Keep scrolling for the actual story; this here is just...administrative stuff. And the roll call for the Justice League of America, of course, nothing too major.

Oh, hello! I didn't see you there! (That's a lie, I see everything. I work for the NSA after all).

For starters, let me say thank you to everyone who migrated over from Reign of Terror. As I said, I apologize that ROT is going to take a back seat to this story, and I appreciate all the support you gave me! Hopefully you enjoy this story too, as it's the thing I've been wanting to write for about 3 solid months now…

I'll try to keep the author's note brief, but just since I think this needs a little context with past events, I figured I'd do that before the story actually starts.

So….., this story takes place after JLA #75, also known as the last part of the Obsidian Age arc. A lot of the past events will be referenced (hopefully in as natural a way as possible) to fill in some of the gaps, but again I figure it's best to explain the setting here than to try to crowbar it in somewhere else.

Now, what happened in JLA #75? The Justice League returned from the dead and managed to retake Atlantis from some bad guys, Aquaman's in some serious trouble with his people, and Batman and Wonder Woman have yet to have a little talk about something special that happened out on the battlefield.

Oh and President Luthor tried to nuke the island to stop the bad guys while the replacement JLA was still there. You know, because he's kind of a dick.

What HASN'T happened yet is the following: JLA #90, Identity Crisis, Infinite Crisis, The Crisis of the Crisises, The Passion of the Crisis, Crisis Part II: The Electric Boogaloo, Final Crisis, Final Crisis in Trade Paper Back form (so you can actually understand it), and, of course, Flashpoint hasn't happened yet.

And that's about it. The rest of the plot (so the entire story), is all an original idea my myself and the voices in my head. Not a whole lot of impact on the story at large other than setting up the beginning of the prologue and, of course, the team composition. Which, by the way, includes…

-Batman (the comically serious)

-Superman (the comically Jesus-like)

-Wonder Woman (the neutral good who also doesn't pull out a sword whenever she wants because she's a nuanced character and not a raging psychopath with a bikini *grumble grumble New 52 grumble grumble*)

-Martian Manhunter (the comically serious alien with an Oreo addiction)

-Flash III [Wally West] (the guy who can run around the world eighteen times and stop at every drive through on the planet)

-Green Lantern IV [Kyle Rayner] (the comic book artist with a heart [and a galactic WMD on his middle finger])

-Plastic Man (Jim Carrey meets an exploded NOVA Chemicals plant)

So…..yeah, there we go. That is the cast of the JLA. Of course there are plenty more characters in this story, I just wanted to make sure everyone knew who was on the team so people could do their homework if they needed.

Without further ado, the legal stuff:

DC Comics owns all characters as well as my attention. While I pretend to own my personal thoughts, I'm not convinced I'm just some fragment of a higher being forced to walk this mortal plane…broke as all hell…..

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Prologue

"I am Alpha and Omega: the Beginning and the End….."

United States Presidential Election Debate: Senator James Franklin Kirkpatrick (D-MA) vs Incumbent J. Allen Carter

Three days before the Presidential Election...

His head continued to pound in his skull. His fists shook beneath the podium. His teeth ground together at every passing word from his opponent. He was nothing but a ball of barely contain rage at this point, and no less than one hundred and fifty million Americans had a front row seat to his slow and excruciating downfall.

He'd have called it a public execution if he wasn't already lamenting about his blink-and-you'll-miss-it tenure as the Leader of the Free World.

Not like he wasn't warned about an impending investigation and recall, though…

He was fully aware that his inability to control his emotions only kicked him further down the hole he found himself in. He knew that the very act of having his candidacy challenged after Luthor was indicted was the first deathblow to his campaign. Every advisor, every friend he still had, warned him that standing in front of the nation and trying to rationalize the administration's actions was nothing short of committing political suicide.

Especially if the public was firmly on the side of the JLA…

But every plan he thought he had, no matter how sly, no matter how brilliant, seemed to crumble around him as that damned Senator from Massachusetts pounded away at his defenses.

He was retreating almost before the moderator asked the first question. That was fifteen minutes ago. By now, he almost felt as though the debate would be submitted as evidence at the World Court the way things were going…

"I'm not…no let me finish Mr. Vice President…"

"It's Mr. President son." He spat, "As in Commander-in-Chief. So far as I know the Line of Succession…"

"Doesn't apply during an emergency election. Especially when the previous administration is being charged with a wide assortment of war crimes…"

The flash of an army's worth of camera's bathed the two podiums in flickering light, a thunderous applause emanating from the audience. He ran an exasperated hand through his greying hair as he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. Carter scowled at his increasingly audacious opponent, silently cursing every analyst and campaign manager he had hired from that overpriced firm in Metropolis for being so damn off the mark…

He swore at himself too, for ever thinking that the public wouldn't immediately get behind the young Senator from Massachusetts. His comments about him being nothing more than a baby-faced, bleeding heart wimp seemed to be accurate at first glance, but Kirkpatrick had an entire library's worth of transcripts and documents painting a damning picture of Luthor's administration. His administration. All he had to do was smile innocently at the camera and read off the latest INTERPOL report and the endearing public would fawn at his feet.

