welcome to the justice lounge

Oliver comes out of the longhouse and sees the ruckus happening near the pool. “What the hell’s happening here?" He watches Roy, his hand fisted up in the back of Billy’s shirt as he moves towards the kitchen, where one of the first aid kits is. “ZACH PLEASE DON’T KILL THEM! IT’S NOT THEIR FAULT!" Billy wails as he’s taken to be cleaned, red arm still dripping, trying to fight back tears, “You don’t know that for sure!"

Mia answers. “Nothing Ollie. There are rats Billy… I don’t even know he was looking for them and there was a bunch of red stuff in a hole and he was bit by one of the rats. And me and Zach. Oh! Oh Ollie… Uh. We were in the warehouse and we found this little cabinet that had rat poison in it. But there was also arsenic in it… and metal polish too. I don’t know…"

The colour drains from his face when Mia relates what’s going on. “Where are the rats. Are they still alive?"

"I don’t know didn’t you see my sign on the door? Zach was heading over to the pool with the rat poison probably to kill them."

Oliver doesn’t say anything more. He strides away to the garden laundry and comes past Mia again after a minute, carrying a heavy shovel. Ollie goes down into the pool and all Mia hears is a SLAM and a sick squelch, a tiny squeal. One more SLAM and then no more squeals. Then she hears the long, jarring sound of the shovel scraping along the broken tiles of the pool bottom, and a sick slippery flesh noise.

( over the hill and away )

Clark checks his phone for the third time within the span of three minutes, expectant. Whatever he’s looking for isn’t there, though. He tilts his head, a touch of confusion crossing his face, and pockets the phone once more.

Billy places the plate of stacked toaster waffles on the table. Toaster waffles will have to do, because he isn’t confident enough to mix the batter and use the waffle iron by himself quite yet. It’s different when a parent is standing right there with you and you do it by yourself. Fortunately, he does know how to make bacon in the microwave, and make coffee in the coffee maker. “DAAAAAAAD!" he calls up the stairs, though he could whisper it and he’d hear him, calling him is more fun. “Breakfast is readyyyyy!" He stands proudly by the table, his father’s chair pulled out, the weekend edition of The Daily Planet already ready to read on his Dad’s WayneTech tablet and sitting next to his freshly-poured coffee.

Clark puts aside whatever troubled him and bounds down the staircase, footsteps thudding hard on the wood, a bright smile on his face when he enters the kitchen. “Bacon and waffles! My favorite," he assures Billy as he scruffs the boy’s hair before planting a kiss atop it. He takes a sip of the coffee on the table as he sits and nods his appreciation. “Just the right amount of sugar and cream too."

Billy beams and gives him a hug. The last two…(or was it three?) days, his father’s been the one to make him breakfast every morning. Billy had watched like a hawk, preparing to do this today, and reverse roles. “Happy Father’s Day!" he says as he presents him his card. It’s a drawing of Clark Kent, glasses and all, at his job in front of a computer at the Daily Planet, on one of those days when he has to be there in person. On the desk next to the computer is a mug with the words, “World’s Greatest Dad". The inside says, in Billy’s best penmanship, in pen, "Thanks for bringing home the bacon, and adopting me! The least I could do was cook it for you! Love, your son, Billy."

( choosing bait )

“Etrigan?” J’onn replied. “Sorting out? Yes. Thank you Oliver. I will get back to you. Stay safe on rooftops.”

“Rooftops?” Ollie asked. “What the hell are you ta-”

The Martian Manhunter switched off his communicator and was deep in his own thoughts before Green Arrow could complete his sentence. Etrigan? What did that mean? Not to mention that that he sensed unspoken tension in Oliver’s voice as well. These nightmares of his had been having were getting worse, and J’onn could not shake the feeling that there was more to them than he thought.

J’onn decided to resolve his troubles immediately. He could no longer wait. “Come in Batgirl” he said flipping his communicator back on. “Stephanie, the Monitor Womb is yours. I have an issue I must resolve. Martian Manhunter out.” He turned the comm off again and tossed it on the nearby desk as he walked briskly to his quarters.

Turning off the light to make his meditation session easier, the Martian sat down cross-legged on the floor and closed his eyes. Soon, he was deep in his own memories.

