-space distortions," Brainiac 5 explained. "We need to bring him back to his own time—our time—in order to figure out what to do about it, and to keep any more damage from being done to history."
   "...You're leaving?" asked Diana.
   Bart nodded, doing his best not to tear up. He walked to Diana, and hugged her. "Thanks," he said. "For... y'know, being there for me." Diana smiled sadly in return.
   Bart pulled away from Diana, and nearly backed into Bruce, who had extended his hand. Bart, surprised, shook Bruce's hand. Bruce and Bart exchanged a solid look, the way that comrades-in-arms might.
   Finally, Bart shared a quick man-hug with Clark before walking back to Metron and the Legionnaires.

   "We'll be picking up Iris on the way, too," Imra explained. "Don't worry when she disappears."
   "Will we ever see Bart again?" Clark asked.
   Rokk smirked. "Maybe. If Brainy here can figure out how to do that safely, we'll make it happen."
   Brainiac 5 rolled his eyes. "Please. Don't insult my 12th-level intelligence. Of course I can figure it out. It'll only take time."
   "Speaking of which," said Rokk, looking at the chronometer on his wrist, "we need to go, now, while the rift is still open."
   The Legionnaires stepped back towards the swirling light. Brainiac tapped a few keys on his wrist-mounted computer, and the light completely enveloped the time-travelers. Clark could barely make out Bart mouthing the word "bye" before he, Metron, and the Legion members all disappeared along with the time rift.

   "Did she say 'Iris?'" asked Barry.
   Everyone else remained awkwardly silent.

The Daily Planet

Perry White looked over the mass of information laid across his desk. Photos, documents, notes, USB drives with audio recordings—all focused on Luthorcorp and its CEO, Lionel Luthor.
   Ordinarily, even this mass of evidence wouldn't be enough to absolutely prove Luthor's guilt in any particular crime. But together with the new evidence linking Luthorcorp to the espionage on government property, it might yet prove to be more.

   "See this?" said the teenage girl across from Perry, holding up her phone. "A friend of mine—the same one that figured out the tracker device was Luthor tech, by the way—also managed to tap into the sub-frequency that the trackers were running on. They broadcast a weak signal, but have barely-encrypted information that's not hard to tap into. Look at this."
   Lois slid her phone across Perry's desk, and pointed at its screen. "This is a map of all the signals in Metropolis."
   Perry looked at the map. Over a hundred tiny red dots were overlaid on it.
   "These red dots represent the tracker devices?"
   Lois nodded.
   Perry accidentally tapped one of the dots on the phone's touch-screen with his finger. Audio began to play from the phone's speaker.
   "...we should go straight to the press as soon as the police finish their investigation."
   "Creepy, huh?" said Lois. "They've got microphones and everything."
   "...My god," said Perry, his mouth agape. "There's one at the city court. And the mayor's office. And the police station."
   "Yup. As well as in the main offices of all of Luthorcorps' local competitors, and all the major news outlets." Lois casually looked around the room. "There's one in here, too, somewhere."
   Perry remained silent for a moment.
   "...so he knows we're on to him."
   Lois nodded.
   Perry grinned. "Good."

   Lois leaned in. "This is complete proof of Luthorcorp's corporate espionage; if they've had these things around for very long, it's probably how they managed to take over so much of Metropolis's economy so fast."
   "...As well as how they managed to avoid getting nailed by the courts," Perry added, deep in thought.
   "Exactly," said Lois. "It should be easy enough to prove that Luthorcorp acted with illegal foreknowledge of events."
   "...And once the authorities arrest Luthor and inevitably do more digging, they'll follow the breadcrumbs to his criminal operation, as well."
   "Hell to the yes." Lois gestured to the photos and files littering the desk. "And I've got a helluva lot of breadcrumbs here."

