"Death cult," Ade said distastefully, "is that what you call us to make yourself feel better about your violence?"
"Tugging on my heartstrings, really?" I snorted. "That's a bold strategy, Ade. Fine, no death cult. What do you call yourselves then?"
"Shinka no Rutsubo," he said in fluent Japanese, "the Crucible of Evolution."
I laughed, and the sound clearly offended him, which only made it funnier.
Wiping the tears from my eyes, I nodded. "I get it. Artisan. Crucible. I see the wobbly throughline. Still, she probably should've picked something a little subtler. It's pretty obvious which came first."
"Your deflections and jokes do not hide the truth," he said coldly. "This world is broken. Humanity is fragile and writhes under the boots of capitalists, dictators, and alien beings who pretend to be gods. All we want is to give humanity a fair chance to evolve."
I scoffed. "By activating everyone's negative energy reserves and flooding the planet with Cursed Energy. You would trade billions of lives for a few hundred Special Grades."
"Hundreds beyond Special Grade. Millions with strength comparable to yours, and that is not even counting the metas or the sweeping biological changes Artisan plans to implement," he countered. "Within a few generations, the weakest among us will be able to lift cars over their heads."
"And you think all that strength will suddenly fix us?" I shrugged. "Magically make people decent. Make them less human than they really are?"
"Do you really think she didn't account for that?" he asked with a smirk, and my eyes narrowed.
Vows. Mental lobotomies. Drugs. An entire cadre of telepathic metas whose sole job would be policing thoughts and rooting out instability.
Now that she could create metas, Artisan had every tool she needed to enforce her new world order. In a sense, Ade did not matter, and neither did the rest of her sorcerers. Only she did. It was simply a matter of time.
"She plans to rule over the ashes, doesn't she?"
"You really think we didn't think this through?" he smiled. "Every death, every captured mind, every dominated soul. We are everywhere. This world will not fall until the precise moment we want it to."
"Are you sure about that?" I asked, stepping closer until I was staring down at him. "Because from where I'm standing, you don't look very in control. Your money man is probably under the Justice League's thumb right now. I have you rotting under a barrier, and Artisan is a million miles away."
Ade's smile widened, and a chill crawled up my spine.
"The irony is almost delicious."
I grabbed his throat. "What do you mean?"
"W-we have an audience," he rasped, looking past me.
I spun around, expecting George, Artisan, or some other sorcerer.
Instead, I found a Leaguer watching me.
Shazam.
He should not have been able to see through the barrier, but the rumors were always that his powers were mystical rather than biological.
The horror on his face was unmistakable.
"Well. That's not ideal."
"Uh… Batman," I saw him mouth, "we have a situation out here. How can I put this delicately? Julius is torturing him."
"When you say it like that with that look on your face, you make it sound bad," I said.
Shazam frowned, clearly reading my lips. "It is bad. No two ways about it. Heroes don't torture people."
"I never claimed to be one," I replied, "and it is not like this was my first choice. You guys were already working around the loopholes in the vow. It is only pragmatic that I did the same."
"From the look on his face, you would think otherwise," Ade chimed in, and I nearly hit him on reflex.
Shazam looked confused. "What are you talking about?"
"Oh, come on," I said. "You plan to detain me for the second the mission is over. That is why you are moving in heavy hitters. Artisan's possible arrival gives you plausible deniability. Nothing stops you from sharing whatever information you extract with me after I am sitting in a cell."
Shazam's brow furrowed, and his eyes widened in surprise.
"So Bats confirmed it, huh?"
"Batman says you can still settle this peacefully if you surrender," Shazam repeated.
"Tell him that if he tries to take me after our twenty-four hours are over, I will lobotomize Ade," I said evenly.
Ade's limbs flailed as he barked out in protestation and rage.
"You wouldn't," he gasped, though the fear in his voice betrayed him.
"He will technically still be alive," I explained calmly. "So I would not break my vow, and I would eliminate one of Artisan's generals. I can live with those results. Can you? And if you are still unsure, remember that I still have contingencies in place. The vow never stopped me from preparing those."
Shazam swallowed and stared at me. Something flickered behind his eyes, and they turned cold.
"I resign from the Justice League, Batman. I do not meet one of the five criteria required. I am not over eighteen years old."
My eyes widened.
"Ah, crap."
Ade started laughing.
I kicked him in the balls.
—
Batman's POV
The fight was over before it had even begun.
