JLU 2001 Fanfiction

What led to this...

It's been over a year since The Blackest Night; a year since the the world and its heroes defeated the Wizard and his machinations of Earth 2, pushed back the invasion of the White Martians and survived the delusions of the mad Oan, self-proclaimed god Krona! Victory however did not come without its price...

Many lives were lost in the myriad battles that ranged between three dimensions, both Meta and Human alike. Heroes died, cities were devastated and even a universe was lost to Creation. In the aftermath Humanity both feared and embraced their heroes, and in the end there was nothing left but to mourn and eventually rebuild. Life would go on.

And so too the Justice League, its members scattered across the globe helping wherever they were needed most, helping to recover, fighting those that would take advantage of disaster. Now it was time to rebuild their own, to present a symbol of hope, to fight injustice, to right that which is wrong and to serve all mankind!

One Year Later...

CHAPTER ONE:
The Search

Gotham City,
The roof of The Wayne Foundation:

The Martian Manhunter, Superman, and Batman stood on the roof of the Wayne Foundation in downtown Gotham City. They stared off into the distance, watching a container ship make its slow passage into Gotham Harbor.

“I’ll gather the design and science teams together to look at those options,” J’onn said.

“While we explore our shortlist of possible sites,” Superman responded.

“No, we can’t move into the Cave,” Batman answered the unasked question.

Kal-El smiled at J’onn. He saluted his friend as he took to the air. Batman caught a dangling rope ladder leading to the Batplane where it hovered silently above.

	*The World's Greatest Superheroes!* A Place to Call Home
JLA #57 Year Eight: One Year Later	by Mark Anderson / Curtis Fernlund

ROLL CALL: JLA

MARTIAN MANHUNTER	SUPERMAN	THE BATMAN	STEEL	Atom	Hawkman

MISTER TERRIFIC	DR. MIDNIGHT	BLUE BEETLE	NATASHA IRONS

22,300 miles above the Earth,
Geosynchronous orbit above Metropolis:

Superman hovered beside a space plane, three generations ahead of what NASA was currently working on, with a large bat logo on its wings and belly. Batman stood on the space plane’s wing in a bat-ified space suit, redesigned for ease of movement and strength of manufacture. His magnetic boots holding him in place.

Before them, a small diffuse debris field floated in space, the remnants of the last JLA moon-based satellite.

“We’ve done this before,” Superman said.

“Too visible,” Batman scowled. “Too vulnerable.” He regarded the debris field. “We should do something about this. I thought the only remnants left up here were going to burn up in the atmosphere on reentry?”

“All the oribital geometry and nudging left these bits in their orbital node,” Superman answered. He squinted and red beams shot from his eyes, vaporizing the debris cloud. “Everything potentially hazardous was already gone. The only inventory unaccounted for are some of the Trophy Room objects.”

“We need to be tracking those down,” Batman said.

“One crisis at a time,” Superman responded. He glanced around. “We’re agreed that this is a no?”

Batman nodded, returning to the space plane’s cockpit and firing the engines.

Together, the Dark Knight Detective and the Last Son of Krypton slipped into a parabolic orbit toward the southwestern North America continent.

Desert wasteland;
WNW of Roswell, NM;
US Government designation: Area 38:

“Military reservation.” Batman shook his head. He crouched on the crest of a shallow valley running northeast toward the White Sands Missile Range. “I don’t like it.”

Superman scanned back and forth from where he stood to Batman’s left. His arms crossed over his chest. “It’s certainly remote,” he said. “I want us to be more visible... More apparent.”

“Not remote enough,” Batman said, gesturing at where three jeeps and a group of soldiers in non-military attire stood watching them.

“Aside from them though...” Superman trailed off as he gestured at the miles and miles and miles of cactus and sand that stretched away to the horizon.

Batman stood dusting desert sand from his gloves. He shrugged. “Governmental interference either directly or via the commanding general of that military base hidden out there between us and White Sands.” He shook his head. “If this one becomes a serious option, I’ll have to use my veto on it,” he said.

“So...you’re saying if this one becomes a finalist, you are going to veto it?” Superman asked.

“Yes.”

“So effectively, you are giving yourself a double veto? Saying you are voting against this place, but if it gets approved you are vetoing it.”

A small smile played at the edge of Batman’s mouth.

Superman just shook his head. “Moving along.”

Detroit, MI;
The Detroit River Warehouse District;
The former HQ of Justice League Detroit:

Dale Gunn sat on an old folding chair at the open loading dock door. His beard was grayer and he was a little more bent than on his first association with the League, but he was still well muscled and in shape. He sipped an amber liquid from a glass. He ran his hand along his bald pate, massaging the back of his head. Beyond the open overhead doors, across the parking lot, he could see the Detroit River. The warehouse had stood empty for years...along with most of the neighborhood. Dust and cobwebs...rats and Lord knows what else were all over the place.

“Foolish to think they’d want to come here.” He shook his head. “Those kids deserved better than to just be forgotten like they were.”

“You’re right. They do deserve better. ...they did deserve better,” Batman said, seeming to materialize out of the shadows.

Dale squinted at the man in black, but he didn’t jump. “I got used to J’onn going immaterial or invisible and coming through the floor and the walls at all hours. And to Gypsy appearing and disappearing like a human chameleon.” Gunn shrugged, shaking his head. “So that appearing out of the darkness trick, doesn’t affect me much.” He smiled.

