Justice League

by Michael Jan Friedman

  To underline his point, he held out a cylindrical device about the size of a personal computer. It was made of what looked like black plastic, with twisted batches of red and blue cable running along its flanks.

  “Looks mean,” said the Flash. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know,” said Superman.

  “But Luthor did,” said John Stewart, alighting in their midst. “And I’ll bet he had plans for it.”

  “Till we threw a monkey wrench in them,” Flash noted.

  “Well,” said Wonder Woman as she and Hawkgirl came out of another receding patch of darkness, “at least we can be thankful for that.”

  J’onn knew she was right—he should have been thankful. But he also knew that Luthor wasn’t one to accept defeat gracefully. One way or another, he would come after his objective again.

  And when he did, the League would have to be ready for him.

  Edna Von Stott, the director of Sirius Laboratories, was a small-boned woman in a white lab coat, with gray hair gathered into a knot at the back of her head.

  J’onn didn’t understand humans very well, as his experience in the Manojlovich Theater had proven. However, there was no mistaking Von Stott’s gratitude.

  “If you hadn’t shown up,” she told the six members of the Justice League standing in her office, “we would have lost the neural wave neutralizer.”

  The black, cable-covered neutralizer, which Superman had shown his teammates earlier, was sitting on a metal gurney next to Von Stott’s desk. As the director had explained it, the device was designed to wipe an enemy’s mind clean.

  J’onn, who knew the wonder of the human mind as well as anyone, was appalled that the government had supported such research. At least it had stopped short of putting the neutralizer into production, leaving the prototype before them the only one of its kind.

  “I can’t thank you enough,” Von Stott added.

  “Actually,” said Green Lantern, “you can—by entrusting us with the neutralizer from this point on.”

  The director looked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

  It was something the team had discussed before they arrived in Von Stott’s office. “I’m afraid,” said Superman, “that the device is too dangerous to leave here at Sirius.”

  “Yeah,” said the Flash, “we’ve already seen that Luthor can break in any time he wants.”

  Von Stott frowned as she considered the comment. “Exactly what did you have in mind?”

  “We’ll store it in our Watchtower,” said Wonder Woman. “It’s more secure than any facility on Earth.”

  “More importantly,” said J’onn, “Luthor won’t know we’re taking the neutralizer there.” All he would know for certain was that they wouldn’t leave it at Sirius.

  Von Stott’s frown deepened. Finally, she nodded. “I’ve never seen your Watchtower,” she said, “but I’m willing to take your word that it’s a better option.”

  “The place is state of the art and then some,” said Hawkgirl, “designed by Batman himself.”

  As it happened, the Gotham Gladiator was the only absent member of the team. But that wasn’t unusual. Batman often had his hands full elsewhere.

  “I’ll see to the arrangements,” said J’onn, who was already considering where to stow the neutralizer in the cavernous Watchtower.

  As Superman picked up the device, Flash put his arm around Von Stott. “Hey,” he said in what was no doubt meant to be a reassuring tone, “don’t sweat a thing, okay? I mean, what could possibly go wrong?”

  The Man of Steel shot his teammate a discouraging glance. Then he departed Von Stott’s office, J’onn and the others filing out after him.

  Luthor sat back from his computer screen, where an image of the Justice League and a smallish woman in a white coat was displayed, and congratulated himself for hacking into Sirius Labs’ internal surveillance system.

  But then, he had had an unfair advantage. After all, Sirius had purchased the system from a LexCorp subsidiary several months earlier.

  “Their Watchtower,” he said. “That makes it a bit more difficult.” He glanced over his shoulder at his four lackeys. “But not by much.”

  Shade frowned behind his black glasses. “We can’t get in the same way we did last time, Luthor. If I know the Justice League, they’ve already closed that loophole.”

  “There are other ways,” Star Sapphire said confidently. “It’s just a matter of finding one.”

  “Then Grundy will smash their place,” said the pale-skinned monster.