They needed a scapegoat.

He should have listened to Waller's warnings…

The young man on the left of the stage soaked up the clamour and attention around him with a toothy grin as he continued, his piercing blue eyes stealing glances at the bustling audience hidden away in the shadows after every successfully hit.

"I know you don't like me to use that term, Mr. Vice President, but there's no two ways about it. What Luthor's administration did…"

"Was completely necessary." The older gentleman seethed, desperately trying to stave off the Senator's offensive.

The smirk was replaced with a look of offense and shock. If the Senator hadn't been a professional politician, Carter would have thought he legitimately offended the man…

"Dropping a WMD on a foreign nation, let alone American citizens, is hardly necessary. Especially if those citizens were the JLA, and especially when it's deployed without the permission of either House of Congress or the UN…"

Carter's scowl tightened on his lips as another round of applause echoed in his ears, the already severe migraine threatening to rip open his skull. His fiery glare merely rolled off Senator Kirkpatrick's eased demeanor. Still unfazed. Still regal.

Still infuriating.

Carter's glower instead fell onto the silent and clearly befuddled moderator as he began to respond, the emotion in his voice rising with every word.

"It's fully within the prevue of the President's powers to utilize any weapon they see fit so long as it serves a national interest. And considering how we were in the process of succumbing to world-wide dehydration…"

"According toS. 1011 Mr. Vice President," Kirkpatrick interrupted innocently, "you'd known that Muon Bombs, because of their catastrophic potential, are not something the White House has unlimited jurisdiction over. He fired on Atlantis with a UN weapon. He fired on Atlantis when Americans were in the city."

"He tried to save the planet!" Carter spat, quickly grimacing as his strategy yet again crumbled around his bubbling emotions.

"But all he did was endanger the JLA! Possibly even hamper them! We've yet to see a single instance where conventional weapons work against cosmic threats and he still nearly wiped out an entire league of superheroes. Mr. Vice President I understand that, as a member of the National Security Council, you want to avoid blame for what happened, but…"

"Don't you dare try to implicate me in anything, Senator! This is not a trial!"

"I'm aware Mr. Vice President, and I apologize if it seemed that way." Kirkpatrick's hands rose apologetically. "I know that any war crimes Luthor and the lot are being charged with don't include you, but…"

"I take offense to you and every other pseudo-lawyer out there calling those people criminals!" Carter interrupted forcefully. His irate eyes fell upon the plump form of the moderator again as he pleaded. "This debate is turning into nothing more than a kangaroo court; I implore you to…"

"Luthor, Waller, Lane and everyone else in the upper echelon of the White House immediately fled and went underground after INTERPOL first started investigating. Knowing Luthor's past, knowing Waller's past, especially with meta-humans, it's not exactly an encouraging act. After all, they could be out there right now, with all their contacts, planning something. I don't mean to make this a trial but I do want justice for the American people! This government must be accountable!"

Carter almost couldn't hear the roaring of the crowd through his laboured breath and pounding head. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the podium, pure anger coursing through his veins.

Everyone in the theatre was taken aback when he bellowed out in anger. No one more so than the Democrat who found himself at the end of a shaking, accusatory finger.

"And who the hell are you to talk about Justice? Hmm? You and the sanctimonious cloud that you float on, high above all the world's problems and fears and the goddamn reality the rest of us have to live in! Have you ever had to roll around in the muck of the world with nothing more than an a half empty magazine and your dead friend lying on top of you? Or do you just wait until Superman blocks the bullet heading your way? Have you ever had to pull the trigger to save the life of another? Or do you just pray that Wonder Woman will do it for you? The JLA….." he spat, slamming his fist into the top of the podium.

"We made a decision, a tactical decision, that no matter how ineffective it may have been in the long run, at the time was meant to save lives. Save lives without some Deus Ex Machina gliding down from the heavens with a harp in one hand and a magical wand in the other. We made a decision to try to save the world! And you presume to judge us?"

A suffocating silence fell upon everyone in the building, all eyes trained on the fuming politician. Carter lowered his voice, but no attempt was made to filter out the pure vitriol that formed every word.

"Tell me then what you think Justice means? Enlighten me, Senator. Because from here, all I can see is a damn coward who's more than content to just let a pantheon of gods solve all of man's problems."