J’onn had dreamt he was Zauriel. And now that he thought back on it, he remembered a grotesque face in the crowd. J’onn had been Superman. But thinking back on it, one of the firefighters wore a crimson robe rather than his gear. In J’onn’s nightmare, he had been Kyle battling an old enemy. But he now remembered that Major Force was wearing a helmet that was out of place, but seemed strangely familiar. And as Oliver, J’onn fell to his death. But remembering it now, he remembered an odd smell present. He had been to Seattle many times but it had never smelled like that. In fact, there was only one place in the universe that smelled like that. And in remembering his most recent dream, his dream of being Jason Blood, J’onn confirmed it. The ruined buildings, the nightmare hell scape he had walked through, was not this planet.

No. But he did recognize it now. On reflection and thought, it became clear. He had not been walking through a post-apocalyptic Earth. He had been walking through Apokolips…

( out of it )

BILLY: *sulks a little*

OLLIE: Sulk all you want, kiddo, sulking’s free.

BILLY: I don’t think it’s helping…

OLLIE: No? Howcome?

BILLY: *glumly rests his chin on his hand* I don’t feel any better.

OLLIE: So what would make you feel better?

BILLY: *blinks* I dunno…I guess if people weren’t so worried all the time about me getting hurt when I’m Captain Marvel. I wish they had the same faith in me that they seem to have in Damian, or Superboy.

OLLIE: What people are these?

BILLY: My parents, mostly. But…I guess people in the League, too.

OLLIE: Really?

BILLY: You don’t believe me?

OLLIE: *shrugs* I haven’t heard anybody say anything like that. But that’s me.

( while i'm in between )

“Plastic Man!” J’onn shouted. “You are getting too close to the fight! The power from those two beings are enough to wipe you from existence. Back away now.”

The Martian punched another button. “Huntress! Argent!” he shouted, his voice ragged. “Get those civilians to safety! We can clear rubble later.” J’onn turned back over his shoulder. “Zauriel. Was Blue Beetle able to put that fire out?”

“Yes!” the Angel answered. “Booster Gold is assisting him now! They seem to be working well together, all things considered.”

“We will make time for social hour later” J’onn said. “Right now, find someone to subdue those looters and get them out of the danger zone.”

“On it!” Zauriel shouted and turned back to his screen.

( straight from the monitor womb )

J’onn J’onzz had seen many adventures in his life, taken on many tasks, many challenges. His travels had taken him all the galaxy and beyond. J’onn had made many friends… and lost much through his years - some would say too much to keep doing what he was doing.

And that was exactly what he was contemplating as he served his shift on Monitor Duty. The Martian Manhunter was splitting his attention. He was keeping up with Aquaman’s actions in the South Pacific while watching Power Girl and Plastic Man wrap up an attempted kidnapping in Hong Kong. But those actions were merely in the back of his mind. His most active thoughts, his most compelling thoughts were of his future. J’onn, after all his years of service, after all his years of teamwork, after all he had given to both his native Mars and his adopted home world Earth, was thinking of retirement. He was thinking of giving it all up, walking away. He certainly deserved it. He had certainly earned his rest, his reward.

But leaving the League is not an easy decision to make - and he did not want to make it rashly. So while he considered his, wait, excuse me. “Plastic Man, you need only turn the kidnappers over to the local authorities now. Any extra humiliation of them is unnecessary. Please return the gentleman’s pants. Power Girl can handle speaking to the local police.” So while he considered his options, J’onn was hoping to speak to another teammate - maybe a long time member, maybe a new and still idealistic member, it made no difference. He just needed someone to listen to him, to assure him that he was making the right decision…

( and it will be )

A soft knock at his apartment door momentarily drew Dick’s attention away from the grief building inside of him. Looking through the peep hole, he saw a young woman standing there, biting her lower lip and looking overly troubled for just a simple friendly visit or a sales pitch. She was blonde, mid-twenties, and fit. Her clothes were nice enough; she was not poor. But as she looked around and waited for Dick to answer the door, her eyes betrayed her youth. They were pools of despair, of fear, or worry. This girl was in trouble. She needed help and she had clearly come looking for it at his door.

