Justice League_Wings of War

by Michael Jan Friedman

  In fact, it appeared to J’onn that they were avoiding the issue on purpose.

  Finally, he had to pose the question that had been plaguing him not just for the last twenty-seven minutes, but ever since he had learned about the prospect of these peace talks.

  And because none of his teammates were present in the room with him, the Martian confessed his confusion to the two who were stationed just outside the World Assembly building—one of them patrolling the streets and the other patrolling the skies.

  “I don’t understand,” J’onn said over his Justice League comm link.

  “Don’t understand what ?” came Green Lantern’s response.

  “All this hostility,” said the Martian. “Both nations are part of the same human species. Why are they so antagonistic toward one another?”

  The Flash chuckled as he sped around the block at lightning speed, keeping an eye open for Bane and other troublemakers. “If we could answer that,” he said, “we’d be up for the Nobel Peace Prize.”

  “You give out prizes for those who support peace?” J’onn questioned.

  “Well,” said the Flash, “yeah. Didn’t you have anything like that on Mars?”

  The Manhunter shook his head in amazement. “All my people acted peacefully. Had our leaders given out prizes for such behavior, they would have been compelled to give them to everyone.”

  The Scarlet Speedster seemed to think about J’onn’s remark for a moment. “So,” he said at last, “does that mean that Earth people are unusually violent? Or that Martians are unusually nonviolent?”

  Green Lantern, who had patrolled more planets than he could easily count, was the only one in a position to answer that.

  “Let me put it this way,” he told them. “If every planet in the galaxy were as peaceful as Mars, the Guardians wouldn’t have given me this ring.”

  J’onn was about to continue the conversation when he realized the negotiations were finally beginning in earnest. President Gorinski of Luristan had leaned forward in his chair and begun speaking.

  “Historically,” said Gorinski, “my people have held fast to their belief that the Chemeltekov Valley is ours and ours alone, and has been since ancient times.”

  Premier Melnikov remained silent while Gorinski was speaking. However, the rippling of muscles in his jaw suggested that he was doing so with great difficulty.

  “Some of my advisors would have me take a hard line on the Chemeltekov question today as well,” said Gorinski. He cast a sidelong glance at General Sikander. “And in truth, I believe the valley is part of Luristan.”

  The comment prompted some murmuring among the Kaznians. Melnikov silenced it with a gesture.

  “Nonetheless,” Gorinski went on, “we are willing to offer Kaznia a compromise. We will concede them the portion of the valley that sits beneath the forty-ninth line of latitude. You will note that that is slightly more than half of the disputed territory.”

  “But,” said Melnikov, “it is also downstream of the portion you hope to control. Therefore, only Luristan will be able to make use of the river for the purpose of generating hydroelectric power.”

  “We can set up a schedule,” Gorinski suggested. “One week we use the river for power, the next you use it. It will be a simple thing to coordinate.”

  “Indeed,” Melnikov replied. “But it will only work as long as Luristan is inclined to cooperate with her neighbors in Kaznia. What happens when your people elect a president less conciliatory than yourself ? What happens to our hydroelectric power then?”

  Gorinski shrugged. “I am willing to sign an agreement here, witnessed by the members of the World Assembly, that stipulates Kaznia will receive her fair share of power—no matter who is in office.”

  Melnikov frowned. Obviously, he wasn’t satisfied with that form of security. “There is an expression here in the West, ‘Possession is nine-tenths of the law.’ From what I have seen, that sentiment holds true in matters of international law as well.”

  Gorinski heaved a sigh. “And what sort of compromise do you propose?”

  “I did not attend this meeting to offer compromises,” the Kaznian said, his tone free of rancor but unyielding. “I am here for one reason and one reason only—to impress upon you the legitimacy of our claim.”

  “You will never do that,” Gorinski told him, a note of impatience creeping into his voice. “Your claim has no legitimacy.”

  Melnikov made a soft clucking sound. “We will never get anywhere if that is your attitude.”

