It was a monster, straight from any nightmare she'd held as a child. Twisted, screaming, it charged after Clark again and again, and Mack could only watch as the Gotham Bat and a mysterious woman took turns wailing on it. She still gripped the spear tightly in her hands, unsure if her gut feeling was correct until Clark crashed to the ground near her.

"Clark!" Mack couldn't control the fear in her voice as he stood up, eyes locking with her own before dropping to the weapon. He was in front of her then, already looking sick as he took the spear from her. "Wait, don't." She gripped it a bit tighter, though she knew there was nothing she could actually do to stop him. He met her gaze again, and she could see a finality in them that made her stomach turn. "Don't do this." He easily pulled the weapon from her grasp, looking weaker by the second. Whatever this spear was, whatever the Bat had designed clearly had an effect on the man she had once viewed as immortal. If they made it out of this, she would be sure to destroy it, no matter what it took.

"I love you, Mack." The words were murmured, almost too quiet to be heard above the chaos surrounding them, and her heart skipped a beat. He was gone before she could reply, hurtling towards the monster with the spear. He hit home, aim perfect as the beast began to scream. They all could only watch as the beast impaled Clark as it's final action, the two of their screams drowning out anything else and searing themselves into her brain. The silence that reigned when the two of them fell was total, and Mack began to run, hoping against hope that Clark could have survived the attack, that they could save him. She reached them as the woman was lowering the body to the ground, and Mack nearly threw up at the sight of the gaping wound in his chest. The finality hit her and she began to sob, cradling his head in her lap as the two other fighters watched on.

The funeral was held at his family home, and Mack did her best to stay strong for Mama Kent. The woman was distraught, and Mack wondered if, like her, his mother had always believed that nothing would be able to take him from her. Everyone was respectful, and had nothing but wonderful things to say about the hero, though most didn't know who he was. Across the country, she knew Washington was hosting their own funeral, the kind reserved for presidents and other leaders. She'd caught part of the procession on the news, saw the sleek, black coffin they had picked, along with the uncharacteristically red tombstone they had made for the burial in Arlington. Mack found herself upstairs, allowing her tears to flow freely as she thought over those last moments with Clark, his admission. There was a knock at the door, and Mama Kent opened it slowly as Mack swiped at her face.

"Hey honey." Mama Kent gave her a strained smile, and Mack's gaze was drawn to the package in her hand. "I think...he would have liked you to have this." The older woman handed the package to Mack. Slowly, she opened it, revealing his uniform; it was clean, free of the tear where his wound had been. Gently, carefully, Mack ran her fingers over the insignia on the chest. "A kind man named Bruce sent it. Said it didn't belong in some stuffy museum, it belonged at home."

"Oh, Mama, I couldn't." Mack's voice was harsh from the crying, and she cleared her throat.

"It's what he would have wanted." The older woman gave a watery smile, and Mack was quick to pull her into a tight hug. They stayed like that for a few minutes before Mama Kent pulled away, wiping gently at the tears that had begun to fall again. "Come on. It's time." Mack's heart leapt into her chest as she re-wrapped the uniform and headed down the stairs. A neighboring farmer had kindly offered his wagon to transport Clark's body to the graveyard. Mack was surprised to find a local bagpiper, and he played as they moved Clark to his final resting place. As he was lowered in carefully, movement caught Mack's eye; turning, she saw a man standing at a distance, watching the ceremony. She waited until everyone had wandered off, talking amongst themselves, before walking over. A woman had joined them, and Mack's eyes widened. Bruce Wayne and the woman from the battle were both here, both looking on with distant looks.

"Mr. Wayne?" His gaze moved to hers, and he automatically offered a hand.

"Ms. Jennings. We're sorry for your loss." She shook his hand, giving him a confused look. "I realize I may look a bit different from my darker alter ego." It took a few seconds before it registered and Mack's eyes widened.

"You're the Gotham Bat." She kept her voice down and he nodded, gesturing towards the woman next to him.

"And this is Diana Prince." The women exchanged greetings and handshakes and Mack sighed.

"Thank you, for coming. And, I assume, you're the one who repaired his uniform." At Bruce's nod, she gave a small smile. "I think Clark would have been happy to know that he was wrong about you. That you aren't some monster to be stopped." Taking a deep breath, Mack looked back towards the grave, noting the men who were beginning to fill the hole.

"He was a valiant warrior." Diana's voice held the most intriguing accent, bringing Mack's attention back to the two of them. "He served with honor." Someone about the woman struck Mack as older than she looked, and she gave a nod.

"Now, Ms. Jennings, I understand you are an administrative assistant." Mack gave the billionaire a confused look and a slow nod.

"Yeah, but I'm not sure why-"

"I'd like to hire you." His face was straight, and there was no way the man would play a joke on her now of all times.

"Is this really the time or the place, Mr. Wayne?" Mack let the ice she felt slip into her tone, and Diana gave her an impressed look.

"I understand this isn't a normal request at such an event. But we're going to need any help we can get." Both women looked at Bruce now, even as his gaze took on a far away quality. "Something is coming. I can't explain it, but I can feel it. We need to prepare." The somber tone to his voice was what won Mack over, and she gave the two of them a concerned look.

"What exactly do you need?"