The trip back was quiet, and I knew before I even Zetatubed in that apologies weren't going to cut it. Not this time. Only results and information would allow me to maintain my relationship with the League moving forward.
Red Tornado forwarded my call to Batman and the rest of the League. Unfortunately, they were available, and before I knew it, I was staring at the entire Justice League in full view.
A chill ran down my spine. I hadn't gotten the full League treatment since that night at Cadmus.
I shifted from leg to leg. "Kind of feel a bit awkward with all of you here."
"You said you had news?" Batman asked, tone sharp and perfunctory.
"Ah, well… I went to see Poison Ivy," I began, scratching my head.
"You did what?" Batman's voice cracked like a whip.
"Didn't you blow up a ton of her vines?" Green Lantern asked. "I hear she takes that sort of thing very personally."
"What would possess you to do something so foolish?" Wonder Woman demanded.
"I had no choice," I said, raising my hands in a placating gesture. "Some kid I knew from way back decided to follow in my footsteps and fight in the pits. I figured that if the worst came to the worst, I could duck out. Ivy's got pheromones, soldiers, and plants—but I'm resistant, strong, and fast."
"Let me guess—she held a grudge?" Green Arrow smirked.
"She did. But I made it as far as her castle," I said. "Turns out I'm good at business." I didn't mention trying to bribe her with my ill-gotten gains. I was already in enough trouble. "The only problem was, she was entertaining other guests at the time."
I laid out everything I'd seen and learned—her expansionist plans, the sorcerers' renewed interest in me, and the connection between them and Lex Luthor.
Then I told them about the deaths. Two-Face and the Russian first, then the sorcerer, and finally Joker.
Silence followed. Long enough that I wondered if the screens had frozen, though I knew better.
"Do you realize what you've done?" Superman spoke first.
"I protected myself," I said carefully. "I had to put them down. That was the only way I was making it out alive."
"A situation you put yourself in by not informing anyone of your movements," Batman cut in. "You kill without hesitation, and you break our agreement without thought to the consequences."
"I thought about the consequences," I replied, calm. "I assumed we'd be better off without me in the hands of a well-connected psychopath hellbent on world domination. Would you have preferred I spared Joker's life?"
"That's not what I'm saying, and you know it," Batman snapped. "Your revenge spirals—from Gotham to Cadmus to Texas. Death and destruction follow you. Did you think about the fallout from killing three of Gotham's biggest crime bosses?"
"I was a little busy staying alive, so no," I admitted. "But I imagine it'll make Ivy and Shelim stronger—and me an even bigger target. Still, I don't see the issue with self-defense. You can't tell me no one here has taken a life to save their own."
I scanned the room.
"That's not the problem," Black Canary said. "The problem is premeditation. You went into Ivy's kingdom expecting a fight, were armed for it, and killed four people—three of whom posed minimal threat."
"Minimal?" I echoed. "Joker's killed thousands. Two-Face is a coin-flipping psychopath. And the Russian was slipperier than an eel in baby oil. With a First Grade enhanced by Blockbuster breathing down my neck, ignoring them would've been suicide. Besides, calling them a 'minimal threat' is kind of a knock on Batman—he's been fighting them for years."
Silence again. I took the opportunity to produce the whip I'd brought, along with a severed hand—Ernest's.
"This was his weapon of choice. A whip that hit harder each time it landed. You have no idea how much damage I took in that fight."
"Nobody's saying you didn't have a rough time," Hal Jordan said. "But there's a reason we don't just start popping our enemies."
"We don't have badges," Flash added.
"And that kind of rabid violence invites scrutiny," Captain Atom said. "Scrutiny that stops us from helping the people who need it most. Exceptions do happen, but exceptions do happen."
Wonder Woman in agreement. "We've all put down enemies of Earth when the situation demanded it. Humans are the exception for some reason..."
Superman's expression flickered—guilt, probably. The League was founded after fighting the Apellaxians. Between them, they'd killed thousands of hostile invaders.
"Still, this can't continue," he said at last.
"We can't turn him over to the cops," Captain Marvel blurted, earning stares. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Cops get attacked in jail. Has to be worse for superheroes."
"Wisely put," Wonder Woman said.
"He should be restricted to the base, as a start," Batman said, his voice like granite. "Then we'll discuss additional measures."
"Fair enough," I said. "But don't forget—I'm one of the few, besides Zatanna, who can actually see Curse Energy. If Lily or the others show up, Leaguers might die from attacks they never saw coming. We've been on the back foot this whole time. You should consider going on the offensive."
"We'll take it under consideration," Batman said. "Leave the hand and whip with Red Tornado—he'll get them to Zatanna. This is your final chance, Julius. Don't blow it."
The screen winked off.
"Well, they took it better than I expected," I said, handing the items to Red Tornado.
"As well as could be expected," he replied in his soft monotone.
"You were quiet," I noted. "What did you think?"
"The circumstances were extraordinary," he said. "But you kill with a worrying detachment."
"I wouldn't call it detachment," I said. "I'm well aware of the chaos killing causes. But sometimes it has to be done. Superheroes like to pretend there's never a good reason. There is. Ask the courts, the police, or the military. And this war with the sorcerers and Luthor won't be bloodless. The only question is who's doing the bleeding."
Shelim's POV
The phone screen lit up. I glanced at the time as I pulled in a lungful of smoke from my cigarette. The cold nipped at my bare chest as I took in Gotham's skyline from my balcony.
Hours have passed when he should've called.
Ernest was never late.
It was the best and most infuriating thing about the First Grade Sorcerer.
He was always on my case, always finding an excuse to show me up in front of the boss. We'd been recruited around the same time, but circumstances, luck, and DNA had sent us down different paths.
I'd gotten Special Grade Curse Energy reserves after Artisan Surgery. Ernest was stuck at the edge of Second Grade. But through sheer grit and relentless training, he'd clawed his way to the very top of First Grade.
I'd been made lucky, but Ernest made his luck. Second-grade should've been the highest rank he should've achieved, but the bastard was just too damn stubborn.
I'd been annoyed when Artisan assigned him to Gotham. Apparently, I had been too conservative with my organization.
Where I preferred a small, mobile, surgical, Ernest was a Mafia man.
He knew how to recruit the desperate. He knew how to command loyalty. He knew how to balloon our ranks with the talented mundanes and forge alliances.
And while I'd never approve of his methods--I was far too petty to do that.
He'd earned my respect a thousand times over.
The prospect of him being dead...
It burned me.