  Copperhead chuckled. “Yes,” he said with a hint of mockery in his voice, “then Grundy will smash.”

  Grundy looked at him, his tiny dark eyes peering out from under his massive brow. “Copperhead?”

  Copperhead looked up at him. “Yes?”

  “Shut up,” said Grundy. “Or Grundy smash you first.”

  Copperhead grinned, his lips pulling back to expose his fangs. “I’d like to see you try.”

  “That’s enough,” said Luthor, his voice cracking like a whip. “We’ve got work to do.”

  As J’onn flew into the Watchtower’s monitor room, he saw Hawkgirl sitting in front of the League’s giant surveillance screen. Or rather, he saw her great gray wings splayed out behind her, all but concealing her yellow, red, and green Thanagarian police uniform.

  Back on her home world, Hawkgirl had been a detective of sorts. Her experience showed in the seriousness of her approach to monitor duty.

  The Flash, for instance, was known to snack, listen to music, and do crosswords when he was watching the monitor. But not Hawkgirl. She was all business.

  Alighting beside her, J’onn saw the image on the giant screen change automatically, displaying another of Earth’s major cities. This one was on a bay, surrounded by rising hills.

  Tokyo, he told himself, and not without a hint of pride. Though he wasn’t a native of Earth, he had learned to identify all of the planet’s largest population centers by sight.

  Fortunately, all seemed to be running smoothly in Japan’s capital city. There was no sign of the sort of trouble that would require the services of the League.

  Hawkgirl glanced at him. “Is it time already?”

  “I’m afraid so,” said J’onn, knowing how much his teammate enjoyed her turn at the monitor.

  Sighing, Hawkgirl got up and stepped aside for him. “You know, it’s true what they say on Earth. Time really does fly when you’re having fun.”

  Like J’onn, the Winged Avenger was a recent arrival on Earth. But unlike him, she seemed to have become rather comfortable with her adopted planet.

  Perhaps her appearance had something to do with it. Without her wings, her uniform, and her energy mace, she could easily have passed for a human.

  “Well,” said Hawkgirl, “she’s all yours, J’onn. I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

  “Thank you,” he said. Then he sat down and turned his attention to the surveillance screen, which had already switched to a view of Rio de Janeiro.

  No problems there either, as far as J’onn could tell. Nothing at all out of the ordinary.

  Next came Mexico City, Moscow, and Sydney, one after the other in a seemingly random but strategically arranged order. J’onn saw nothing of concern in any of those places. Then the image on the screen changed again—to Metropolis.

  And that, he observed, was a different matter entirely.

  Though it was after midnight in Metropolis, there wasn’t a single light on in the entire city. In fact, if not for a full moon bathing Metropolis in its pale blue glow, J’onn wouldn’t have known there was a city there at all.

  We have a situation, he told his teammates telepathically, not even bothering to resort to their comm devices.

  In a matter of seconds, the League had gathered around J’onn and was studying the giant screen. None of them was happy to see the city blacked out like that, but Superman was the least happy of all.

  Metropolis was his city, the one in
which he had carried out his first public exploits. It was the place where he lived and worked, the place with which he was most closely associated. When someone attacked Metropolis, they attacked him as well.

  “What’s going on?” asked the Flash.

  “We don’t know yet,” Superman said, muscles rippling along his jaw.

  Before the Man of Steel had finished getting the words out, a red light started blinking on J’onn’s console. It was a signal that one of their teammates was trying to contact them.

  With all but one of them present in the Watchtower, the caller’s identity was rather obvious. Batman, thought J’onn. And he doubted that the timing of the call was a coincidence.

  After all, the Dark Knight had his own sophisticated surveillance setup. Whatever was happening in Metropolis, he must have noticed it too.

  J’onn brought up Batman’s image on the monitor screen. “We’re listening,” he said.

  “I’ve isolated Metropolis’s problem,” Batman told them.

  Superman planted his hand on the back of J’onn’s chair. “What is it?”

