FIC: "Necessary Force" Part 3 (JLA) (2nd half)

[paxwolf]

Hoy, all!

So, here's the second half of Part 3 of The Epic - sorry it took a week to work out the kinks and get it posted.  I've been dreadfully sick with cold and fever, and my poor brain and body ached too much to much revising or rushing to the library to get some online time.  Thanks for your patience, my friends!
I'm afraid I shall be having to ask for a little bit more, as it will be at least a week and half before I can possibly post Part 4, as this coming week I've got the dreaded spectre of Report Cards looming over me, due next week.  (and with 224 students to write up, it's a bit daunting!)  But as soon as I get a handle on my RL demands, I'll get back to the wonderful world of makebelieve.  (hmm, that reminds me - it's been a wolf's age since I last visited the WWOMB!  Oughtta reciify that sometime!)  So, please enjoy this installment!

Take care, all, and Happy Hallowe'en this week!

Howling Hallowe'en-Lovin' "Going as a Werewolf" Paxwolf  :-)

JLA "Necessary Force" Part 3: "Stratagem"  (B):

JLA

"Necessary Force"

By Paxwolf

Part III:

"Stratagem"

(concluded)

The Justice League and all associated characters are owned by DC Comics and Time Warner, and nothing other than fun and satisfaction is being earned by the posting of this story.

Thanks, Credits, and other Notes of Interest are posted at the beginning of Parts One and Two.  (and will be every other 'chapter'.)

Author Note:  This was the part that actually began this whole Epic for me.  The very earliest bit I wrote, as a little doodle of sorts on the back of an ad for a ComicCon, was a smattering of corny dialogue still mired in the middle of this very part.  And the rest grew on like a cancer after that.  :-)   Well, it was actually a fun challenge to try and craft a whole story from a single line that was rather a bad pun!    -_^

I'd also played a bit with Kyle's backstory here, as at the time I wrote this, not much had been revealed by TPTB at DC about his family.  I've decided to keep that bit intact for the purposes of this story, but consider that part a little AU if you prefer.  :-)

"Stratagem"

Kyle jerked up with a start, realizing he had zoned out for several moments.

He shook his head hard, and reached to take a gulp of his coffee.  It wouldn't do for anyone to catch him daydreaming during such a crucial conference ofstrategizing , after all. Especially one dealing with this particularly nasty new menace. Fortunately, no one had noticed his brief lapse in attention.  Apparently his mask had more uses than one, thank god.

“I recommend against keeping Luthor apprised at present,” Batman was saying. “We'll feed him some partial facts to keep him and the Pentagon happy, but too much of the plan is reliant upon secrecy. Neither the government nor the UN Security Council are exactly subtle organizations.  We can't afford a leak.”

“Doubtless. We’ll inform the President - and company - of Ayestrom’s location only after we’ve found out what’s what,” Superman nodded back.  "With any luck it'll only be a matter of hours before we confirm what we need to."

Batman's voice was clipped.  "Yes."

“This is a bit scary,” Wally muttered to Kyle out of the side of his mouth.

“What? The whole double-o-seven deal?” Kyle said, trying to appear as if he'd been listening all along.

“No. That Supes and Bats are agreeing with each other so much. It ain't natural.”

“Huh.  Yeah, you're right," Kyle added hastily, seeing the odd look Wally was giving him.  "Usually they're good for a show, right, and we with our front row seats.”

"We oughtta sell tickets sometime.  We'd clean up!"

“Meanwhile,” Diana was continuing, looking at Batman, “perhaps we can further interrogate the man that Dinah apprehended. He might possess additional important information which he has yet to divulge.”  Her eyes narrowed.  "I'm certain he could tell us quite a bit about Ayestrom."

“In that his followers seem unnaturally loyal to their 'lord', but are also - rather incongruently - money-oriented, greedy, and cowardly, we can perhaps turn his own tables against him,” Aquaman remarked with satisfaction, leaning back in his chair.

Kyle suddenly grinned. “It’ll be like that old proverb! An eye for an ‘Aye’.”

“That’s a proverb?” asked Plastic Man. “Heh.  Thought it was a recipe for revenge or somesuch.  Guess I’m a little rusty with my Bible-readin’.”

“It's as good as one. I particularly appreciate the rest of the quotation, as hopefully we shall soon see a tooth or two as well,” Aquaman muttered, clenching his metal fist, the sharp blades of his hook retracting.