Batman smiled back and shrugged as well. “Force of habit. Never know when I’m going to walk up on someone who has been possessed... is secretly a super-villain in disguise... up to no good... or just needs a good scare.”

Gunn laughed at that.

Superman shot from the river, trailing a spray of water behind him. He arched up and over coming to a hover near the open loading dock door. “The lower levels are all in excellent shape. The equipment was all cannibalized in the JLI days but it would be fairly easy to get it all up and running again.”

“We were about to discuss that,” Gunn said, gesturing at Batman. “If you gentlemen would share a glass of tea with me, I’ve got a plan for this old warehouse.”

Thirty minutes later, Superman and the Batplane flew southwards, pacing one another. A plan was indeed in place. Batman would use his “contacts” with Wayne Enterprises to purchase some of the surrounding land. Gunn would oversee the filling in of the lower levels. They were going to raze the warehouses and build a park. The centerpiece of the park would be statues of Steel, Vibe, and Elongated Man.

“Gunn is a good man,” Superman said.

“J’onn and Arthur both chose to work with him,” Batman said, “of course, he’s a good man.”

Dubai:

“Why are we here?” Batman asked as the teleporter flare faded depositing he and Superman in front of the Burj Khalifa, the current tallest building in the world.

“Because, the man has a flare for architectural brilliance. Clark Kent had to be here to do an interview this afternoon anyway. And even though we have America in the team’s name and I’m supposed to stand for Truth, Justice, and the American Way, it’s equally important that the rest of the world sees us and knows that we are here for all of them, everywhere, in every way that we can be,” Superman answered. “And for us listening to him, whether we say yes or no, he’s going to donate two million dollars to the Red Crescent to help feed the hungry in the Middle East.”

“I surrender the point,” Batman answered as Sheik Ali bin-Faisal stepped forward to greet them.

An hour and a half later, they had seen a bleeding edge architectural, almost science fiction, billion dollar plus headquarters presentation done for flash and tourism more than the protective benefits of having the JLA based there.

Finishing his presentation, the Shiek said; “The design with very little modification could become a space elevator as well.” He consulted his wrist watch. “If you will excuse me, I have an interview with a reporter from The Daily Planet.”

When they were alone, Batman asked; “So...Justice League of Dubai???”.

“When we tell him no, I could see him buying his own team like Jost Industries tried with the Doom Patrol,” Superman responded, “or like Max Lord did when he usurped the JLI.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing. This part of the world is under protected against meta threats. That’s why Waller and whatever task force she manages to get clearance to run get in so much trouble in the Middle East,” Batman said.

Batman squinted. “You’re super-speeding back and forth holding this conversation and interviewing the Shiek as Clark Kent, aren’t you?”

“How could you tell?” Superman asked, thinking that he had given something away.

Batman chose not to answer. Best Clark not know that it was just a guess. Mystique, after all, was a powerful tool in the arsenal of a superhero with no meta powers.

“Go finish your interview. We’ve got a few more stops to make.”

Washington D.C.;
The Hall of Justice:

A state of the art, monument-style building designed on the carcass of the partially destroyed former JLI embassy in Washington DC. The building’s existing design fit in well with the decor of the nearby National Mall.

“It is a lovely building,” Superman said as he floated through the structure, his feet a few inches above the ground.

“I don’t like it being this close to the White House or the tourists,” Batman said gesturing toward the large windowed portico out at the front of the building where people milled passing on their way to one or another Washington destination. “And, again, we’d be too close to a seat of power... invites interference.”

Superman smiled. “Because it’s so easy to interfere with you.”

“Not me,” Batman responded, “the others. It could get... distracting.”

“Uh huh,” Clark answered, shifting his eyes to the side glancing at his old friend. He decided to follow some of Pa’s sage advice and keep his own counsel on what his friend really meant or what he believed Bruce thought on the matter. “It’s a beautiful location though.”

The Arctic Circle;
The Fortress of Solitude:

Batman stood with his arms akimbo looking up at the statues of Clark’s birth parents. He always felt a bit uncomfortable here. He knew Clark noticed that while Wonder Woman and some of the others called him Kal, he usually didn’t. Calling him Clark humanized him more in his eyes. Clark went to pains to make humans and humanity feel normal around him. Kal seemed... was an alien powerhouse who despite his good intentions could... someday...

“Penny for your thoughts?” Superman asked landing beside his friend.

Bruce shook his head. “Do you really want to share the Fortress? Doesn’t it defeat the impact and purpose of a Fortress of Solitude, if you let the League move in.”

Superman shrugged. In that shrug, Batman saw the Kansan country boy shine through. He saw the man... the friend he called Clark... and there was a lot more Clark there than Kal.

“We could always set up at the Batcave?”

“That wasn’t funny this morning... still not funny now... Kal.”

Superman shrugged again as they moved toward the large entrance doors of the Fortress.

The Batplane;
Flying southward from the Arctic Circle:

Superman paced the Batplane, doing slow lazy circles around the plane as they sped southward. Snow rimed tundra stretched out as far as they could see in any direction, having left the Arctic Ocean behind them.

“We could set up through the JLI Embassies. Not all of them were completely mothballed. Some could be up and running in a few weeks,” Superman said through his JLA earwig communicator.

