Obligatory Disclaimer : I do not own anything (except maybe OC characters) all characters, places, worlds, universes…etc mentioned here belong to their respective owners and/or companies.

This is purely a work of fiction. Not meant to offend or incite, but to entertain and (maybe) inspire.

RISE OR DIE

The Flash was caked in blood when he appeared. He doesn’t even say much, he’s there physically but I sense that his mind is on something else entirely. He scoops me up and we’re away. No words, not a single hey or a hi, the man treated me like an ex-wife as we blurred to our destination.

I have questions, I do. But I’d get to find out what went wrong where he was taking me, it was obvious that something went wrong.

In mere seconds we’re back in the Batcave, the musk of wild bats intermingled with the scent of wet rock is unforgettable except now the smell of powerful antiseptics and fresh blood hung with the cave’s earthly perfume. On the operating table I was once acquainted with, was a profusely bleeding Thomas Wayne, a fresh hole torn clean through his side, just beneath his ribcage. Next to him and administering first aid was Martha, trying her best to stem the bleeding with as much gauze as her hands could hold.

Towering over her was cyborg, he looked like a demigod of steel and flesh, with an amputated metal arm that had a very smooth cut—as though it was done by a high powered laser beam. He gave accurate and timely reports of Thomas’ health to Martha; no doubt the machine-man hybrid was tapped into anything that had a smart chip within the cave.

At a glance it was obvious that things went badly. How bad? Very. Very, bad. I reached into my pouch and withdrew a vial of Dionesium, noticing that the once resplendent fluid lost its original intense glow. Regardless of how less powerful it became I still proceeded with diluting half its content with water giving it a paler green glow. I approached the convulsing Thomas.

Of course I was going to save him, I had to protect my investments and subsequently my life.

“Let me.” I said to Martha, grabbing a towel from the tray while I stepped past her to reach his face. Propping his head up prompted him to cough up globules of foamy blood which I wiped away with the towel, which I also subsequently used to keep his mouth open as I poured the luminescent fluid down his throat. He vomited it out.

“Drink.” I urged, pouring the last of it down his mouth and rubbing what little drops remained into his wound.

He bit down on the towel and let rip guttural screams that rumbled from the depths of his chest, and echoed deep into the cave, resulting in screeches of the startled bats. He collapsed soon after.

“He’s stabilizing.” Cyborg said, a hopeful undertone in his voice as he watched the bleeding stop and Thomas tremble less and less with each passing second. “What’d you give him?” He asked.

You want your body back don’t you.

This probably couldn’t give him back his body. Or maybe it could if I showed him where the pool was and allowed him to submerge himself within.

You already know that it’s something I won’t do. Not here, not now, I needed these people to help me get out of this alive, I couldn’t have them diverting their focus to other ends.

“I’ll tell you all about it when this is over.” I smiled at the machine man who took my answer at face value.

“Is he going to be okay?” Barry approached, looking down at the passed out elder Wayne.

“He will be. Can you tell me what happened?”

He sighed, leaned against the wall and peeled his mask off. “It wasn’t Clark we found; it was Kara. She was too far gone, skin, bones and rage. So much anger and hatred. We…we couldn’t help her; I couldn’t help her. She…” he trailed off and closed his eyes, burying his face in his hands. “She’s gone.” He whispered.

“You did your best Barry.” I consoled, placing a hand on his shoulder.

What caused that change? Did superman never make it to earth? Did his spaceship crash on another planet or was it destroyed?

How did they even kill Supergirl? From the info Barry gave me, she must have been weaker than Superman, and considering that the holding facility had ways to weaken her from extensive study of her biology, they must have obviously developed ways to eliminate her should she become a threat.

And if there’s a person you can trust to exploit and plan around weaknesses, it’s a Batman.

Fine. Guess we’ll have to do this the harder way.

“The fighting’s begun. The Atlanteans have invaded New Themyscira.” Cyborg brought up a hologram of soldiers armed in very advanced gear pouring out the sea in hovering war machines and into the flooded shores of what was once the United Kingdom. Amazons clad in golden armor and armed with a variety of cold weapons met the incoming charge and the bloodshed began. The fact that they could hold their own against better armed soldiers spoke volumes to their physical abilities and skills.

The image changed to one of an alien spacecraft being swallowed up by a gigantic kraken and summarily exploding in a blinding flash of white. “Hal Jordan’s kamikaze attack failed.” A moment of silence ensued for the hero.

“Urghmm.” Thomas groaned, stumbling up from the operating bed. “We need to move. Now.”

Barry sighed in relief, seeing Thomas back on his feet.

“Take it easy.” Martha chided him, providing a supporting arm to his limping form as he came forward.

“We need to go over the plan, make adjustments in light of current events, and,” I spoke and turned to Victor. “Can you get us your guy and brief him on the mission?” I asked. He nodded and approached a secluded corner to speak to our backup guy.

“This is what we’re going to do…” I began, outlining the finer details of schemes at play, of items that would make achieving certain endeavors easier. Of destinations, formations and tactics.

God help us. I hope he heard my prayer considering he existed. Perhaps he’d deliver me from your hands, save me from being your toy, the fucking entertainment to you sick fucks.

Haa. A silent sigh escaped my lips. One thing at a time. Let’s come out of this alive first.

*.*.*.*.*.*

What was once England was a wasteland of broken skyscrapers, dilapidated high rises, dirty, puddled streets, upturned cars, abandoned tanks, scorched fighter jets and lifeless bodies. Mauled, singed, skewered, bullet ridden, incinerated, lasered and mutilated corpses littered the streets like common trash, the sight an exhibition on the variety of murder and death during wars.

The amazons were brutal and wild—barbarians draped in the elegance of the female form. The Atlanteans were clinical and unceasing in their numbers—isolationist futurists who allowed war to blindly direct their path. And humans, the ones stuck between their war, were lost children fighting on both sides against advanced weaponry and demi-gods with nothing but mutants, lead slugs, wooden spears and ingenuity.

The blue blaze of Ground to Air plasma beams broke through the air like bolts of lightning, piercing past the layer of clouds and through the metal hull of our transport airplane, searing the airborne vehicle in half and sending it wildly off course.

Good thing we weren’t on it. Cyborg pulled his hand away from the laptop he was using to interface with the flight’s auto pilot. The Flash arrived last with Martha, finally done with his mission of stealthily transporting the entire team into the battlefield unnoticed.

I trained my eyes on Wonder Woman and Aquaman as they tussled and bulldozed their way through the destroyed cityscape and into the interior of the buildings.

I hid my shaking hands within my cape, took a silent breath and gazed at each and every one of us here. Team Batman—Flash, Tom, Martha and Victor. If they were emotions they’d be hope, wrath, madness and valor. I wonder what I’d be.

“We can’t all survive this. But if we do nothing we all die. I say we die fighting for a chance to live, that to be resigned to our supposed fates. By God I will not go quietly into the night, I will fucking kick, claw and scream!” The speech was more for me than them.

Let’s do this. Let’s fucking do this! FUCK!

“Let’s move.” I don’t know who spoke, but it was our signal. Either to our death or deliverance; tonight it becomes clear.

*.*.*.*