"As in ... finally showing our own teeth, or knocking theirs down their throats?" Kyle asked.

Aquaman gave a slow grin, eyes hooded.  "As in both."

“Amen to that,” Flash answered, scowling a little himself as he folded his arms across his chest in a rare gesture of stillness. Kyle glanced at him, a little startled.

“You do realize, of course,” Batman said, gazing measuringly at Superman, “that Ayestrom will no doubt be prepared for likely metahuman interference, particularly League interference. And I reiterate, possibly even for you personally. The majority of people may overlook them, but your enhanced sensory abilities are not exactly the best kept secrets on the planet.”

Superman rested his chin on his knuckles, looking up at the screen with serious eyes.

“I’m aware. It's not like I think this is going to be a walk in the park.  And I understand the irony perfectly."

"Do you?"  There was an unmistakable edge to Batman's voice.

"That it seems to be impossible to infiltrate the base without special abilities, but that those very same abilities make it nigh impossible to not get caught doing so?"  Superman raised his brows.  "Of course.  My senses might get a workout, and they're not foolproof.  But it’s a risk we’ll just have to take. Along, naturally, with every conceivable and sensible precaution."  He stared steadily back at Batman.  "I have no intention of jeopardizing those hostages by unnecessarily jeopardizing myself.” A half-hearted smile flickered briefly over his lips.

Batman studied him, then gave a sharp nod and turned back to the computer.

“I still think that he should have some sort of backup down there,” Diana insisted. “I know, the sensors,” she added when Flash opened his mouth, “but surely we can find a way.  J’onn, with his shape-shifting ability, would still be ideal. It is regrettable that we cannot risk his telepathic link, but he could almost go in as a piece of Kal’s clothing, for Hera’s sake. Or you, Batman.  Stealth is one of your vaunted specialties, is it not?” She looked challengingly at Batman, who turned away from the console to stare moodily at her. “And you, of all of us, would not set off any sensor registers.”

Batman set his jaw, but made no reply.

J’onn’s calm gaze considered Diana, and then settled on Superman. “I wish, as you know, that it were possible to accompany him, Diana. Particularly in his current condition.”

“Exactly. While none of us are in tiptop shape, here he is trying to corner the market on self-sacrifice!”

“No one else stands a better chance.”

“That may well be, but I do not feel that he should proceed on his own in this instance.”

“Kal-El is quite adamant on this plan, with excellent reason, and yet I too have my doubts if he will be able to achieve our goal in his present state."

“Hello,” Superman interrupted. “I am still in the room, you know.”

Kyle muffled a laugh.

“But I could not avoid these sensors that Oracle describes, nor maintain my assumed shape while he is at speed,” J’onn continued, now studiously avoiding looking at Superman. “Besides which, as we agreed, I shall be needed inside the reserve base until the hostages' location is confirmed.” He looked down.

Superman rose and placed a hand on J’onn’s arm, casting a grateful look at Diana.

“And too valuable there. Both of you."  He gave a sudden smile. "And it's not like I'm made of porcelain, you know. The media didn’t nickname me 'The Man of China' for a reason. I’ll be fine.”

“Didn’t never think he looked Asian,” joked Plastic Man. "Though I hear he's got mighty peculiar tastes in martial arts movies, manga, and anime ..."

“And my ‘condition’, by the way,  is back to normal,” Superman added, not even really hearing O’Brian’s weak attempt at humour. “Right as rain, as my Pa would say.”

J'onn said nothing.

“And my accompanying him is out of the question,” Batman noted, also casting a veiled glance at Diana, who sighed. “As we all know why.” He looked back at Superman and straightened. “You will not be alone for long, however. Oracle will remain in constant communiqué, for as long as possible, using our own enhanced technology, which has to be at least marginally better than what the enemy employs."  His gaze swept the table. "And, of course, the League will there in minutes at your call when things get dicey.”

“’When’, he says, not ‘if’,” Kyle said in a stage whisper to Wally. “How I love an optimist.”

“You will have to hold out on your own until then, Superman,” Batman finished.  His glance seemed carefully shuttered.

“And I will,” Superman answered, closing his eyes. “One way or another, with or without backup, this sociopath must be stopped. No more people, no more children, no more anyone will be victimized. No more.” He opened his eyes again, his steely gaze glowing deadly crimson for a split second before softening once more to its normal brilliant blue as he gazed back at his teammates. “I will do … I will risk whatever it takes to bring Ayestrom to justice, and failing that, to bring him down.”