  “My attitude?” said the Luristanian. “I was the one willing to make a concession.”

  The Kaznian smiled a humorless smile. “You may call it a concession, Mr. President. But we both know it could never have worked.”

  “I know no such thing,” Gorinski insisted, his face reddening with indignation. “That offer was made in good faith.”

  Melnikov remained calm and measured, despite the confrontational nature of his remarks. “In Kaznia, we have a different definition of ‘good faith.’”

  Gorinski’s eyes narrowed. “I can see we are wasting our time here.”

  On the other side of the table, Melnikov shrugged. “Then you and I agree on one thing, at least. Perhaps we should continue this another time.”

  With that he got up, leaned on his cane, and left by the door J’onn was guarding, the rest of his delegation following him. A moment later they were all gone, leaving Gorinski and Sikander at the negotiating table to exchange expressions of indignation under their breath.

  The Martian heard the Flash’s voice in his ear. “How’s it going in there, amigo?”

  J’onn sighed. “It could be going better. Premier Melnikov just left the room.”

  “You’d better alert the others,” the Flash told him.

  “I will do that,” Martian Manhunter said. But he wished he had better news to report.

  As far as anyone in the vicinity of the World Assembly building was concerned, Batman was a tall, dark-haired man with a mustache and thick glasses, intent on buying a bag of honey-roasted peanuts from a street vendor.

  In reality, he wasn’t intent on the peanuts at all. The master of disguise was busy scrutinizing the sea of people milling around him, looking for some subtle sign of Bane’s handiwork that his teammates might have missed.

  Batman might stand there all day and not find anything—but it wouldn’t stop him from returning the next day. Tired as he was, he had to do everything in his power to keep the peace talks alive—and President Gorinski along with them.

  He was a good deal less worried about Bane attacking Melnikov. After all, members of the Kaznian delegation had assisted in the Armory heist. It hardly seemed likely that Bane would hurt the Kaznian premier.

  Not impossible, of course. Nothing was impossible. But it was certainly unlikely.

  It was funny, Batman thought. When he went out during the day without his costume, he felt every bit as alien as Martian Manhunter. It was only when he wore the cape and cowl and moved in darkness that he felt comfortable in the world.

  He had just paid the vendor for the peanuts when he heard the Martian Manhunter address the League over his comm link. “The meeting is breaking up early,” he said. “Melnikov’s leaving. And I don’t think Gorinski is far behind him.”

  Not a good sign, Batman thought.

  Then he waited for the delegates’ limousines to make their way across town.

  Bane had kept to his hotel room for the last thirtysix hours, getting by on room-service meals and television news reports. Some of those reports had spoken of his heist from the Metropolis Armory, identifying him simply as “an international mercenary.”

  Had the police released his real name, it might have caused a panic among the members of the World Assembly. Hence the vague description.

  But Bane’s next maneuver was to take place in full view of the news cameras. Soon, his masked face would be on every television screen in the United States—making it a lot more diffic
ult for the authorities to keep his identity under wraps.

  Just as Bane thought that, he heard a soft beeping sound from his wristwatch. Touching a button on it, he acknowledged his receipt of the signal.

  It had come from a security guard who worked at the World Assembly—a man who had a spotless record and had never even considered betraying his employers. Then Bane had come along and offered him so much money he couldn’t say no.

  And all the guard had to do was tell Bane when President Gorinski left the World Assembly building to return to his hotel. It was a simple task but a critical one.

  Touching another button on his watch, the mercenary alerted his accomplices across the river that Gorinski was on the move. Then he picked up his mask and stood in front of his room’s mirrored closet.

  With great satisfaction, he pulled the mask over his face. That simple gesture erased all signs of the man he had once been.

  Then he left his penthouse room and ascended a single flight of stairs to a heavy metal door. The door was bolted and locked in order to deny access to the roof to anyone except hotel security.