   Perry leaned back in his chair and regarded Lois for a moment.
   "Kid, how old are you?"
   "Seventeen."
   Perry shook his head in practical disbelief. "Seventeen. Do you know how old the average professional reporter is?"
   "Older than me?"
   "Heh. That's the biggest understatement I've heard all week. Let me break it to you this way, Lane. I have never hired anyone your age to do anything more than copy work or photography. Never."
   Lois raised a challenging eyebrow. "You've never met anyone like me before."
   Perry realized she was right, of course. But something else bothered him.
   "Look, kid... I don't want you getting hurt. Luthor's already made you a target in the past—hell, he practically told you he'd kill you once—and if I print this story with your name, there's no telling what could happen to you."
   "If it wasn't me with a target on my back, it'd be someone else. Besides, Luthor already knows that I'm the one who found him out; it's not like it'll save me just to have someone else slap their name on the ink."
   Perry sighed. "Damn, kid, you really are fearless."
   Lois grinned. "Always have been."
   Perry let himself smile. "Well, you're still in school, so I can't hire you full time—no arguments! The best I can do is put you down for part-time, and let you write up this ONE STORY. Maybe a few side articles here and there. When you graduate, we'll see about getting you something full-time."
   Lois felt an unending surge of joy flow from her toes to her head, but she did her best to push it down.
   "Works for me."
   "Alright then. Go write that article."
   Lois slammed a file down on the desk.
   "Already done, Chief."
   Perry could see the title of the document peeking out from inside the file folder:
   LIONEL LUTHOR: CRIMINAL MASTERMIND.

Choices of the Gods

"...Are they... dead?" Hal asked.

   "It's hard to say," Barry replied. "The speedster just warped himself and the lady into a rift in time. I don't know if either or them could survive that."

   "Best guess?"

   "Well, from what I can tell, the Speed Force is protective, so they're probably alive... but lost somewhere."

   "But Diana is definitely dead," Zatanna said somberly.

   Clark felt a slight surge of anger rush through him. "How can you know that?" he asked.

   "Her soul is no longer attached to her body, and her body's been destroyed. No matter how you look at it, that's death."

   Hippolyta still sat on the beach, unblinking. She hadn't moved an inch since Diana's death, her fingers clasped tightly around her daughter's empty, sand-covered clothing.

   Barry crouched beside her. "Ma'am?" he said gently. But she did not respond. He waved his hands across her face, but she didn't react.

   "Guys, I think she's in shock."

   Clark shut his eyes and thought furiously. His hands clenched into fists that could shatter steel.

   There must be a way, he thought. She can't be dead.

   Clark's eyes opened.

   "I'll be right back."

   Clark lifted off the ground and floated towards the mountain.

   He landed at the doorway of the Temple of the Gods—the same temple that Circe had thrown him out of earlier. It now lay empty and dark.

   Clark stepped inside. The entire interior was made of a huge circular room lined with columns that separated twelve tapestries along the walls—a tapestry each for the twelve ruling gods of Mount Olympus. Clark recognized each of them: Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, Athena, Demeter, Ares, Hermes, Apollo, Artemis, Hestia, Hephaestus, and Aphrodite.

   Clark raised his voice, as if to challenge the heavens themselves.

   "I KNOW YOU'RE HERE. SHOW YOURSELVES."

   The room's pervasive darkness faded as the twelve tapestries shivered and began to faintly glow.

   Zeus's tapestry began to glow more brightly than the others. A voice called out from it—proud and powerful.

   "YOU DARE MAKE DEMANDS OF OLYMPUS, MORTAL?" it boomed.

   "YES, I DO."

   Another voice—the softer and feminine voice of Hera—echoed in response. "We know of you, Kal-El of Krypton. Why do you call upon Olympus? What is it you desire?"

   "...I want you to restore Diana's life."

   Zeus's voice echoed like thunder as it laughed.

   "We granted life to that girl once. We shall not do it again."

   Clark felt his eyes burn with anger. "It's because of you that she's dead now! You were the ones who let Circe go free!"

   "It was not our intent to cause suffering," Hera replied. "We had no way of knowing what she would do. My husband is correct; we already granted Diana a second chance at life, in order to settle a debt to the Amazon people. A third chance will not be granted."

   "A second chance?"