“As say we all,” Diana asserted, voice soft, quietly and strongly executing a warrior’s salute.

The Justice League of America all looked at one another, and nodded in solidarity.

“But hey, guys and gal, what’re we worryin’ on about anyways?” Plastic Man frizzled into the solemn mood. “We’re the infamous J.L. of A., for Pete’s sake! Whomever this proverbial Pete might be. We’re like global Mounties. Sans maple leaf. We always get our man!”

“Not always without casualties, Plastic Man,” Diana said soberly, and Flash nodded, expression suddenly somber, both thinking of Barry and Hal, and Aztek, and Ice, and the many losses the League had suffered over the years.

“Okay, but no, really, why’re we even moanin’ on about Supes’ safety for?” Plas hurtled on as one of his ears enlarged dramatically with a huge earplug stuck in the centre, turning the literally ‘deaf ear’ towards Wonder Woman. “He’s ‘da Man o’ Steel, the Big Red S, the Metropolis Marvel, the Big Blue Boy Scout, the Man of Tomorrow, yadda, yadda, yadda.” Superman sighed and Green Lantern rolled his eyes. “In other words, kinda, maybe, sorta super! Does a tiny little under-appreciated word like, oh, say, ‘invulnerable’ mean nothing any more amongst all this cheese and whine?”

Plastic Man’s limbs coalesced into a truly horrid-sounding violin.

“Just because he’s incredibly dense doesn’t make him completely invincible, Plas!” Wally exclaimed, then stopped short, cheeks reddening as he took in Superman’s raised eyebrow.

“Nice one, motormouth,” Kyle jibed.

"Um, that came out all wrong. I meant his body …”

"Keep digging, you'll reach the dark side of the moon eventually ..."

“The point being,” Arthur ground out, “is that none of us, child or not, JLA or not, Kryptonian or not, is completely safe from this madman. He’s already amply demonstrated his degree of power.  And we are not fighting small fry here."

"That's unfortunately true," said Diana with a small sigh.  "It’s been measured, in fact, right off the P.M. scale.”  She threw a quick look at Superman, whose expression was impassive.

“You just weren’t on the front lines to witness it,” Kyle said bitingly to Plastic Man. “Where were you?”

“I was … doing my part,” Plas hedged, shrinking his limbs back to normal contours.  "Not 'zackly easy, ya know, to manage untold screaming gadgets and quadrillions of frantic 911 phone calls up here on my ownsome when the whole freaking world's going to hell in a handbasket ..."

“Regardless of who was where,” Batman took control of the discussion effortlessly, “the fact remains that Ayestrom and his organization are extremely powerful. We do not dare take them on as individuals. It must be as a whole that we will face him. As a team. And even that,” he added darkly, “may not be enough.”

“And yet we dare do nothing less,” Superman interjected. “Not if there’s any hope of rescuing those kids, their teachers, and the ambassadors. Not to mention safeguarding the Earth from his constant threats and bringing this madman to justice.  They're counting on us.”

Superman’s eyes locked onto Batman’s for a long, fragile moment, but Batman merely gazed back and offered nothing further. Superman sighed and glanced down, running his hand wearily across his forehead.

Most didn’t see the slight tremble in the hand as it moved, or the sheen of sweat on his brow. Batman did.  He frowned.

“Well, I can’t deny I’d hoped there’d be better suggestions, but we go ahead with what we’ve got.” Superman looked up at them all. “It’s our - and the hostages’- best chance.”

“Fine,” Diana finally said unhappily, echoed by J’onn’s and Arthur’s own frustrated sentiments.

“You will, however, help me create an appropriate disguise, I hope?” Superman suddenly asked Batman, who stared back at him narrowly.

“A wise strategy,” J’onn commented, approving at last.

“Cliché or not, sometimes discretion is the better part of valour,” Superman said with a glint in his eye as he flicked two fingers against his temple in a mini-salute to the Dark Knight.

“It is gratifying to see at least some of my methods rubbing off on you,” Batman said, the corners of his own mouth twitching nearly invisibly, unobservable to anyone but Superman.

“Especially considering that at times the reverse occurs,” Superman returned.

“On the rare occasion, perhaps. But if it suits my present purpose, who am I to gainsay any effective technique?”

“Unpredictability can be quite beneficial in our line of work.”

