The trio — Wonder Woman, Green Lantern and Kara — were travelers from the future. With Batman's calculations and Flash's speed they had used a particle accelerator to step more than a decade back in time, to when the Justice League was barely a rumor. Something felt off the moment they arrived.
Where the Justice League Hall should have risen, a dilapidated building sagged against the sky. The sight left them unexpectedly quiet.
"I always heard my mother say that time is not something you can play with," Hal muttered. "Now I know what she meant."
"I need to check the era," Hal added, rubbing his chin. "Maybe we landed in some colonial backwater, or worse, the Great Depression. People were desperate then. No hope, no heroes."
Diana ignored the speculation. She frowned, scanned the surroundings, and strode toward the battered gate of the building that had once housed another generation of heroes. The iron gate yielded with a reluctant squeal. They stepped into the yard, but an old password lock barred the door.
"This is why vision-based abilities are useful," Kara said, activating Super Vision to read the faded fingerprint pressure patterns on the old lock. She worked through the combination, her fingers flying across the mechanism as if it were a puzzle.
"First number, six," she announced confidently. "My instincts are usually right. Once I used this trick to track a purple Owl—would have been hard to find otherwise."
Diana only watched, and with a swift motion she seized the lock. The mechanism shattered with a sharp crack. Sparks jumped from frayed wires. Kara stared at the ruined lock, half amused, half exasperated.
"You didn't think about alarms?" Kara asked.
"If an alarm draws people out, all the better. Saves me the trouble of searching," Diana said, dryly.
Kara blinked, still recovering. "You're positively brutal."
No alarm triggered. The three slipped into the dim corridor and followed it into a wide hall. In the centre sat a round table, covered by a white cloth. Portraits lined the pillars like sentinels from another age. Diana pulled the cloth away and the room's old lights grudgingly brightened.
Kara stopped at a portrait and squinted. "Who's this — a male version of Catwoman?"
"That is Ted Grant, called Wildcat," Diana said, her hand brushing decades of dust from the table. The name settled the era for them. "This place is older than the Justice League. It belongs to the Justice Society of America. They came before us and faded away."
Kara looked around, a new excitement in her voice. "I thought the League's base was the Watchtower. There's an earthbound headquarters too? I never heard of the Justice Society."
Hal wandered over to a battered piece of equipment and reached out. "What is this?"
He picked up a green lantern device, its wick blackened. "A Green Lantern—though it's damaged. I can sense residual energy from it. This must have belonged to Alan Scott," he added, recognizing the relic. "If someone could channel it, it might still power a ring."
Diana let the name sit a moment; history had weight in the room. "Good. This tells us when and where we are. Early twenty-first century, before the Justice League formed, and this is the JSA's hall." The three absorbed the quiet history of the place, the faces in the portraits watching like ghosts.
Kara grinned and nudged Hal. "We should go to Smallville. Clark and Adrian should still be in high school. As their older cousin, I get to torment them a little."
"Hold on," Hal said. "I have a question. You're sometimes called Superman's younger cousin and sometimes his older cousin — so are you the younger or older sister?"
"Older sister," Kara said without hesitation. Hal shrugged, then his eye caught on another object. He paused, then pointed toward a plaque.
"Look — history is messy, but it's here. People like Alan Scott and Ted Grant were the first generation. They carried the torch until later teams formed."
Diana's voice went softer. "We have to be careful. Time travel can change things in ways we cannot predict. We came here to fix a thread. Smallville is our next stop."
Smallville, Kansas, was quiet and ordinary from a distance, but at the site of the recent accident a neighborhood cluster of officers and onlookers had gathered. Officer Kendra stood at the edge, confronting a familiar and polished face: Lex Luthor. Lex wore his usual composure and a thin smile that never quite reached his eyes.
"Mr. Luthor, I know your influence, but you will not interfere with this investigation," Kendra warned. "If you try, you'll find the consequences are real."
Lex smiled and produced a land deed with casual efficiency. "Officer Kendra, I own the right to be here. I'll look around. I'm not preventing your work, I'm merely exercising my property rights."
She watched him go, uneasy. When Lex entered the cordoned area, the smell of blood hit him. The scene was brutal: a brawl, bloodstains on the pavement, overturned vehicles, shards of glass. Every detail pushed Lex to focus — was this an accident, or something more? He thought of the rumours about Clark and Adrian and felt a chill of calculating curiosity.
Nearby, Adrian had been leaving school when Dana from the baseball team approached him. "I saw you catch that ball from seventy yards. Teach me?" she asked, smiling. Adrian, used to bluntness, shot back with a comment meant to shut her down.
"If I were you I'd stay away—I don't want anyone getting hurt," he said, curt.
Dana misread his tone and kept teasing. "Oh really? Then maybe you haven't been punished enough."
A red flicker flashed across Adrian's eyes and, in an instant, Dana's skirt caught small, frightening flames. Screams scattered through the courtyard as she stomped at the hem, the fire snuffed quickly but the embarrassment obvious. Students gaped, whispered, and then crowded to watch. Adrian left without apology, moving through the growing commotion.
Two people blocked his path as he turned away. One was a golden-haired man, broad and confident. The other, a sharp-featured woman, watched him with a wary intensity.
"You are Adrian Kent?" the blond man asked.
Before Adrian could answer, the blond reached out. The moment his hand touched Adrian's shoulder, a shock of force slammed him back into a wall. He doubled over in pain, breath knocked out of him. Adrian did not linger. His strength, altered by recent events, had surprised both the attacker and the onlookers.
The blond coughed and staggered upright, a thrill of interest in his eyes rather than fear. "This man is dangerous," he admitted. His companion helped him up, her face set. "We've found something interesting."
Adrian walked away into the quieter streets, thinking of the brush with the other group and the strange sense of being watched. He would find somewhere isolated to teach them a lesson — but not here, not in front of the students.
Outside the noise of town, time and destiny pressed close. The past was a fragile thing, and the three visitors from the future had to tread carefully.
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