   "Diana was not conceived in Themyscira," a third voice said. Clark recognized its tapestry as belonging to Athena. "She was conceived before the battle which destroyed the Amazons' former nation. In that battle, Hippolyta was injured, and her baby died while still in the womb. We placed that child's soul into a new body."

   "So do it again. You owe her that much."

   "I owe Diana of Themyscira NOTHING," Zeus replied.

   "The hell you don't! You let Circe out of prison and didn't to a thing to stop her, even while she gathered power from THIS TEMPLE. YOUR TEMPLE."

   "ENOUGH!" Zeus yelled. "You should know better, boy, than to lecture gods on morality!"

   "You're not gods. You're selfish beings who sit on a mountaintop and deal out false justice."

   "You blaspheme ME?! I could smite you from the earth where you stand!"

   Clark put one foot forward in challenge, cracking the stone floor beneath it.
   "Do it, then."

   Zeus's tapestry flared with anger, then silently faded into darkness. One by one, the others faded as well, until only Athena remained.

   "I congratulate you, Kal-El," said Athena. "I know of no one before who has forced Zeus to withdraw."

   Clark was confused. "But... why?"

   "You are more powerful than you know. And in this age, we are weakened. Very few still pray to Olympus, and our power therefore wanes."

   "...Can you do anything?" Clark pleaded.

   "Without the consent of Zeus, no. I am sorry."

   Athena's light faded, and Clark was once again alone in the darkness.

   Clark walked back to the beach. The others wanted to ask him if he'd found any help, but his silence gave them their answer.

   "What happened?" Bruce asked.

   "I went to ask the 'gods' to restore Diana's spirit. They said no."

   Hal hung his head. "So she's really gone."

   Clark took a deep breath. "Not yet."

   Clark walked to the sands where Diana had disintegrated, and knelt. Taking another deep breath, he shut his eyes.

   The others watched from afar.

   "What's he doing?" Hal whispered to Bruce.

   "Hell if I know," said Bruce.

   Slowly, the sands at Clark's knees began to glitter and glow. Clark leaned back in surprise, and Hippolyta finally broke from her shock. Gradually, the sands began to swirl in a small gust of wind, collecting into a vaguely humanoid shape. The grains of sand slipped into the whole, as if each grain had a specific purpose and place.  The shape grew larger and firmer, until finally it settled into the shape of a young woman's body. Silently, the sands faded into smooth skin.

   Her eyes shot open and she inhaled sharply, as though breathing for the first time. Diana was alive again. She looked at Clark, confused.

   "C-Clark, what..."

   Hippolyta was overcome with joy and relief. "Diana!" she said, wrapping her daughter in her arms.

   Diana hugged her mother back, still more confused than anything else.

   Clark took off the red jacket he was wearing and wrapped it around Diana's naked body.

   Barry, Hal, and Bruce looked at each other.

   "Um... what just happened?" Barry asked.

   A gentle wisp of wind blew from behind the group, and footsteps crunched the sand.

   "Diana's life has been restored," a voice said.

   The group looked to this new figure. He wore a navy-blue cloak and hat, with a golden amulet around his neck.

   "You," Diana said. "I know you; you were in Metropolis three weeks ago."

   "And you know the Zataras," Bruce added. "Who are you?"

   "I have been known by many names over many ages, but most call me the Phantom Stranger. I am a servant of the Almighty."

   "The Almighty?" said Hippolyta. "Do you refer to Olympus?"

   "No. I serve a higher power."

   "Why am I alive?" Diana asked.

   "The powers of Olympus crafted your body imperfectly, and it is because of their foolishness that the sorceress Circe was able to exploit the flaw in their magics. Because of this injustice, you have been granted a new life; one not cut short by supernatural forces beyond control."

   "...I feel different," Diana said.

   The Phantom Stranger nodded. "Though still welded from the sands of the Earth, your body is now true flesh and blood. Your former powers remain, but you are no longer in danger of reverting to dust again."

   "What about the other kid? The speedster?" Barry asked. "Do you know anything about him?"

   "He is safe for the moment, trapped in the seas of time. Friends of his and mine are retrieving him as we speak; they will return with him soon. For now, you should return home. The spell over the Amazons will break at sunrise, and they do not take lightly to invaders."