“Throwing one’s opponent into a state of confusion …”

“ … and therefore outmaneuvering him in the process.”

“Exactly my strategy.”

“Should work for Ayestrom too. He’s fairly powerful, of course, with some pretty fancy equipment, but not omnipotent. Or even psychic.”

“But extremely arrogant.”

“Got to hand him that.”

“It could be used against him.”

“It’s been the downfall of tyrants before him.”

“What are they going on about?” Kyle asked Wally from the corner of his mouth.

“Sometimes it’s like those two have a language all their own,” Flash answered, amused. “Especially when they’re arguing. Steel refers to it as ‘la langue fine du monde.’”

“Excusez-moi?” Kyle asked, mystified.

“’World’s Finest Lingo',” Diana translated, eyeing the pair with interest as they began to discuss the particulars of Superman’s anticipated disguise as if having forgotten the rest of them were there.

“Well, pardon my French, but can we pleeeeeze stick to the damn subject?” pleaded Plastic Man. “I’d really like to make my not-insignificant contribution to the battle plan sometime today.”

“You?” Aquaman snorted. “Eel O’Brian. Named for one of the most duplicitous creatures of the sea. And we’re going to trust you to watch our backs?”

“Hey! I wouldn’t go round so glibly insulting the Irishman name like that, your Majesty.  O’Brians take tremendous pride in their heritage and have a temper to match."  He morphed into a giant bottle filled with an orangish-yellow powder.  "It's not like I got named after an ethnic spice or anything from down the ole family line.”

“Tell me again, Batman, why this monkey is in the League?” The Atlantean king asked, throwing his hands up into the air.

“Arthur …” Diana, ever the peacemaker, laid a hand on Aquaman’s shoulder.

“And by the way, Fish-King,” Plas said softly, below everyone’s threshold of hearing.  Almost everyone's.  “Some eels have quite the electric sting. As you should remember.”

Superman darted a sudden, concerned look at O’Brian, who winced at the glance, and then shrugged, whistling innocently at him.

“We all have our place,” J’onn was answering Aquaman benignly as he moved from the table to the computer console, “and each our valued role.”

“Yeah,” muttered Kyle under his breath as he checked the duty roster Batman’s console spat out, “and mine seems to be glorified errand boy.”

“Nope,” Wally put in as he raced to a weapons locker. “’Fraid I outrank you there, Rookie.” He whizzed around Kyle in a circle of red blur as he stockpiled his weapons on the conference table. “That’s my job.”

“Just great. Out-brassed for even gopher duty.”

“Cease your moaning, Green Lantern,” Aquaman commanded. “Or haven’t you noticed that Batman’s been beckoning you and grows impatient?”

Kyle jumped, feeling the colour rush to his cheeks, and twisted to face the Bat.

“Ooohh, now you’re in for it,” Plas commented as snidely as Kyle’s question had been earlier. “Have loads of fun emulating a Bat-pancake!”

Kyle hurried over, too anxious to think of a suitable comeback.

“We do not have time to waste, Lantern,” Batman said with his trademark glower. “You know what’s at stake here.”

“I’m really, really sorry,” Kyle’s words tumbled out all over themselves before he could stop them. “I’m not usually so slow on the uptake, but what with all these Ayestromy-type crises, and me missing my deadlines galore at work all week as a result, and my sister and niece visiting me in New York for a while but me never being around and I think they’re starting to think I lead a double life or something and I'm afrai-“

“Kyle,” Superman cut his panicky tirade short, admonishing Batman with a look - and who else could get away with that? - Kyle wondered dizzyingly to himself as he drew in a breath at last and tried hard not to notice how Batman looked even more forbidding than usual. “Relax. Okay? We’ll get this guy. But we could really use your help here. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Kyle answered Superman, taking another breath to steady his nerves. “Right. Okay. We’ll get him.” He noticed how Superman was eyeing him somewhat worriedly.  “I’m good, I’m good. So, what can I do you for?”

“Well, actually, we could use a touch of your professional artistry.”

“Oh?” He brightened and calmed down at the same time, suddenly intrigued and immensely flattered, but trying his utmost to appear nonchalant. The Big Two were actually asking his advice?

“You design costumes and various outfits, am I right? For your fictional characters?”

“Uh huh,” he managed oh so eloquently.