“It’s an idea. I always believed that the embassy system spread the team’s strengths too much. Even if we went with an open and big room membership, we’d still be spread out. The League needs focus...defined...laser-like precision,” Batman added. “The embassies work best if there are dedicated teams based in them,” he said referring back to the short lived Justice League Europe.

Banking the Batplane toward the southwest; “We’ve got one more real world option. It’s a long shot, but worth a look.” he paused. “If for no other reason than to make sure that if someone is watching us, they’ll shy away from co-opting the place for themselves.”

Superman nodded flying in train behind the Batplane.

A mountain top chalet;
Northwest Colorado:

As they approached, Superman noted that the estate was huge. There was evidence of some past construction behind the mansion that hadn’t been completed, didn’t appear to have gone beyond the foundation stage.

Batman put the plane into hover mode, pulled a zip line from the side of the cockpit, and leaped for the Earth below, allowing the line to belay him quickly to the small driveway in front of the imposing edifice.

Entering, they walked through a huge ballroom. Grand leaded windows, some partially broken out, looked out on mountain vistas.

“It appears to have been abandoned for some time,” Superman noted the dust and sparse cobwebs.

“The family who had it built failed to realize how high in the mountains this really was,” Batman responded. His gaze swept the rooms. “Circumstances never allowed them to move in and use it as the dream ski chalet that they wanted.”

Superman hovered in a slow circle, casting an appraising glance back at his friend.

“Yes,” Bruce Wayne responded, “my father built it.” He grimly smiled as he glanced at what could have been a childhood playground for his younger, un-orphaned self. “We’re hundreds of miles from the nearest town of any size. The main house is complete and huge even by Wayne Mansion standards. Alfred’s quarters,” he nodded toward a hallway that ended in a wooden barricade, “weren’t finished. Foundations were laid for a servants compound, a huge garage, tennis courts, and a full size basketball court...” he trailed off.

Superman let his friend’s silence stretch. It was rare when Bruce fell into a quiet recollection that didn’t involve Gotham and the darkness that made him the Dark Knight.

Walking out on the veranda that hung just off the cliff face, revealing a long mountain valley, Suprman asked, “Didn’t T.O. Morrow have a base near here?”

Another a long moment, then, Batman nodded. “We’re close. That case was the last time I was here. I toured the house before returning to Gotham. It surprised me that Morrow had set up that close to one of the Wayne holdings.”

“We were lucky. When Reddy blew apart,” Superman shook his head, trailing off. “It was sheer luck that Firestorm was able to reintegrate Red Tornado with the Tyrant before the elemental managed to attack a population center,” Superman responded.

The referenced battle between the JLA, T.O. Morrow, the Tornado Tyrant, and the Tornado Champion took place in Justice League of America #192 - 193 (July-August 1981). Number 193 was also notable for including the original preview sampler of a new comic that was about to take the comics world by storm...All Star Squadron.

Batman regarded the ballroom. “This place isn’t right for a headquarters. Too many ghosts,” Batman said softly.

“Let’s look in on Morrow’s lab,” Superman suggested. Batman nodded following Superman out of the abandoned palace in the mountains, just another place filled with more than its share of spectral memories.

A brace of minutes later, the World’s Finest team stood in the old lab. The cave wall broken inward where they had come, years before, to attack Morrow following his ambush of Aquaman... and to free the Red Tornado. Snow piled the floor, flurrying into the cavernous room from the light fall outside.

Squatting down and scooping up a handful of snow, “Doesn’t look like anyone has been here since we shut it down all those years ago,” Superman said.

“I’m picking up an odd energy signature,” Batman said, waving his bat-shaped scanner at the room and the deeper chambers within the mountain. He set his mouth in a hard line. “It’s weak...or trying very hard to conceal itself.”

Scanning with his x-ray vision, Superman said, “Could be one of Morrow’s machines?”

“Hmm,” Batman punched some codes into his handheld scanner, uplinking it with the Batcave’s super computer. “The wave pattern is familiar. Energy index looks... almost organic.” He glanced into the dark of the deeper cavern, adjusting the optics in his cowl to allow him to see in the dark. “Could just be a...

“Clark, it’s a Shaggy Man!”

CHAPTER TWO:
Let’s get Shaggy

THOOM! A furry fist slammed into Superman. The monster’s other fist grabbed a handful of his cape. The momentum of the punch threw him outward. The plastalloy beast yanked Superman back to him, delivering another blow. KRA-KOOM!

***The Shaggy Men were accidentally created by Dr. Andrew Zagarian, while trying to develop a synthetic human tissue substitute for use during organ transplants. Instead, the new organo-plastic substance began replicating in the petri dish. It grew exponentially and fast, becoming Shaggy Man 1, who faced down the Justice League on two occasions, once being trapped with a 2nd Shaggy in an endless battle in a cave, the second being activated by Hector Hammond, before meeting its end, exploded by Speedy during the first Crisis on Infinite Earths. Shaggy 2 again attacked the JLA while it was rampaging through Russia, before being lured onto a rocketship and fired into space by Batman. The Shaggys were classified as Planetary Level Threats due to their strength, resilience, and mindless destruction of anything that moves. (Justice League of America #45 (June 1966), Justice League of America #104 (February 1973), Justice League of America #186 (January 1981), Crisis on Infinite Earths #9-10 (December 1985-January 1986)***

The Shaggy Man raised Kal-El over its head. His bellow echoed down the mountainside as he threw Superman down the mountain.