  But Bane wasn’t concerned. With a few well-placed kicks, he caved the door in. Then he tore it off its hinges with a screech of metal and made his way onto the roof.

  It was windy up there, but not so windy that he needed to postpone his plan. Scanning the eastern sky from his lofty vantage point, Bane saw the emerald figure of Green Lantern hovering dutifully over the World Assembly building.

  The other Justice Leaguers had been posted over other key points in the city. But as Bane watched, they all began gliding in Green Lantern’s direction.

  After all, with Premier Melnikov safely back in his hotel suite for the last hour or so, the president of Luristan had become the League’s top priority. Their only concern now was to make sure Gorinski got back to the Hotel Metropolitan in good condition.

  But in a matter of moments, the situation would change. Bane knew because he was the one who would change it.

  Off to the west the city’s Fleischer Bridge, which had been built nearly eighty years ago, played host to its usual steady stream of motorists. Little did they suspect how soon they would be in deadly danger— the kind only the most powerful members of the Justice League could rescue them from.

  But Bane knew—because he was the one who would place them in that danger. Touching a third button on his watch, he sent out a signal.

  However, this one wasn’t intended for any of his accomplices. It was the subsonic trigger for a series of bombs that Bane’s henchmen had planted on the Fleischer Bridge’s steel supports.

  There was the slightest pause, barely long enough for Bane’s heart to complete a beat. Then the mercenary’s bombs went off in quick succession, like a series of thunderclaps shattering the sky over the city, and the elderly bridge began to sag.

  Suddenly, the flying figures of the Justice League changed course and headed for the scene of the calamity. And though Bane couldn’t see the Flash, he had a feeling the speedster was headed for the bridge as well.

  That left only one obstacle to the mercenary’s plan—Batman. But it seemed unlikely that the detective would be tracking Gorinski when Batman’s teammates were already on the case.

  As Bane thought that, he heard a whirring sound in the distance and looked to the west. A black shape was making its way among Metropolis’s skyscrapers and looming larger by the moment.

  It was a helicopter—and it was right on time.

  When it reached the building the mercenary was standing on, it stopped and lowered a rope ladder to him. Bane grabbed it in both hands and climbed as high as the ladder’s lowest rung. Then he signaled to the pilot and felt himself sail out over the deep valleys of the Metropolis skyline.

  In a matter of seconds, Bane had caught sight of Gorinski’s car. Its police escort made it easy to spot. Signaling to the pilot a second time, the mercenary had him descend in the direction of their target.

  At the last second, the pilot pulled up. That was when Bane leapt free of the rope ladder and plummeted toward Gorinski’s limousine.

  The mercenary landed on the roof of the car with both feet. His weight and the height from which he had dropped made for a considerable impact—one that crunched the painted metal around his feet.

  Bane shook his head. Car roofs weren’t made very sturdy these days—even the roofs on bulletproof limousines. And as if to prove his point more conclusively, he dug his fingers under the front edge of the roof and pulled back on it with his great strength.

  For a moment, the reinforced metal resisted him. Then he hauled a little harder and it peeled back like the top of a sardine can, exposing the limo’s occupants.

  There were four of them—an older man and a trio of younger ones. Judging by the guns in their hands, the younger ones were bodyguards.

  Bane would have to deal with them, but they weren’t the reason he had gone to all this trouble. His objective was the older man.

  The one named Gorinski.

  Ducking behind the raised piece of roof, he allowed the bodyguards to spend some of their ammunition. Then he did the last thing they would have expected—he leapt over the curl of metal and landed right in their midst.

  They couldn’t fire then—or they might shoot the very man they were trying to protect. That gave Bane the advantage, and he wasn’t slow to capitalize on it.

  A quick jab with his elbow and one man was knocked unconscious. A savage kick and another man was rendered useless as well. A short but devastating punch and the third bodyguard went limp.

  That left only Bane and the older man. Bane grinned at Gorinski, enjoying the grimace of terror on his face. “Going up,” he growled.