All attention was solely on Senator Kirkpatrick now. The flashes of cameras flickered. Spectators murmured. Eyes bore into the young politician intently. Carter could feel his chest continue to heave as he worked off the last of his agitation, feeling a sense of calm wash over him as the last of his outburst trailed off…

Only to have it rapidly rise again as his opponent smiled, straightened his tie, and answered in a calm, professional manner.

He hadn't fazed him at all…

"You're wrong on more than a few counts, Mr. Vice President. But you're very right on where I stand with your…performance. See I hold us to a far higher standard than most; we're the representatives of our people, after all. And if these so called gods as you describe them have taught me anything, it's that the bar can always be raised. And in a country such as ours, anything less is a death sentence to our very way of life. It's not the Cold War anymore. The situation we find ourselves in is far, far more philosophically important that being capitalist or communist, free or oppressed. No…we're in an era where the dominant question to be answered is 'what does it mean to be human?' and more importantly, 'how do we, as a species so young and naïve, respond to the world around them?'"

He released his tie, folding his hands calmly in front of him. He leaned over the podium with confidence, staring directly into the eyes of the crowd and the rows of camera's tracking his every move.

"I don't propose to rely on the JLA for everything, not even close to that. But for our government to be effective, we must be adaptable. We have to see an ally, a resource if you will, for what is it; an opportunity. We need to increase ties with the JLA and any other league of superheroes in order to make sure that we can best utilize them for the betterment of humanity as a whole, the common good. We have the means, the connections, and the people to make this a reality, and the fact that we've until this time kept them at arm's length…well I think that's just plain criminal. I don't mean replacing the fire department with them of course, that's not an effective utilization of someone who can fly or stop asteroids. But I do understand that we live in the world first described by Nietzsche all those years ago, and with that comes a threat that frankly, a muon bomb just won't fix…"

Carter grimaced as a cacophony of cheers rattled around his brain. He grimaced further when the realization of what was happening finally donned on him.

He had tried to back the Senator into a corner with pure passion, and now the bastard was turning it into his very own stump speech.

The arrogant, incensing, doe eyed, bloody bastard…

"…Now my opponent has asked what I think Justice means. I'll answer that question. I think it means a lot of things, but one of the most important, and most forgotten aspects, is paying attention to the little guy. Remembering that he's there. See…we have the fortune of having the Justice League up there and looking out for the big threats that you and I, we don't have a hope of defeating. So, for me, Justice means doing whatever I can to make sure the common man on the ground is safe and satisfied so that Superman and the rest don't have to take time away from stopping whatever monster is kicking around in our neck of the universe. Make you, every man, women and child at home, feel safe. Now I don't mean by increasing surveillance or making it legal for the police to kick down your door at four in the morning. But mark my words, if you elect me…..I won't forget about you. Any of you…"

Carter couldn't bear to look at him any longer, not with the thunderous headache still eating away at his self-resolve. He nearly slammed his head into the podium as Kirkpatrick waved to the now completely swayed public, eating out of their support out of their hands like a starved animal.

He had lost. Spectacularly. And now there was nothing keeping him safe. No powerful barrier to keep the demons from finally catching up to him.

He had lost…

He should have listened to Waller's warnings…

…

…

…

Three Days Later….

Questions Journal, Entry Number 15-21-1219

Rain pelts the sidewalk. Can see people running for cover. Hands cover heads, people converge under umbrellas, dart through alley's and shops and everywhere in between. Trying to get out of the storm.

Fruitless. Pointless. Stupid.

None of us are safe. Conspiracy and darkness and death seep through every crack in the pavement, bubble through every drain, stare back at us in every reflection. Death. Can't escape it. Won't let us. But people are blind. They see the writing on the wall and they scream to the heavens for help. But it's the heavens that betray us. That torment us. There's no one to answer our calls, but they scream and pray and scream again anyways. Hope for answer. Receive only silence.

Never pay attention to the body on the sidewalk in front of them.

Blind. Deluded. Stupid.

Found two more bodies today. One was a detective. Jim Corrigan. Gruff looking, overweight but not enough to slow him down. Looked like he'd been through hell. They didn't do it though. Didn't kill him. Just some random punk with a gun.

Waste of life. Waste of flesh. Just a waste. No purpose, no reason. Family probably doesn't want to hear that, but they should know. Truth is truth. Black is black, white is white, pointless death is a pointless death.

Denial is delusion, and delusion is a disease. Sooner the world sees that, the sooner they'll stop laughing at the likes of me. Stop laughing of their own free will and wake up to the world that snarls at them.

Alternative is they stop laughing when the gun at their head finally fires.

Second body more perplexing. Standing over it now, blood nearly filling shoes as it pours from the cold corpse. No ID, no cards, custom made clothing.