A spattering of stones built into an avalanche that chased the Man of Steel’s tumbling form down the mountain’s side, burying him under tons of newly fallen snow and rock.

The distant boom of thunder covered the sound of the final crash in the valley far below. Lightning lit the sky beyond the mountain lab’s broken entrance. Zagarian’s half alive creature stood silhouetted in the lightning, jagged mountain peaks visible beyond him.

Batman eyed the creature. The scanner in his hand beeped. “Well, you aren’t Zagarian’s first.” He shifted the scanner with his thumb. “And you aren’t one of Luthor’s knock offs.”

Understanding dawned on Batman’s face. “You’re the one that I lured onto that rocket in Russia and shot into orbit, aren’t you?” Batman closed the scanner and slipped it back into its pouch on his utility belt. “As far as I knew, you were still in deep space. The rocket that you went up on is in a long orbit around the sun,” Batman said eyeing the monster as it eyed him. “I’ve been keeping an eye on it. Making sure that you weren’t going to jump up and surprise us.

“Yet here you are,” he said as he slowly began to circle to the plastalloy creature’s left. Lightning in the mountains delivered an intermittent strobe effect to the cavern.

Dimly, the Shaggy Man regarded the Batman. This was the man-creature that caused him to be launched into the black cold. This creature was dangerous. He couldn’t be allowed to remain here. The Shaggy Man turned and leaped across the valley.

An explosive batarang flew through the spot where the Shaggy Man was standing a second before. The batarang stuck in the wall of the cavern. Before it could explode, Batman sent the disarm signal. He retrieved it and put it back in his utility belt. He stared across the valley as the Shaggy Man went over the mountain and out of sight. “Smarter than the average Shaggy Man,” he said under his breath. At the summit of the opposite peak, the Shaggy Man looked over its shoulder before disappearing into the next valley over. Batman’s eyes squinted a moment. “A LOT smarter than the average Shaggy Man.”

Arriving at super-speed from where he had fallen to the bottom of the mountain; “He’s stronger than normal for the Shaggy Man too,” Superman said, coming to a hover.

Batman nodded in the direction the Shaggy had gone. “I’ll catch up. There’s something I’ve got to check out first.”

FWOSH! Superman zoomed off.

Batman turned at a barely heard scraping sound from deeper in T. O. Morrow’s old cavern lab complex. Raising a finger, the Dark Knight tapped the side of his cowl, cycling his vision filters to allow him to see deeper into the dark. He moved toward the back of the chamber.

Stepping into the corridor, he swept his gaze. The hallway was empty. Motion at the extreme end of the far corridor caught his eye. Moving quickly, he covered the length of the hallway.

Looking around the rough carved entrance, he saw bared teeth in a furry face.

Superman crested the mountaintop at speed, scanning the valley, rapidly, with his telescopic vision. Nothing moved in the valley. Supes turned his attention to the next valley and the next.

The Shaggy Man shifted direction once he was over the crest of the mountain from Batman. Leaping to the northwest, covering ½ mile swaths at a bound, in moments he was miles away from where Superman was looking for him. Landing, he squatted on his haunches before flexing his plastalloy leg muscles and launching himself onward. His arms raised to balance his leap as he covered huge forested tracks of land before crashing back to earth.

A long haul, 18-wheeler driver in hour number 20 of a day spent violating DOT regulations so he could deliver on time passed beneath the Shaggy Man. “What?” the driver cried as he slammed on his brakes. Leaning forward, looking through his windshield and scanning the sky, he could have sworn that he saw a giant orangutan flying through the air over the mountain road.

“Geez!” He breathed out, rubbing his eyes. “I’ve got to find a company with a reasonable delivery schedule.” Scanning the sky once more, he slipped the truck back into gear and moved out, promising himself that the next truck stop or roadside diner that he came across he was going to park it and take a well deserved nap.

Batman eyed the creature displayed in his light gathering lenses. The cavern chamber was mostly dark, yet, both he and this large hairy being could see just fine.

He noted that the creature was a she. As far as he knew, no one had ever encountered a Shaggy Woman. He stood stock still, presenting the least threatening aspect that he could, at least as nonthreatening as a 6’ 2”, 210 lbs bat could be.

Slowly, he slid his hand to his utility belt. By touch, he ran his fingertips over the possible weapons. Tranq darts... cryo capsules.. Bat goo foam projector...

He froze as he detected movement behind the female creature. Two smaller creatures joined their mother staring at the strange being standing at the door to their den.

The mother beast hadn’t moved or made a threatening gesture other than the growl and baring her teeth. Batman slowly moved backward, careful to not make a sound.

A moment later, the mother beast peeked around the corner into the cavernous passage leading back to the entrance chamber. The rough hewn hallway was empty.

“There you are,” Superman murmured as he cleared the forested slopes. 5,000 feet below, the Shaggy Man was crossing a two lane mountain road just behind an 18-wheeler.

A whistling sound caused the Shaggy Man to look up. KRA-KOOM! Superman slammed into him ripping a crater in the ground around them.

CRACK! Shaggy backhanded Superman slamming his furry fist into Superman’s jaw, knocking the Last Son of Krypton through a stand of nearby trees.

Roaring, the beast charged after Kal-El. TA-ZAK! Twin beams of heat vision struck the plastalloy creature.

The Shaggy Man’s skin smoked, melted, and morphed reforming into a harder surface. Superman’s heat vision reflected back.