  Then he grabbed the man by the front of his suit, pulled him up onto the car roof, and signaled to his men in the helicopter above. A moment later, the end of the rope ladder dropped into Bane’s free hand. And a moment after that, he and his newly acquired burden were being drawn toward the cabin of the chopper.

  Gorinski’s police escort didn’t dare fire at the mercenary for fear of hitting the president. Bane had predicted that. But just in case, he had his underlings in the helicopter peppering the cops with a steady spray of machine-gun fire to cover their escape.

  The mercenary looked around as he ascended. There wasn’t a super hero in sight. Well done, he told himself.

  A moment later, his men pulled him and Gorinski into the helicopter. Then, their prize secured, they wheeled westward and made good their escape.

  Hawkgirl wasn’t the only member of the League who knew that the calamity at the Fleischer Bridge was a decoy. However, that didn’t mean they could afford to ignore it.

  Superman and Wonder Woman moved to reinforce the bridge’s trembling supports, which had been severely damaged by what appeared to be a series of bomb blasts, while Green Lantern bolstered the sagging roadway with a beam from his ring.

  But they could only keep that up for so long. Someone had to evacuate the people trapped on the bridge—and that task logically fell to Hawkgirl, the Flash, and Martian Manhunter.

  The speedster wove through the maze of cars and carried motorist after frightened motorist to safety, while Hawkgirl and the Martian conducted an airlift operation. But it frustrated the Thanagarian that her part in the rescue effort was so insignificant. If she had been Superman, Wonder Woman, or Green Lantern, she could have pulled off an entire busload at a time.

  And it frustrated her even more when she saw a suspicious-looking helicopter break free from downtown Metropolis and go darting westward over the river.

  But she couldn’t abandon the people on the bridge. She continued to pluck them up and deposit them on the near shoreline.

  Then Superman’s voice rasped in her ear. “Hawkgirl, go after that helicopter!”

  She looked down at him. He was still shoring up one of the bridge’s supports with his amazing strength, refusing to give in until the last motorist was safe.

  But that time w
asn’t far off. J’onn and the Flash were almost done carrying people to safety. If anyone could be spared, it was Hawkgirl.

  “Go!” Superman repeated.

  Trusting that he knew what he was doing, the Thanagarian soared westward and hoped she wasn’t too late.

  Batman had been too far away from the Fleischer Bridge to help the people caught on it. And he had been too slow to catch up with Bane when he had hauled Boris Gorinski out of his limo.

  But as Batman watched the mercenary’s helicopter recede into the distance, he had vowed that he would get the Luristanian leader back.

  Bane won’t win, the detective had told himself. I won’t allow it.

  Fortunately, he had arranged a way to join his teammates in the air. Punching a quick set of commands into a tiny remote control device, he had summoned the Batwing—his sleek, black, one-man plane—from its hiding place under a Metropolis dock.

  A couple of minutes later, the approach of the batshaped flyer had caused the already frightened people around Batman to scatter. As the Batwing had dropped into its owner’s vicinity, a rope ladder had cascaded from its open cockpit.

  The disguised Dark Knight had grabbed the rope ladder and clambered into the cockpit. Then, with the crime fighter safely aboard, the Batwing had accelerated again in pursuit of Bane.

  Right now, Batman was continuing that pursuit, heading westward over the outskirts of the Metropolis borough called Park Ridge. As he flew, he pulled his cowl and folded-up cape from the lining of his jacket and put them on.

  He didn’t know Bane’s destination. No one did. The mercenary would have been certain to avoid radar by flying low, just as Batman was doing now.

  However, the detective could make some educated guesses. For instance, he didn’t think Bane would have remained in the air any longer than he had to, since it was less risky to transport Gorinski by car.

  Also, the mercenary would have needed to land unseen and to hide his helicopter afterward. That meant a rural area, a place with lots of trees and open fields, and little in the way of human habitation.