Faceless.

Means he's important. Means that someone figured he needed to be underground. What for though? Protection? Judging from scene, looks that way.

Wound on neck. Sliced open by knife. Sharp knife. Most of blood loss comes from that one wound. Not the first injury though. Smoldering stump where hand used to be. Advanced weapon, very high tech. Very expensive. Meant to be a killing blow. Didn't do the job, needed to get up close. Finish him off. Just a wounded animal to them, walking slabs of meat ripe for harvest and cultivation.

Body contorted, trying to drag itself away. In shock most likely, unable to accept that it's approaching the end. Or…shocked at who pulled the trigger? Could he have been faceless to protect himself against them? Do they know?

Unlikely. No one knows. Only me. Only I put the pieces together. This man was probably as stupefied as the rest.

Now…just as dead as the rest.

Afraid. Desperate. Stupid.

Will get to the bottom of this. Only one who can. Everyone else too stupid, too blind. Those who aren't…too busy. Equally blind. My fight. Will find out what they want. Stop the killings. End the conspiracy.

If people don't want to accept that the thing staring back at them isn't their own reflection, or that the muck and gunk rising from the sewers isn't the puss of the human spirit dying, or that darkness closing in around them from every decrepit crevice isn't clawing for their last breath, then I will.

I'll be the guardian, for when the gods fail.

…

…

…

The Question rose from the battered body as a small sound echoed through the abandoned halls. Beneath his mask, Vic Sage's brow furrowed. It was probable that it was just the wind, or some misplaced cup tumbling off a precarious perch. But Question knew better than to assume something so benign. He was at a crime scene. A brutal, vicious, crime scene.

That narrowed down the reasonable options significantly.

He timidly stepped over the body and made his way into the darkened hallway, taking great care to soften his footfalls. He peered around the corner, straining his neck out of cover to get a better look. He was met with darkness, the only illumination in this wing of the building coming from the stray beams of moonlight streaking through a large window.

The coast seemed clear…for now…

Stepping into the dimly lit hallway, he crept towards where he thought he heard the noise. He leaned against the wall, sliding slowly down its lengthy shadows. He met only pure silence as he crept, even the particles of dust in the air seemingly remained suspended. Undisturbed.

Then…another crash. A faint one, barely registering over the sounds of a mouse scampering across the floor. But loud enough that the Question could hear it.

It emanated from behind a closed office door just up ahead of him, followed by the sound of scratching. Without thinking, Question quickened his pace, shuffling forward to the door. Deftly grasping the handle, he creaked open the door, glancing in cautiously.

Darkness. Only an open window, facing a non-descript, brick wall, and the shaded outline of a desk.

An empty room.

That is, until Question opened the door slightly wider, allowing a stray beam of moonlight to pour over a large, black box nestled against the side of the desk. Vic pushed the door open the rest of the way and entered the room, cautiously closing the distance between himself and the box. As he neared it, and his eyes adjusted to the blackness of the room, he noticed the advanced lock adorning its side.

A very advanced lock, containing security measures that he had only read about in science fiction fanzines. Someone would need a lot of money to afford something like that, a lot of resources…

Conceivably, they could afford an advanced weapon or two as well…

As his mind slowly connected the dots, he became aware of a presence behind him. A small clicking noise confirmed his senses, forcing him to tear his eyes away from the box and glance behind him. He saw a shadowy silhouette standing in the doorway, a sleek and glistening gun pointed at his head.

A very advanced looking gun.

He tried to leap out of the way of the projectile that was sure to come. Summersaulting through the air, he landed at the opposite end of the room, directly facing a wall. But the figure holding the gun was patient, too patient. The gun tracked his every move, followed him perfectly towards the wall. Now he was stuck, walled off in a corner.

He had failed.

He only saw the flash as every memory he ever held dear blink in and out of existence in his mind. A searing pain burned away at his mask.

Then, without warning, his world went black…

Damn conspiracy theorists...whenever they're right they always have to get killed. Way to be sucky at your job.

Anyways, that was the prologue, hope you liked it! It's a murder mystery, how couldn't you like it right? Right?

Right.

Feel free to let me know in the comment section, and as always, stay away from Objectivists with no faces.

Actually, just stay away from Objectivists period.

Also I'm fully aware that this is now the second story that I've started with a popular character getting murdered, however I don't yet feel like I need to visit a doctor. Of course if enough people disagree, maybe (just maybe) I'll check my self in and see if I don't have a debilitating bout of "I'm a deranged psychopath".

In fairness, psychopath's tend to write more interesting stories than you "normal" people, so...

Also, to all the American readers out there, as a respectful Canadian...thank you for sending us anthrax. That was very sweet of you. Granted a know I've made an anthrax joke or two here and there but still...