   The Phantom Stranger faded into the night, and was gone.

   Clark turned to Diana. "So... do you remember anything at all?"

   Diana thought for a moment. "...Nothing after Circe knocked me out at school. But... after I... died... I remember a bit. I could still see what was happening, like in a dream." She turned to Clark and smiled. "I remember you. You wouldn't give up on me." She frowned. "But... the gods. They did. They wouldn't restore me."

   "It is not our place to question the gods," Hippolyta reminded her daughter. But Diana didn't respond.

   The sun was beginning to rise on the horizon. Hal checked his watch. "Okay, we need to be leaving now if we wanna get home before sunrise hits the U.S."

   Clark began to walk towards the others and the Javelin. Diana moved to follow, but Hippolyta held her by the arm and stopped her.

   "Mother?" said Diana.

   "We are not leaving, Diana."

   Everyone else stopped.

   "What do you mean?" Diana asked.

   Hippolyta hung her head. "I have been away from my people for far too long, and I fear you have as well."

   "Mother... I don't want to stay here. I can't stay here."

   "This is your home, Diana."

   "No! I can't just hide on this island for all eternity; I want to go back to America."

   "You have no choice in this matter. I am staying, and so are you."

   Diana stiffened. "No. I'm leaving."

   Hippolyta, surprised by her daughter's rebellion, felt worry creep into her mind. "Please, daughter, I have already lost you once tonight. Don't make me lose you again."

   Diana wiped a tear from her cheek. "Sorry, mother."

   With that, Diana turned and walked away.

   Clark, noting Diana's distress, put his arm around her as they walked. She leaned on him and sobbed into his shoulder as she left her Paradise Island behind.

The Battle

The skeletal corpses walked ever-closer while the stone golem loomed above.

   Bart looked around. "What do we do?" he asked the others.

   Hippolyta unsheathed one of her swords and brought her shield forward. "We fight."

   Hippolyta ran towards the throng of skeletons. As if in response, the skeletons quickened their speed to match her.

   Zatanna planted her feet firmly in the sand and began to concentrate.

   "Tlah sesproc!"

   Nothing.

   "Yortsed sesproc!"

   Nothing.

   They must be counter-cursed, she thought to herself. My magic has no effect.

   Clark lifted off the ground and began to drift toward the golem. The golem raised a slow arm, but Clark was already moving too quickly—or so it seemed. The golem's hand suddenly moved towards Clark at lightning speed, slamming him with a literal ton of force. Clark was thrown into the ground twenty yards away, creating a sand-cloud in his wake.

   Hippolyta twisted and struck at the skeletons with her blade. In battle, she was a wonder to behold. It was said that she stood above all others in true skill; that she, the Queen of the Amazons, was the mightiest warrior in all the earth. Here, it certainly seemed to be true. She ducked under the sword of one corpse, and parried the strike of another. Her sword came up and stabbed through the mouth of one skeleton. The corpse completely ignored this, and continued its assault. Hippolyta withdrew her blade and stepped back. She mentally derided herself: of course such an attack would have no effect; these corpses have no flesh to injure. When another skeleton moved towards her, however, she merely slammed her sword sideways into its head, full-force. The steel blade smashed through the skull, and the skeleton flopped to the ground, fully "dead" once more.

   Bart ran alongside Hippolyta, doing his best to keep the extra skeletons off her back—and to make sure he dodged all the swinging blades himself. It was difficult work. The skeletons crowded the beach, leaving Bart no extra space to run. In effect, he was completely out of his element.

   Bruce stayed back from the battle, initially. He didn't have Hippolyta's heightened strength, and therefore wasn't able to smash through the enemies as easily. He also didn't have a weapon.