  “Luthor and his gang have knocked out the city’s power grid,” said Batman. “Traffic signals are out. Train signals too. Even the air traffic system is crippled.”

  “If the city’s power is out,” said Wonder Woman, “it will be a problem for the elderly and the infirm.”

  “Hospitals should be okay,” Flash observed. “They’ve got backup systems, right?”

  “Right,” said Green Lantern. “But what about all those office buildings? Not everybody’s going to be able to walk down fifty flights of stairs.”

  “How do you know it was Luthor?” asked Hawkgirl.

  “I’ve got television footage,” Batman told her. “He didn’t even bother to knock out any of the cameras.”

  Wonder Woman frowned. “Arrogant, isn’t he?”

  “It’s as if he wanted us to know who did it,” said Green Lantern. “So he could rub it in our faces.”

  Superman’s mouth tightened into a thin white line. “It’s going to be chaos down there—more than the city’s police force can handle.”

  “So what are we waiting for?” asked Hawkgirl.

  “Yeah,” said the Flash, “let’s boogie!”

  They all started in the direction of the exit—until Wonder Woman stopped them. “Wait a second,” she said. “What about the neutralizer? We can’t just leave it here unguarded.”

  “That’s right,” said Green Lantern. “Someone should stay behind in the Watchtower—just in case.”

  J’onn saw that none of the others was eager to do so—not when they all felt needed in Metropolis. J’onn felt needed there too. But if someone had to stay in the Watchtower, he was clearly the best choice.

  After all, he lived there. He knew the place intimately. If anything went wrong, he would be in the best position to take care of it.

  “I’ll stay,” he said.

  “Works for me,” said Flash, already a blur of red and yellow as he left the room.

  “We’ll keep you posted,” Superman promised J’onn.

  Then he, Green Lantern, and Hawkgirl arrowed through the air after the speedster.

  Wonder Woman smiled gratefully at J’onn. Then she followed the others to the shuttle bay.

  J’onn turned to the image of Batman on the screen. “As you can see,” he said, “they’re leaving for Metropolis.”

  “So am I,” said the Dark Knight, never one to waste words. Then he signed off, leaving his Martian colleague all alone in the immense, echoing orbital facility.

  J’onn sighed. Earlier that day, he had sought a respite from the company of his teammates. Now he had all the solitude he might have wanted.

  He wasn’t complaining. It was hardly the first time he had been on his own in the Watchtower. But he wouldn’t have minded if just one of his teammates had remained there with him, to help him pass the time.

  On the other hand, J’onn wanted to help the League in whatever way he could. And he would do that—even if it meant sitting in the Watchtower on perpetual monitor duty while his teammates did all the work.

  Lex Luthor smiled from the airtight bubble of hard light in which Star Sapphire had enclosed the Injustice Gang.

  The League’s Watchtower was a beautiful sight as it hung there in space like a colossal, high-tech top, sunlight gleaming on its metal hide. A beautiful sight indeed.

  And even more beautiful, Luthor thought as he and his underlings ascended through the void, was the prize that awaited him inside.

  Of course, the Watchtower had been equipped with all kinds of security systems, the majority of them designed by Batman himself. But Luthor and his lackeys had invaded the place before. With all the assorted talents at their fingertips, it couldn’t be that difficult to pull the trick a second time.

  “Are we there yet?” Grundy asked for what must have been the sixteenth time.

  “Not much longer,” said Luthor, knowing that any more detailed information would have been wasted on the giant anyway.

  The first time the Injustice Gang had penetrated the League’s sanctum, they had done it by capturing Batman, prying open his Utility Belt, and extracting his remote control for the Watchtower’s shuttle-bay doors.

  Unfortunately, Luthor didn’t have a remote control this time. However, he did have the benefit of experience.

  He had scanned the inside of the Watchtower and seen the way it was put together. He had made a record of the kinds of technology it employed.