BRUMP! Superman fell from the sky struck by his own full power heat vision blast. Smoke rose from him as he crashed through trees dropping to the forest floor, a dozen yards off the side of the mountain blacktop.

Lightning flashed as the impending storm clouds finally released their potential. A torrential rain lashed the valley as thunder roared.

Superman rose from the valley floor. Floating up, he scanned the area. A superspeed search of the immediate area failed to reveal which way the Shaggy Man had gone. He shook his head. “A Shaggy Man who runs from a fight and moves with this kind of speed.”

A moment later, he saw Batman come over the treetops on a a pogo stick looking contraption with a helicopter blade at the top of it and a foot and arm rest situated below. “The storm is interfering with his energy signature,” Batman said. Slowly turning, he held his scanner out. “I’ve lost it.” Lightning stroked overhead and the rain intensified. “He’s not our normal run of the mill Shaggy Man.”

“I was just thinking that,” Superman said landing beside him. Superman regarded the heli-stick.

Absently, Batman said, “You’ll be able to buy them with a stepped down hover engine next Christmas, if we can get the FAA to recognize them as a toy. This one can fold into a briefcase and can get up to 100 miles per hour in straight line chases.”

Batman nodded back toward T. O. Morrow’s cave complex. “I’ve got a pretty good idea where the Shaggy is going. And why.”

Seconds later, Batman and Superman stood on a ledge facing the opening into T.O.’s lair across the valley’s chasm. The Sasquatch and her young met the Shaggy Man at the lab’s shattered entrance. The Shaggy had shed the protections that it had built up while battling Superman and resumed its normal appearance.

The young climbed on the Shaggy Man clinging to his hair. The plastalloy beast reached out and stroked the head of the cub hanging from his shoulder. Turning, the creature chuffed the air looking directly at Superman and Batman. Superman raised his hands open palms facing the supposedly mindless monster once created by Dr. Zagarian.

“Well... how about that? That’s something that you don’t see everyday,” Superman said.

Batman nodded. “Even in this business.”

They stood watching the Shaggysquatch family group as it watched them for a minute before retreating back into their den.

“Since this borders the Wayne holdings, I believe I have an option to buy the land already in writing somewhere. I’ll have Lucius look into it. Set up some kind of monitoring equipment to make sure that they leave people alone... and vice-versa.”

Batman hit a control on his belt and the Batplane looped lower overhead. Snapping his heli-stick out, he stepped onto the footrest and revved up the chopper blades lifting off. “Let’s go home.”

“J’onn,” Batman spoke tapping a communicator channel open as he turned the Batplane toward the east coast of the United States. “We’ve checked the potentials. Nothing is jumping out at us.”

From nearby, Superman shook his head. For all of Batman’s grim exterior, he did have a sense of humor. It was just so dry and acerbic that to some it seemed nonexistent. Clark knew that he and the Robins were the only ones that Bruce ever let see it. Maybe it was more that he wasn’t just a creature of the night to them, more man than bat as opposed to how the others saw him... or how Bruce wanted them to see him.

“We may have a better option, Batman,” J’onn said glancing around the small conference table at Hawkman, Steel, the Atom, and Mr. Terrific.

“We’re exploring an idea that would need to be anchored in real space... but floating in subspace and Limbo,” J’onn said. He brought up a space fortress looking construct.

“Welcome to The Keep.”

CHAPTER THREE:
The House that J'onn Built

Metropolis,
Suicide Slum;
Steelworks:

Natasha Irons sipped at her Snapple Iced Tea as she strolled into the Steelworks Factory’s main Tech workshop. As always her senses were almost overwhelmed by the assault of various sights, sounds and odors. She loved the smell of grease and gasoline mixing today with the sharp scent of burning metal. She looked up as a shower of sparks rained down from the shadowy ceiling, heard the whine of straining metal as the arc laser welder seared into a sheet of what looked like titanium, making it pliable for a few moments to be molded into place.

She could see her uncle high up over the stained concrete floor swinging from the rafters in his harness as he worked the metal into place, the sheet of shiny blue being fitted over a sturdy skeletal framework suspended by heavy duty chains from the ceiling supports. She shielded her eyes against the glare of the welding tool’s laser, watching as John Henry Irons worked, shirtless and sweating. He was in his element.

Her uncle had been busy the last few months, working feverishly to recreate those things that he could here on Earth that would go into the Justice League’s new headquarters. Wherever that was going to be. She gathered that Superman, Batman and the Martian Manhunter were out scouting locations but had so far come up empty. Which was fine for her uncle as it gave him time to work; to build more and more replacement parts and apparati to make up for all that had been lost when the White Martians had dropped the Crime Syndicate’s satellite onto the Watchtower on the Moon.

Natasha glanced at the bulk teleporter situated on the far side of the workshop as she crossed the room. There were several crates stacked up alongside the platform, apparently waiting to transport whenever that creepy Hawkman was ready for them on his end, wherever that was. Her uncle had told her that the Thanagarian was working on the larger aspects of the base in someplace called the Still Zone. Reality didn’t quite work right there, and time was a bit skewed but it allowed them to get a lot done free of gravity and the relative laws of physics. Hey, whatever worked…

“Uncle John!” Natasha called up, shouting to her guardian who was either too lost in his work or had his ear buds in. Probably listening to that ‘Old School’ stuff that he loved so much. She saw that he had on his bionic exo-gloves to help him maneuver the heavy metals he was working with, as well as his tinted goggles, so he probably could not see her.