   One lone skeleton noticed Bruce, stopped, then ran towards him, spear raised. Bruce waited for the skeleton to get just close enough, then made his move. When the spear came down, Bruce spun to the side, wrapped his hands around the wooden shaft, then brought his ankles up towards the skeleton's neck. With a hard twist, he snapped the corpse's head right off its neck. The skeleton fell to the ground, lifeless. Bruce hefted the spear in his hand. "Heh. This'll do."
   Bruce ran into the fray of bones and swords, angling his spear into the ribcage of a skeleton as he did so. He put his full bodily force on the shaft, causing it to shatter the skeleton's entire midsection. He ducked under another skeleton's blow, then brought the back end of his spear directly onto the corpse's neck, snapping it in two.
   Zatanna focused with all her ability. If she couldn't directly attack the skeletons, perhaps she could affect them indirectly. She mentally picked out a target, and set her mind on the space between its ribs. She took a deep breath, and held out her hand.
   "Ria edolpx!"
   Violet sparks tingled across Zatanna's fingers, and the open space inside the skeleton's gut exploded with flame and bursting air. Broken bones flew in every direction, and what was left of the corpse wasn't enough to hold onto what little false life it had been given.
   Zatanna breathed a sigh of relief, but felt herself weaken slightly. Though she was what most would consider a prodigy of the mystical arts, she was only seventeen, and had an infinite amount of knowledge and skill yet to gain. That single attack drained her a bit. She guessed that she could only pull off that attack another dozen or so times before becoming exhausted.
   Clark rose up from the ground, flying back at the golem. This time he dodged the golem's sudden punch, and landed a punch of his own squarely on the golem's head. A loud CRACK sounded as a fist of steel collided with a face of stone. The sixty-foot-tall monster staggered backwards, his face cracked from the blow. It seemed to groan in pain—or mere annoyance—and swung its left arm in Clark's direction. Clark barely swerved out of the way.
   Clark was caught off-guard here: he'd never had to control his flight so precisely. Before, he'd mostly only had to focus on direction: up, down, sideways, forward, backward, et cetera. He'd never had to be so quick in dodging fast-moving heavy objects aimed at him. Flight was somewhat intuitive, but there were still intricacies that he had yet to master.

   Hippolyta stabbed, struck, slashed, and kicked at every enemy in sight. But they were too many for her. One caught her across the back with his sword, cutting away part of her white robe. Another nicked her side with the tip of his blade, and another slashed away at her belly. Eventually, her robe was in tatters. When she found a brief few-second break in the fighting, she tore the white cloth away, revealing thick leather armor lined with gold. Her battle-spirit renewed, she charged back into combat.
   Clark and the golem exchanged punches, each successful strike sending a mild shockwave through the air. Clark almost began to sweat. Finally, he decided that this was enough. He focused all his willpower into a single motion as he sped forward through the air, striking the golem's head with enough force to break a tank in half. The golem's face exploded, and it fell back into the sand, lying motionless.
   Suddenly, the mountain-temple erupted with an even brighter light.
   "Clark!" Hippolyta yelled. "Circe is nearly done! Hurry!"
   Clark nodded at Hippolyta and turned to fly towards the mountain.
   "Wait, Clark!" Zatanna called after him. "I can give you a little protection. Hang on."
   "Nrut cimag ot citenik dleihs."
   A purple bubble briefly appeared around Clark before fading away.
   "There," Zatanna said. "That should help. Now go!"
   Clark nodded and thanked her before flying away.

   Bart looked across the fire-lit beach. Zatanna was barely able to stand, Bruce had a deep cut along his shoulderblade, and Hippolyta wasn't much better off. And there were still two dozen more skeletons to contend with. Bart felt something hit his head, and he fell to the ground. A skeleton raised his spear, a mere second away from the killing blow. Bart's legs were pinned down by the skeleton's broken, bony feet. He couldn't move.
   Suddenly, Bart felt a tingle. A kind of gentle electricity, running through his nerves. He recognized it immediately: the sensation he always felt when he accessed the Speed Force. But this was different. It wasn't a result of anything Bart was doing... it was a ripple of something else happening. Someone else nearby was using the Speed Force.
   Bart saw a blurred red fist covered in golden lightning strike the skull of the corpse above him, shattering it into a thousand pieces. The blur settled into the shape of a young man with his hand outstretched towards Bart.
   "Hey. Barry Allen. Nice to meet you."
   Bart felt surprise shoot through his body, and he leaped up to his feet at super-speed without taking Barry's hand.
   "Woah!" Barry said with surprise. "Another speedster, eh? Cool. Wanna help me take out these guys?"
   "Uh, sure, but... how?" Bart nervously asked.
   "You're connected to the Speed Force. I can feel it running inside you." Barry raised his fist. "Just coat your fist in the Speed energy when you make a punch; it'll take away the impact force so you won't break your hand."
   And with that, Barry zoomed away, Bart close behind him.