One second, Zatara was bleeding out. The next, Red Tornado was falling, split into four pieces, his body spurting oil and electricity.
The fastest members of the Justice League reacted instantly.
Flash rescued Zatara, who was missing a heart. Captain Atom fired a bolt of atomic energy at George. It froze inches from George's face, and he smirked as he raised a hand and twisted. Cars were ripped from the street and dragged into a building maelstrom of attractive force. Martian Manhunter leveraged his considerable telekinetic might against George's, struggling to break his control.
Wonder Woman returned and charged into the fray, only to be driven back by a bolt of lightning that slammed into her and hurled her through the windows of a nearby building.
Light flashed, and someone materialized.
Shelim.
He was taller in person than I had expected.
"Honestly didn't think that would work," he said idly. "Oh well."
He dove in after Wonder Woman.
"Batman!"
Flash's panicked voice tore me away from the fight.
"It's his heart. I don't… we can't. There's nothing we can do."
"We should talk to Shazam. Julius could heal him."
It would mean a complete reversal of our current stance on Julius, and it would mean Flash leaving the city, but Zatara was worth it. He was a father, for Christ's sake.
Zatara refused me, summoning Fate's helmet instead.
My heart dropped, and a collective dread spread throughout our telepathic channel. We knew what was coming, but it still caught M'gann by surprise.
"Is he really going to—"
"I'm afraid he is," I said. "He's out of options, and we need to buy more time until the rest of the League gets here. Robin should have already activated the beacon."
"By then it will be too late," a voice said.
A strange woman stood before us.
She wore tactical clothes and a compression shirt, with a pair of short swords strapped to her waist.
She matched Julius's description of Priya perfectly, which meant she was a legitimate threat.
Her gaze dropped to the ground in front of her, calculating.
Sprawled out and unconscious were her former associates: the telekinetic Alexander, the teleporter, and Ming. Alex's wife and children stood closer to us, shivering, more afraid of her than us.
I had expected a more violent reaction, given everything Julius told us about her.
"M'gann. Connor. Canary. Ready to attack," I ordered telepathically. "Her biggest advantages are her speed and her blades. Whatever you do, do not let her swing them."
"There is no need for further violence," she said, "unless you prefer it. I will call off my people if you call off yours."
"Where's Artisan?" I demanded.
"She's indisposed."
"M'gann. Can you get a read on her?" I sent telepathically.
"She definitely has more cursed energy than the unconscious sorcerer, but her mind is like the rest. It's walled off."
I worked my jaw. Of course, they had neutralized our advantage the moment they discovered it.
"What do you have in mind, Dr. Priya?"
For the first time, I saw emotion from her.
Rage.
Her eyes burned like coals left in a fire too long, white-hot and intense, but it was not directed at me. It was likely at Julius. She must've surmised that he told us about her. The expression vanished as quickly as it appeared.
She took her time to gather her words as the world around us shook.
A lightning-wreathed young man was flung across the street and into a building. The air suddenly ignited outside. Martian Manhunter screamed. George had set a car on fire, torn it apart, and hurled the wreckage at him.
It was enough to overwhelm him, if only temporarily.
"An exchange," she said. "The lives of our operatives and Julius for the safety of thousands of people across America."
I exhaled slowly. Of course, there were hostages. And why wouldn't there be?
Leveraging them was as predictable as it was effective.
A burst of light erupted a few blocks away, where Flash had ferried Zatara. The mental link M'gann established snapped sharply, then reattached itself.
The voice that came through was regal, powerful, almost sublime.
"I am Dr. Fate, Lord of Order."
Nabu's ancient voice layered over Zatara's.
He shot into the sky and began firing blasts of golden light.
For the first time since the battle began, I felt something close to relief—that we could make it out of this without more tragedy, but I did not allow myself to relax.
"And why would I ever agree to that?"
"Because thousands will die if you don't," she said simply, her hands tucked behind her back. "You are familiar with our extensive network of people, correct?"
I did not like where this was going.
"Several thousand of our most loyal have already been given the means and instructions to kill should Artisan's demands go unmet," she continued. "Even with Flash's assistance, you would never find them in time."
She glanced outside, spotting Dr. Fate.
"And the appearance of a Lord of Order does not change the arithmetic."
"I think he would disagree with that assessment," I said as Doctor Fate rose into the air and began to chant. An unlinking spell. It was high-level Order magic, something Zatarra alone didn't have the juice for, but combined with Dr. Fate, that changed things considerably.
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