“Uncle John!!” she called out again, but he was oblivious. Natasha looked about on the floor and saw a small scrap of metal lying on the concrete, which she picked up and hefted into the rafters. She saw her uncle stop and look down as the scrap bounced off of his thigh. A moment later he was descending in his harness wearing a huge grin.

“Hey, baby,” he said with a huge grin as the harness whirred to a stop leaving her uncle dangling at almost eye level. “What’s up?”

Natasha set her empty bottle on a small tool cart and folded her arms across her breasts. “You’re like, pushin’ sixty hours, Unc. You need a break. Y’know, eat, sleep,” she sniffed, “shower.” Natasha made a show of waving her hand before her face. Her uncle chuckled.

“Sorry, Tasha,” he said with a wide grin. “I’m pumped. Sixty hours? Doesn’t seem like it, but I’m almost done. Another twenty minutes and I’ll have the generator’s housing in place. Soon as Katar sends the signal I’ll ship it off to him and call it a night.”

Natasha Irons twisted her lips and stared at her ‘adopted’ father dubiously. She knew better. “Uh-hunh. And while you’re waitin’ you’ll start on the next project and get so caught up that you’ll lose track of time. Then sixty will be pushin’ seventy-two.”

Steel gave her an offended look, then crossed his heart. “Promise. I’ll finish up the housing, ship it off to Hawkman and then call it a night.”

“It’s like, 11:30 in the morning, Uncle John.”

“Really?” John Henry Irons glanced at the digital screen embedded into his glove. “Thirty minutes… tops. Then I’m all yours.”

“Okay… Thirty minutes. Then I get out my can of whupass.”

John Henry Irons laughed as he directed the harness back up into the rafters. “Promise!” he called down just before the shower of sparks started in again.

Natasha Irons sighed, watching a long moment before turning on her heel and heading for the door again. She would toss last night’s dinner and put today’s breakfast into the fridge in its place. She wondered why she bothered…

The Still Zone…

“Beetle, hand me the spanner.”

“Rrrowwrr!”

Katar Hall popped his head through the open maintenance hatch and gave Blue Beetle a smoldering glare. Ted Kord gave him a sheepish smirk and presented the spanner handle first across his raised forearm. “Your spanner, sir,” he said in a stuffy British accent, his smirk becoming a grin. Hawkman grumbled as he snatched the tool from the Beetle’s hand.

“Save your jokes for Gold, Kord,” Hall said as he slipped back into the crawlspace of the maintenance shaft and got back to work. “We have a lot to do and no time for your inane antics. Did you finish rerouting the dual core mods on the environmental control?”

“About an hour ago, your Hawk-ship,” was Kord’s reply, annoying and making Hall grimace. “System check gave a read out of one hundred percent on the air feed, heating system and gravity wells. Another job well done.”

“What about the computer relays?”

“All locked in and running diagnostics on the sensor array. Oracle knows her stuff.”

That she did, Hawkman thought as he applied a bit of elbow grease to locking the final connection in the tertiary generator’s coils. Things were moving on at a good pace, but Kord’s prattling was starting to get on his nerves. Pity the man seemed a mechanical genius, or maybe idiot savant was more fitting.

With a final grunt of effort Katar Hall pulled the spanner free and attached the leads to the diagnostic. Within seconds the liquid display lit up and showed one hundred percent in all of the power grids save one. Hall frowned. “Check the fixtures on the coolant tubes. I’m getting a low reading here.”

“On it.”

Perhaps he was being too harsh. Kord was pulling his weight and knew his business. Hall suspected he would even be likable, if not for the endless jokes and immature banter. He would be glad when this was all behind him though. Of that much he was certain. After his last stint with the League he had had enough, but he knew that his knowledge was invaluable in the construction of the new base and when J’onzz had asked he just could not say no.

“We got a bad sprocket here,” he heard Kord shout from across the engineering chamber. “Maybe we should have gone with Cogswell Cogs instead.”

Hawkman blinked. What?

But even before he could comment the power bar on the diagnostics reader shifted from yellow to green topping in the upper percentiles. “That did it,” he called out as he pulled the leads free and dropped the Reader into his toolkit.

“Who da man?”

Hawkman sighed as he heaved himself from the maintenance shaft and proceeded to fit the hatch in place and lock it down. One of Kal-El’s robots flitted past as he stood wiping sweat from his brow. Superman had loaned his smaller Kryptonian robots for the hazardous work of building the anti-matter power core and dealing with the devastating energies involved. Hall had been against the matter/anti-matter reactor as a main power cell, but J’onzz and Kent had convinced Wayne that that was the better way to go. Ionic would have been better Hawkman had argued, but there was some question as to stability in the Still Zone.

“What next, your beakness?” Kord said as he strolled across engineering with a conceited smirk.

“Must you always act the ass?” Hall asked as the Beetle stopped short, his smile faltering.

“Just trying to lighten the load, big fella,” he finally said, forcing a new smile. “No reason we can’t enjoy what we’re doing, right?”

“Lives depend on our doing a proper job here, Kord. Our comrades demand our full attention. Your childish banter distracts me, which is why the coolant lines were not properly sealed.”