   Bart had a meager understanding of his powers, but Barry seemed to know them completely–almost as if he were speed itself incarnate. As if the Speed Force itself didn't just flow through him, but from him. With the red jacket he wore, he was a blur of constant motion, zig-zagging back and forth between each skeleton, taking down each with a simple speed-punch. Bart joined in as well, and within two seconds, the two of them completely eliminated the undead enemies—all before the first skeleton hit the ground.
   Bruce, Hippolyta, Bart, Barry, and Zatanna exchanged glances for a moment.
   The ground roared again. The golem had not, in fact, been defeated. It rose up and began walking towards the group once more.
   The whine of jet engines preceded a rapid flash of light and a thunderous rattle from behind the group. A spray of huge bullets pounded into the golem's belly, shredding its midsection. Within seconds, the five-story-tall stone monster had melted into dirt and gravel.
   The Javelin hovered over the gentle waves of the ocean, its 20mm rotary cannon still red-hot and spinning.
   Everyone was either too exhausted or confused to speak for the next moment as the Javelin set down on the beach next to the group. When the boarding ramp lowered, Hal walked out.
   "Barry! Man, you have a ridiculous sense of timing."
   "Ha! Look who's talking, 'Highball.'"
   Zatanna looked back and forth between Barry and Hal. "Wait, what's going on? Who are you, blondie?"
   Barry awkwardly felt through his hair. It wasn't that blonde, was it?
   "This is Barry Allen," Hal explained. "He's that friend of mine that I said I tried calling. I left him a message with the island's coordinates."
   "Took me a half-hour to get here, running across the ocean like that," Barry said with a smile.
   Zatanna was a bit unbelieving. "You ran across the ocean?"
   "Yeah. If you move your feet fast enough, there's no reason you can't just bounce off water."
   "We do not have time for this!" Hippolyta yelled. "My daughter is—"
   An explosion of light burst from the temple. Out of nowhere, Clark fell backwards out of the sky and slammed into the beach, as though he'd been tossed by the very light from the temple.