“Then you can contribute some ideas,” Batman snapped, turning to tap at his screen. “What we need for Superman’s disguise to be effective is this …”

It didn’t take long for Kyle to quickly become embroiled in the challenge.

The next hour was spent with all the core members of the League prepping their plan, their equipment and tools, and conferring together over any possible and preventable waylays. All too soon, the precious time ticked away. Finally, the battle preparations neared completion, and the iron butterflies in various super stomachs seemed to increase the intensity of their fluttering.

“Why oh why am I feeling even more nervous than usual?” Kyle confessed to Wally, looking at his teammates and trying to gauge if they were similarly influenced by the stress. “After all, this isn’t our first crisis, and it isn’t as if we haven’t faced worse things. Giant alien starfish leap rather vividly to mind, and universe-hollowing forces of destruction, and time-travelling despots, and other-dimensional gods and demons, and so on and so forth …”

“Know what you mean,” Flash agreed, disconcertingly solemn. “Some of our cases have had even more dire consequences should we have failed.” He squeezed Kyle’s forearm unexpectedly. “Yet this bastard seems more … I dunno. Scary, I guess. Awful.  Indecent, even. Can’t really ‘splain it.  It's ... he's ... just plain ... terrible.”

“’Terror-full’, is the better adjective, Flash m’man,” Plastic Man’s lips, far removed from the rest of his face, suddenly appeared between them. Then the rest of him pulled forward as if attached to a spring to the lips to slide into place beside them. “It’s nerve-wrackingly weird, but I hear ya.”

“Yeah.  Maybe it is Ayestrom. He ... well, he kinda gives me the ... the heebie-jeebies,” Kyle said softly, beginning to think hard about it, secretly wondering if his super-heroic courage had backed out of the nearest airlock while he was busy sorting out his mixed feelings.

“Monstrosity in its purest form,” Superman suddenly answered him from right across the large room, just loudly enough that heads turned with a jerk. Then they all did a double-take at him, which he apparently failed to notice. “Believe me, Kyle, it’s enough to give us all the ‘heebie-jeebies’.”

Kyle stared a bit, although more at the comment out of nowhere than at the outfit. After all, he’d helped design it.

“There's just no escape from the all-hearing ear,” Flash suppressed a grin, then his voice dropped off as he took in Superman's rather startling new appearance. “Gets me every time ...”

Batman stood beside his sometime partner, and Kyle could swear he looked almost proud of his handiwork. Even though Kyle had had a hand in the design, the practical application and effect on Superman upon donning it was something ... unexpected. If it had not been for his distinctive voice, and for the fact that they had been expecting him, Superman’s own teammates would have had quite the hard time recognizing him. He looked as much the opposite of his usual self as a man could get without having a Martian’s native shape-shifting ability.

"Uh, wow, great new look, Supes,” Plastic Man remarked, eyes literally protruding from his head as he scanned Superman up and down. “Damn near revolting even, dare I say. Two thumbs way, way down for you ever winning that super-hero beauty pageant now.”  Plastic Man’s thumbs dragged along the floor.

“Ah, thank you," said Superman.  "I think.”

Kyle moved forward along with everyone else, and simply stared.

Superman's jet black hair was now iron grey and quite ragged, with long, straggly locks squirrelling over his newly lined and weathered forehead, tangled into a rough twist at the back of his neck. His fair, bronzed skin was now visibly darker, and not just from the dirt and creased-in grease. His normally clean cut chin and strong jaw were softened by whisker-covered jowls, and his mouth bore visible tobacco stains.  Scar tissue stretched across the left side of his face from nose to ear, effectively disguising the prominent, high-planed cheekbones. Deep, folded-in bags under his eyes gave them an aged, sunken appearance.

Even his height seemed to have diminished, as if his very spine had collapsed vertebra by vertebra in on itself. His muscular shoulders were rounded forward, and mysteriously seemed to have lost some of their bulk. Bowed legs and a carefully-constructed club foot lent a noticeable limp as he began to hobble forward into the room, leaning heavily on a splintery, stained stick, obviously self-conscious of everyone’s appraisal. His clothes were indescribably dirty: a worn and torn old uniform of a waste plant maintenance worker.

Kyle smiled.  Oracle had done her research, and apparently a great many of the refugees hiding out under Ayestrom’s ‘protection’ were former underground employees from the cities, and were purportedly in desperate straits. Superman certainly now looked the part.

Most convincingly, Superman’s very body language and mannerisms were vastly different from the Man of Steel they knew.