  Batman wouldn’t have left the station’s security systems as they were after Luthor had gotten a look at them. He would have torn them out and replaced them with new ones.

  But he couldn’t change the basic structure of the Watchtower—not without dismantling it and starting from scratch. And that was where Luthor had him.

  J’onn frowned and cleared his throat. Then he read the text on the computer screen in his quarters out loud.

  “The play’s the thing,” he said, “wherein I’ll catch the conscience of the king.”

  It was a quote from a drama called Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. The human who wrote it was named William Shakespeare.

  Though Shakespeare had lived and died hundreds of years earlier, his name figured prominently on the Internet’s lists of great playwrights. And Hamlet was apparently considered one of his greatest works.

  Which was why J’onn had decided to investigate it. After all, Wonder Woman had been kind enough to make him her guest at the theater. The least he could do was try to figure out why humans thought so much of the experience.

  Hamlet, it seemed to him, was a statement about mourning. And revenge. And the tension between love and hatred.

  After losing his wife and daughter on Mars, J’onn understood mourning all too well. And he had seen villains on Earth consumed by the need for revenge.

  As for the tension between love and hatred... he hadn’t experienced anything like that personally. However, he understood how such a feeling could come about.

  All in all, he believed he understood Shakespeare, and Hamlet as well. In fact, he seemed to have more in common with them than he did with twenty-first-century Earthmen.

  However, if J’onn had understood Wonder Woman correctly, drama wasn’t meant to be read from a computer screen. It was meant to be performed on a stage. And with that aspect of it, he still had a problem.

  “The play’s the thing,” he repeated, hoping it would give him some additional insight. But it didn’t.

  And in case he wasn’t confused enough, Hamlet contained a wrinkle J’onn hadn’t even considered: a play within a play. For reasons that escaped him entirely, Shakespeare was asking his actors to pretend they were . . . well, actors.

  But not themselves. Different actors.

  J’onn leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and massaged his oversized brow. It was all starting to give him a large and rather oppressive headache.

  Opening his eyes again, he reached for his
keyboard to close the Hamlet file and turn to something he could more easily understand—like a report on quantum mechanics.

  But before J’onn could punch in the command, he saw that a blue light was flashing next to his keyboard. Instantly, he was upright and alert.

  A flashing blue light indicated that something was approaching the Watchtower—something that hadn’t been cleared to do so. Tapping the necessary keys, J’onn called up a visual image of the offending object.

  And felt his heart sink.

  It was a translucent purple globe composed completely of energy. And it contained five figures, all of whom looked painfully familiar to him.

  J’onn called off their names in his mind. Luthor. Star Sapphire. Shade. Grundy. And Copperhead.

  They had come a long way from Earth’s surface, and he knew why they had made the trip. They wanted the neural wave neutralizer, and they weren’t going to stop at anything to get it.

  What was more, they were leaving Earth behind at a rapid pace. At the rate they were traveling, they would reach the Watchtower in a scant few minutes.

  This isn’t good, J’onn told himself as he stared at the image of the approaching globe. This isn’t good at all.

  Luthor’s gang was a collection of the most powerful criminals on the face of the Earth. Even if the entire Justice League had been waiting for them in the Watchtower, they would have had their hands full.

  But the League was elsewhere—addressing a problem that now seemed less like a coincidence than part of a crafty, prearranged scheme. Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman . . . they were too far away to be of any use.

  Only J’onn stood between the Injustice Gang and the prize they had come to claim. And by himself, he couldn’t possibly hope to stop them.

  Or could he . . . ?

  He looked again at the screen, where the script to Hamlet was still visible. The play’s the thing, he told himself. The play’s the thing.

  And he got the faintest glimmer of an idea.

  “Right there!” Luthor barked.

  He pointed to a spot where two of the Watchtower’s inch-thick titanium plates came together. The line between them wasn’t visible to the naked eye at that distance, but Luthor knew it was there. His interior scans of the place had made it pretty clear.