“Hey, we’ve been workin’ hard non-stop for God knows how long. People make mistakes, which is why we got each other’s backs, right?”

“We cannot afford mistakes in this.” Katar Hall scowled shouldering his tool bag. “Go and help Firestorm with the metallic conversions.”

“Yeah… sure…” Kord looked crestfallen as he gathered his gear and left Engineering. At last… peace.

“Just a bit hard on him, don’t you think?”

Katar Hall turned to see Michael Holt coming into the chamber wiping his hands on a rag as his three metallic spheres hovered about him following his path. He stuffed the rag into his tool belt as he pulled a water bottle free and took a long swallow.

“He gets on my nerves. Kord needs to focus.”

“He’s doing his job,” Mister Terrific said wiping his lips and sliding the bottle back into the holster on his belt. “I know you’re in charge of all this, but you should cut him some slack.”

“I do not suffer fools.”

Holt shrugged. “Ted Kord’s no fool. He’s brilliant and a hero in his own right. Perhaps a bit light-hearted, but Lord knows we can use it. It’s been a rough year for us all.”

Hawkman sighed. “How are things on your end,” he asked trying to change the subject.

“Computer and Mechanics Labs are set up and locked down. Pieter’s putting the finishing touches on Sickbay with the latest that Steel sent through. He should be done in about an hour.”

“Good,” Hall said twisting and popping his back and neck. The Still Zone warped time, but his body was still feeling the grind of the hours of work.

“You look like you could use a break. When was the last time you slept?”

“I’m fine,” Hall bristled.

“Tired equals mistakes, Hawkman. Hit the sac.”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t make me pull rank,” Holt said picking up an I-Pad and scrolling through the latest readings. “I still lead the JSA, and last I heard you were still a member. Get some sleep, Carter. We’ll call you if you’re needed.”

Katar Hall stared at Michael Holt seething inside. The audacity! There was so much left to do. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“Fine. I’ll be in my quarters.”

Hawkman strode towards the doors and the turbo lift beyond, ignoring Holt’s wishes that he have a good night.

He so wanted this to be done…

The Microverse:

“It’s really impressive, Professor.”

“Ray, please.” Ray Palmer beamed at the praise coming from the intricately mechanical mind of John Henry Irons. The man was a genius in Ray Palmer’s
book, at least in mechanics and electronics. The advances he had made in relation to the League alone were astounding. “And thank you.”

“Hmmph!”

The Atom glanced at his old friend and frowned. Carter Hall had been through hell the past few years. Shiera was gone, though there was a younger woman sporting the wings of the Hawkwoman. Ray could never really get the generations straight in his head, even though he was one of the few that recalled the changes that had occurred through the various Crises…

Carter Hall was an Egyptian prince reincarnated over the eons time and again. At some point that reincarnation delivered him and his soul mate to Thanagar, and that had apparently driven him just a little bit mad. Now he seemed some hybrid comprised of the two personas but lacking the better parts of both. He was angry all the time, quick to fight and cynical beyond belief. Palmer wondered if it was the lack of Shiera.

“It is impressive… Ray.” Hawkman stepped to the computers and scrutinized the Network Grid Display that was up on the main monitor. “But then you always did
try your best to impress.”

“Well, thank you, Carter.”

“Katar.”

The Atom glanced at Steel but the taller man simply shrugged.

They were all three standing in what Ray Palmer called a ‘Node’. A shrunken, scientific laboratory, one of dozens scattered around the globe used for conducting various experiments based on the locale, they were standing in the one positioned on his desk at S.T.A.R. Labs, Ivytown. Palmer had been a Professor at Ivy University until contact with a fragment of Dwarf Star radiation altered his physiology and changed his life forever, though not necessarily for the better.

He had become the costumed crime-fighter, the Atom, able to reduce his size and mass to sub-atomic levels. He had had many adventures with the League as well as his good friend Carter Hall over the years, but eventually those had taken their toll. The final indignity had come when he had been regressed to the age of a teenager. Thank god that hell was over with.

But he had lost his job, his tenure, the respect of his peers and the love of his life in the process. He was thankful that he and Jean Loring had remained friends at
least.

“It’s rather simple really,” he continued as the two men followed him about the lab. “I’ve shrunken down dozens of these Nodes and set them up around the world. All connected via a dedicated T-One line, basically an open Network.

"Simply tap in the coordinates and you are instantly transported to whichever lab you want to visit. I could easily donate or create the same for the League to house their new headquarters.”

“I would love access to your labs, Ray,” Steel said as his gaze followed the latticework of the Network on the monitor screen.

“Of course. I can easily add you into the security protocol.”

“How did you fund all this, Ray?” Hawkman asked looking dubious. “Last I heard you were bankrupt, but the areas you’ve shown us all seem well-endowed and fully equipped.”

“I… sold a couple patents,” Palmer replied hesitantly.

“None that will come back to bite us in the ass if we agree, I hope.”

“Of course not,” Palmer said sounding not too sure. He had not parted with the information of the White Dwarf radiation per se, but he had sold his ideas that had derived from that information; the ability to reduce the size and mass of constructs for one. The Canadian government had paid well for that.

“And what about security?” Hall asked with a scowl as he watched Irons sifting through the Network. “Should we be worried that some maniacal despot from the Microverse will come battering down our doors? We’ve had plenty of misadventures in Sub-atomica that leave me leery.”