But Dick had his own troubles, his own pile of woes to keep him occupied. He wasn’t sure if getting involved with someone else’s problems was the smartest thing to do. He wasn’t even one hundred percent sure that he could be any help to anyone in the state he was in right now. But the spirit of service to others instilled by his parents could never be ignored. His years of training at Bruce’s side were not so easily put aside. His willingness to take charge, so honed during his years with the Titans, was too much a part of who he now was. He was a hero, through and through. And here was someone that clearly needed his help. Helping was what heroes did. And if all of that were not enough to prod him into action, he always had the thought of never wanting to disappoint Alfred.

The blonde was about to knock again when Dick opened up and said, “Hi. Can I help you?”

( surfacing )

The Government of Canada has a solitary person in their employ whose only job description is to travel the world, personally inspecting the condition of war grave sites of Canadian servicemen buried abroad, and arranging for their repair or upkeep. In his time, Matthew Baker had found burial grounds in every condition: from occupation by squatters to weeds growing out of control, from moss obscuring the markers to filth or garbage being dumped, and from minor lack of maintenance to outright desecration.

In all the 22 years Mr. Baker had been working at this unique job, never once did he have to inspect a Canadian war grave site in The Netherlands. Such was their respect and honour of the WWII soldiers who emancipated their country from the Nazis, that even during the worst droughts, the grass grew green and flowers bloomed atop graves whose headstones bore the maple leaf.

The bolt hit the Groesbeek Canadian War Cemetery from out of a cloudless sky, and within minutes, these servicemen who died on Dutch soil now walked it again, their uniforms still recognizable. Even many of their regimental identifiers were legible. Hundreds upon hundreds of soldiers and airmen of every rank crawled up out of the ground, and began to move towards the main entry gate.

( do not go softly )

ALERT: Team Deployment [Kansas]
LEAGUE MEMBERS: Batgirl, Black Bat, Captain Marvel, Green Lantern Stewart

Report immediately to Entromaize Farm in Hutchinson, Kansas. Eden Corps has targeted this enormous corporate farm with a crop mutating infection. Cattle from the stockyard five miles out from the Entromaize acreage that have consumed this corn were driven mad and have become violent. A small group of mercenaries numbering no more than four has been hired by the EC to deal with any JLA members.

Civilians are being evacuated from the area by local law enforcement, but be aware that one neighbouring family farm has not been accounted for: [names of a family and workforce of eight, along with photo identification]

Non-civilian assistance will be provided by Jason Blood and/or the Demon Etrigan.

Mission priority is to ascertain that there are no more civilians in the area, then destroy the tainted crops to prevent cattle and any other nearby animals from consuming it. Team must also destroy or cure infected livestock. Deal with mercenary group as required.

Containment of the infected corn and diseased animals is crucial; the neighbouring town of Smallville could easily have its family farms decimated from this if the plague spreads.

Keep comms open to dedicated frequency EC130.6 at all times.

- Green Arrow

---

The fields of Entromaize were, on a normal day, perfectly manicured and maintained, a picture of the bounty that could be brought about with careful genetic modification of feed crops. For the past week, however, even the big pest-resistant ears have seemed more fat than usual, almost bursting from their husks.

What they didn’t know was that members of the Eden Corps had infected the corn with a modified fungus they called “Ground Up”, designed to target only this strain of GMO maize. It made the corn grow at an accelerated rate. Farm workers were instructed to say nothing about this phenomenon, as their higher-ups rubbed their hands in glee at the anticipation of even bigger profits.

Until.

( in this heartland )

[TXT:] hi batman! can i meet w/ u?

[TXT:] it’s about 2face

[Text] Sprang Bridge.

[Text] Half an hour.

24 minutes later…

The area was familiar to Captain Marvel, and he settled lightly atop one of the spires of the easternmost bridge spanning the Sprang River. From here he could see the Royal Chelsea hotel, a small and noble building in its day, now a run-down brick husk with a dilapidated façade. Still it had quite a lot of character, and the roof didn’t leak…at least, not in his room.

Knowing Batman, he was probably already here. Cap searched the length of the bridge for any sign, but realized shortly that if Batman wanted to be seen, he would already be visible. If he waited, the Caped Crusader would make his presence known soon enough.

He was at a rooftop overlooking the bridge from the east side, near where Captain Marvel was floating.

‘Captain. To your left,’ he said through the radio.

( rendezvous )