   A laugh sounded from the night sky above—feminine, cackling, and mischievous. Circe gently floated down towards the beach, Diana's unconscious body hanging limply by the collar in her hand.
   "Oh, you little mortals. So brave, so confident, so sure of yourselves... so fragile. I must admit, though, I'm a little confused. Why exactly are you all coming to save little miss princess here? I mean, Hippolyta I get. I turned her into a pig a few centuries ago, attacked her people just now, blah blah. She's got a bitch to burn. But what about the rest of you?"
   "Diana's our friend," Clark said painfully as he slowly pulled himself up off the ground. "We'll do whatever it takes to help her."
   Circe was amused by Clark's resoluteness. "Really... are you willing to die?" Circe dropped Diana's limp body on the ground and raised her hands. Blinding trails of fiery light and wind swirled all about the beach.
   Hippolyta ran at Circe, sword in hand. Circe noticed, but didn't move in the slightest. Before Hippolyta could reach Circe, she slammed into an invisible wall.
   "Clever, huh?" Circe said. "Y'see, Hippolyta, the gods figured that you'd eventually want revenge on me for what happened before. But I've already served my sentence and been released. So they had this nice little bubble-shield made for me. Keeps you from coming within five feet of me. Of course, it also stops me from coming near you, but that's not really important at the moment."
   A voice sounded from Circe's other side. "See if it can stop this."
   Circe turned just in time to see Barry's fist hit her face. She fell over and mentally cursed at herself for forgetting to put a protection spell over herself earlier. Oh well, no matter. Now was as good a time as any.
   Circe stood again, now with a thin translucent purple layer of light over her skin. Barry ran up and hit her in the face once more, but Circe barely flinched. She backhanded Barry, and her magical power tossed him thirty feet away.
   "Tfarc rallip fo erif!"
   Some of the flames that swirled above Circe's head came flying down in a burning pillar. Circe screamed momentarily, but quickly extinguished the flames, mostly unhurt by Zatanna's attack. Circe turned toward the little magician.
   "Nice move, kid. Sorry, hate to kill a fellow witch and all, but—"
   Circe fired a blast of sand at Zatanna—which transformed in mid-air into a swarm of knives. In the blink of an eye, Clark moved in the way, the knives shattering on his chest.
   Bart ran over to Barry. "Got any other awesome ideas?" he asked.
   "Yeah, actually," Barry said with a smile.
   Circe suddenly felt winds swirling close about her. Two crimson blurs ran in a tight circle, creating a vortex of wind and sand. Circe was surrounded by a wall of sand; she couldn't see a thing through it.
   A blurred fist struck out at her from within the wall. And another. And another, and another... A flurry of a hundred punches smashed into Circe, beating her down even despite her protective shield.
   Circe, bruised and slightly bloodied, fell to her knees. No, she thought. This would not end here.
   Circe yelled, sending a powerful shockwave across the entire beach. Bart and Barry were sent skipping across the sands, too stunned to get back up.
   Clark swiftly flew towards Circe, but she stopped him in mid-air.
   "I finally figured it out," she said smugly, turning to Zatanna. "You put a spell on him to turn magical power into physical power, right?"
   Circe snapped her fingers, and the invisible shield around Clark reappeared before shattering. Circe grinned. "Too late for you now, boy."
   Bruce pole-vaulted off his spear and landed both feet in Circe's face. Clark fell harmlessly to the ground.
   "ENOUGH!!" Circe yelled, slapping Bruce away and placing her other hand on Diana's body.
   "BY THE POWER OF HECATE, I BREAK THIS SPELL AND TAKE ITS POWER."
   Diana's eyes snapped open, and her body began to glow with gentle sunlight.
   "NO!" Hippolyta yelled. But she couldn't reach her daughter or Circe; the protection spell prevented her from getting close enough.

   Bart slowly lifted his head off the ground and took everything in: Barry and Bruce were barely conscious, Clark was mostly powerless against Circe, Hippolyta couldn't do a thing, Zatanna looked like she was about to faint from exhaustion, and although Hal had run back to the Javelin, it looked like he wasn't going to get it off the ground in time to use its guns to save Diana.
   Bart saw it all in slow-motion. Circe was drawing magical power from Diana, and there didn't seem to be anything anyone could do to stop her. Bart felt helpless. All he could do was run and try to hit Circe as fast as possible. But without Barry helping him, he didn't think that would be much help.
   But, he realized, there was one other thing... one power he hadn't considered. It would be a risk, and likely a one-way trip. After all, without Barry's cosmic treadmill, there was no way to control it. But it was the only option, and Bart was willing to do it.
   Bart stood up, took a deep breath, and ran. He slammed into Circe, picked her up off the ground, and immediately jumped into a level of speed so fast that he literally broke the laws of timespace. In a single flash of light, he and Circe completely disappeared.

   The others stood in shocked silence. Hal ran up behind them from the Javelin.
   "What happened?" Hal asked.
   "I think..." Barry said, slowly getting up. "...your friend just carried that witch lady into... time."
   "How is that possible?" Bruce asked.
   "I don't know... I wasn't even sure it was possible until now. And he barely knows how to use the Speed Force... I don't think he's coming back."

   Hippolyta knelt at Diana's side.
   "...Mom?" Diana said weakly. "Mom, I..."
   Diana began to glow with light again.
   "Oh no," Zatanna said, horrified. "The spell is still breaking. It hasn't stopped."
   Diana's breathing slowed, and her skin began to turn a pale shade of brown. Life faded from her as her body quickly transformed entirely into sand, gently melting back into the beach from whence it came.
   Diana of Themyscira was no more.

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.