“So that’s how Clark Kent gets away with it,” breathed Wally, staring, and Kyle silently agreed.

He’d thought even with heavy make-up they wouldn’t be able to disguise Superman’s natural physical endowments. But this shabby old guy before them wouldn’t merit a second glance.

Perfect.

Then the ‘shabby old guy’ suddenly grinned at Wally’s comment and the illusion was broken.

“It takes talent, to be sure,” Superman laughed, breaking the grim and melancholic mood that had seemed to descend upon them all. “But that’s just for my day job. This role might take a slight bit more acting finesse on my part, I fear.”

The one thing Superman couldn’t completely hide was that sparkling aura he seemed to unconsciously project, that irrepressible something that blazed forth and lit up whatever room he happened to be in, like a damped-down energy held in constant check, and which generally tended to set nerves all a-crackling. That was still there, sensed abstractly through the grime and abject humility of the wretched-looking creature before them.

And, of course, there were the eyes.

"You sure I can't come along?" Plastic Man said, transforming into a long toilet bowl brush and pressing himself into Superman's hand.  "I could be a big help, don't you know ... never can tell where there's germs to eliminate ..."

“You should certainly fit in down amongst the dregs that purportedly dwell in the old factory sites of Ayestrom’s lairs,” Diana commented with an appraising nod. “Well done, Batman.”

“And with no help at all from nobody me, natch,” muttered Kyle to himself, turning away.

“Actually, it was a collaborative effort between all three of us,” Superman acknowledged quite clearly. “With Green Lantern as our chief ‘Disgust and Decay Dehabilitator’.”

“Way to go, Kyle!” Wally thumped him on the back enthusiastically. “But, erm, don’t you think you guys kind of outdid yourselves in the odour department? Phee-ew! Talk about rank!”

Flash waved his hand super fast in front of his face while Plas morphed his into a giant red and blue gas mask.

“We felt,” Kyle said defensively, “that a certain lack of ... er, hygiene might further prevent other ‘dregs’ in the place from uh, molesting him. Who knows what kind of lowlifes are down there?”

“I know, but really.”

“Possessing an especially keen olfactory sense doesn’t exactly make it a picnic for me, either,” Superman said rather mournfully, gingerly sniffing at what only with great charity be called clothing. “Trust me.”

“Ah, the sacrifices for the cause,” Diana said, fighting a losing battle to keep her face straight. “Perhaps you should have allowed J’onn to go in your place after all.”

“Not if I had to smell as fragrant as that,” J’onn immediately replied. “Only the strong can survive such adversity, I’m told, and Kal-El has, after all, greater strength than do I.”

“Thanks,” Superman said, throwing what could only be called a dirty look at J’onn.

“Believe you me, he’s strong right now,” Plas said, words muffled through his gas mask. “Very strong.”

“You may have to do something about his eyes,” Aquaman noted in a business-like manner, ignoring both the smell and the banter as he strode up to Superman and looked him over critically.

“My eyes.”

“They stand out. Glaringly. If you want Ayestrom to pinpoint you within two seconds of getting a half-decent look at your face, then just keep on looking like that. I’d warrant he has at least a rudimentary knowledge of each of our physical appearances, and more likely than not has us down to the last detail. And your eyes are like headlights.”

“On high beam,” Flash put in.

“Particularly against that darker skin tone.”

Superman’s eyes did indeed seem to gleam with their own light, the clear, icy, alien blue, together with the fire of the mind behind them, contrasted brilliantly against the rest of the disguise, their clarity accentuated by the overall filth.

Superman frowned. “Although I have a certain physiological control over some physical aspects of myself, like my voice, I don’t think I can simply will a colour-change to happen to-“

“I noticed the discrepancy,” Batman smoothly interjected. “And have prepared for that contingency.”

“Of course he has,” Flash observed caustically.

From his utility belt, Batman produced a small case which he deftly flipped open and handed to Superman, who took them warily into his newly scarred and gnarled hands, which shook slightly. He stilled them quickly before anyone but Batman noticed, hoping he would assume it was more acting the part, and peered down at the soft objects.

Contacts.

“Good thinking.”

He tilted his head back, popped them in, and looked up. One eye was now a muted, muddy brown, unremarkable. But the other held a sheen of sickly white, milky over the subtle brown beneath. Blind.