“Not at all… Katar.” The Atom moved over to one of the computer consoles and typed rapidly on the keyboard, bringing up a schematic of his Nodes in relation to various levels of dimension. His mind wandered however, surprised at his friend’s allusions to the past life of adventuring that they had shared.

“I’ve reduced the Nodes to a point between microscopic and sub-atomic. Anything from the Microverse would need the same technologies that I have to grow to a point that they would be a threat beyond a gnat.”

“Which is not unheard of, Ray.”

“Well, one figures that beyond my own security, the League would be implementing their own measures. The Thanagarians are known for their militaristic views. I’m quite sure you have a security Web to put me to shame, Katar.”

The Hawkman glared at the Atom but said nothing more.

“Well, I for one will give my blessing,” Steel chimed in breaking the tension.

“Of course the final decision goes to Superman, Bats and J’onn. I think at the very least we should incorporate your Labs.”

“Agreed,” Hawkman said as he strode towards the transport station. “As the main staging area however, I have my reservations. “I’ll submit an unbiased report though, Ray.”

“Thank you, Katar.”

Ray Palmer shook John Henry Iron’s hand but Katar Hall simply stepped to the transport spot and folded his muscular arms across his massive chest. With a sigh, the Atom typed in the coordinates that would send his allies back to the 'Real World’ and watched as a second later they were ‘sucked’ into the T- One Line, vanishing.

Shaking his head, wondering what had happened to his friend, Ray Palmer touched the button that severed the connection shutting off his Node…

The Still Zone…

The Martian Manhunter’s eyes glistened as twin beams of translucent energy shot out striking the huge couplings of Depleted Promethium. The force of the Martian’s Presser Vision molded the super-dense metal with amazing ease, sealing the couplings far stronger than any job of welding might accomplish. Satisfied, the last Green Martian shifted his gaze to the next continuing along the station’s frame.

It was less than an hour when the ghostly form of J’onn J’onzz floated back into the eerie silence of the Still Zone to survey his work. The station was nearly complete; merely some minor, esoteric changes and improvements that had been thought of after the initial design had been laid out. Case in point: the Solar Sails. The station would be powered primarily by the matter/anti-matter core set deep in the bowels of the structure and shielded within Stellarium, which was virtually indestructible once set to form and calmed atomic reactions. In case of emergency there were a number of back up, reserve generators operating on various forms of power ranging from the lesser electrical dynamos in the secondary engineering station, to the more powerful nuclear generators set up in the tertiary. The final addition had been suggested by Ted Knight at one of the weekly conferences between those involved in the design and construction.

Not surprisingly the elder astronomer Starman had suggested solar power as one of the reserves. Hawkman had scoffed at that, noting the amount of solar radiation that needed to be absorbed and retained to power the complex, but Knight had commented that the final location of the station would leave it free of the filtering of Earth’s protective atmosphere and well exposed to the ambient light of billions of stars.

Probes were created and set of course, to test Knight’s theory, but in the end he had been proven correct. He had also suggested solar sails rather than the standard panels, which would give the station an alternate means of movement. Riding the solar winds would be slow, granted, but the idea was sound and agreed on unanimously. Even Hawkman had come around in the end.

Ready, J’onzz thought, opening his mind and broadcasting telepathically to Michael Holt who was manning the controls inside the station. Holt acknowledged with a count of five as J’onzz floated back and away. J’onzz saw plumes of billowing air escape as the magnetic seals were polarized and the sails began to unfurl.

It was an amazingly graceful sight, beautiful in the quiet as the sails unfolded, stretching towards the light like huge golden flowers. He circled the station on several axis’ watching in wonder but taking note of any malfunctions. It was on his forth circuit that he heard the voice:

J’onzz…

In his mind. He knew the voice well, weak as it was and knew that it was being amplified through tremendous effort of his fellows. J’onn J’onzz almost felt pity, knowing the hell of the Still Zone; the emptiness and loneliness, the isolation that his distant kin must be suffering.

Protex, J’onzz returned. They were all about him he knew. The White Martians along with Kryptonian criminals convicted before that planet’s destruction and other races that had tapped into that dimension of phantoms. He could see them if he wished a simple shift of his Martian vision but he chose to remain ignorant.

How long? Protex’ voice seemed whiny and grating. How long have we suffered, J’onzz?

Little more than a year, J’onzz responded as he watched the sails billow, seeking light of which there was none yet in abundance within the Still Zone.

You lie! Protex squealed. It must be centuries! We have suffered your torture. Free us! We repent!

You lie, J’onzz countered. You wished to conquer a world. You now have eternity to conquer a dimension.

You’re dead, Green! We will win our freedom one day and you and your League and all the monkeys you love and protect will die. Slowly… Agonizingly…

Retract, J’onn J’onzz thought to Michael Holt. All sails deployed to maximum efficiency.

He watched as the sails started to recede back into their housings; folding and finally sealing away again. Throughout he could hear the mad ranting of Protex, cursing, pleading, threatening. He ignored his lost brethren and when the process was finally complete he simply closed his mind once again, relishing the blessed silence of the Still Zone…

NEXT ISSUE:

See the new Headquaters!
Marvel at the assemblage!
Laugh at the witticism!
And share in the wonder as the JLA settles in and chooses a new team...

Who will go? Who will remain?

Join me, Mark Anderson and a cast of dozens (My goal is the main cast and 100 cameos at least) as DC assembles for...

Title pending...