“Talk about Ug-Ly,” Plas said admiringly. “Hey, I know this scary bag lady looking for a date … I could set something up …"

"Thine eye shall doth deceive him, methinks," said Flash with a smirk.

"Definitely an improvement,” J’onn said.

“I’ll try not to take that personally,” Superman said dryly.

J’onn actually smiled. “I could scarcely have done better myself. Although perhaps a gender change …”

Superman narrowed his eyes. “I am not wearing a dress.”

That spurred a few hoots from the younger set.

“Whyever not, Supes? I’m thinking you’d fill it out rather nicely,” Plas said slyly.

Superman raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well, even as a guy, this should easily get them to turn a blind ‘Aye’ to you,” chortled Flash.

“I almost wish I were blind,” Kyle said, fighting down a smirk. “Will you all ever forgive me? 'Cause hopefully being Eye-less will help make us Aye-less soon too, right? Though come to think of it, maybe nose-less would be preferable right now …”

“Aye!”

"Aye, aye!"

“Well, if we all like it, I guess the ‘Eyes’ have it,” Wally added with a chuckle.

Even Diana groaned at that one. “Gods, Flash …”

Superman just stood there and patiently endured the remarks and laughter, though he did turn a long-suffering look on Batman. Batman merely folded his arms across his chest and held his peace.

“Does anyone else realize just how surreal this conversation is getting?” asked Kyle, squinting at the others as if trying to judge their solidity.

Wally shrugged noncommittally. “Believe me, I know we’re still here in this plane of increasingly interesting existence. That smell is only all too real.”

“Cornered me there,” Kyle grinned.

He realized he felt a slight bit better for the first time since they had recognized what a horrible, monstrous threat Ayestrom had become. Whether it was the truth or not, Superman and the other senior members of the team - except Batman and Aquaman, naturally, and the world really would be ending if they cracked a smile - were keeping things buoyant, and the effect was rather contagious. He’d actually stopped worrying about Ayestrom, about his missed deadlines and his job in jeopardy, about his sister and her suspicions, about his young niece and her complicated problems, about his usefulness to the team, about having to live up to the Green Lantern legacy, about everything, even if it was for just a few minutes.

Maybe, just maybe, they would manage to pull this outrageous plan off, and get everyone out of it intact, kids, ambassadors, League teammates, and all. Maybe. He could hope, couldn’t he? He had to hope. Wasn’t that what heroes did?

“The chronometer is ticking,” J’onn finally said gently, and Kyle could tell even he was reluctant to break up the camaraderie.

"Ready, aye, ready, Manhunter!" Flash snapped off a salute.

“All righty, everybudeeee,” Plastic Man announced sternly, the gargantuan sun-dial on his wrist belying his serious tone, “synchronize your JLA ™ watches. Say a prayer for the boys, and move on out!”

Everyone looked at him for a moment. Kyle suddenly felt a wide grin steal over his face and opened his mouth to give the best put-down comeback he’d ever come up with, when Batman nodded a stiff agreement and Superman shrugged a deformed shoulder and said, “You heard the man,” and everyone else nodded determinedly and began heading en masse for the teleporters.

Kyle scowled, stymied.

“Y-you did?” Plas stammered, slack-jawed for a split second. He recovered amazingly fast, and his costume transformed to an off-beat semblance of a police officer’s uniform. “Right. You certainly did. Move out, and stay coordinated, people.” The team ignored him this time, proceeding with their equipment out of the room. “Oh, and JL Blues,” Plas paused dramatically. “Let’s be careful out there.”

Kyle sighed.

Everyone gathered up the packs of equipment and gathered together for a moment in silence, and Kyle suddenly felt the return of the queasiness that had momentarily dissipated .  He took a breath as he looked out the clear plasteel viewports towards the crescent Earth hanging above.

That so very vulnerable little planet ...

But he caught Superman's gaze for a moment, and couldn't help but return the grin, and his step was a touch lighter as he got up onto the teleporter platform.

Yes.  This was going to work.  He knew it.

It just had to.

____

Part One, "In Terrorem", found Here.

Part Two, "Ex Hypothesi", found Here.

Part Three (1st Half), "Stratagem", found Here.

Thank You so VERY much for the kind commentaries and feedback so far that you've generously given me.  I appreciate it more than I can say, everyone, and it really is very encouraging and helps keep me going, especially as I'm still finding this story difficult to post, both physically for some reason, (gah, LJ!) and emotionally.  So ... thank you.   :-)