A bullet of angst shot through a man of black capes and his punch shook he metallic wall, singing violently from the impact. Alarms shrieked and red lights hyped on hysteria flashed and flashed and the space tower locked in defense mode. He paused—his head clasped by his hands tore his black mask and slipped down his body, falling hopelessly against the control deck. He hunched forward. His back was like a wall to the others who were cladded like soldiers, standing in their trench on the frontlines.
He lashed back in anger, "Did you not hear me?! Secure the boundaries! Now!”
They knew him as the hero of Gotham, and WonderGirl and the Lantern, dressed in their reds and blues and greens, starred at him for a moment, almost begging him for a last word other than “get the hell out of here!”
“Did you not hear me?!”
They hopelessly turned from their leader, pacified each other with brief solemn nod, grasped their breathing-masks, fastened the plastic around their mouths, and shot out to the hell on the verge of breaking loose: the stars fled from the sky, leaving behind tale of spiraling smoke. The sky wept and wept with inky blackness trying to hold her galaxy together in the midst of her distress. Hiding itself in shadows, the cratered moon hid behind the Earth, and that Earth was fixed in a position where she could not avert her eyes: a damsel, witnessing the attack of her protectors.
Batman darted to the Ops computer screen, dodging the sudden shutting doors and violently slammed his fingertips upon the keyboard, anxiety induced, yet determination on high! Under the suspense of time falling from their fingertips, Superman rushed to Batman.
No answer—just typing and typing and typing.
"Dammit! Leave me!” He continued his furious typing, "Evacuate the others!” The anxiety danced within Batman's mind, manipulating his usual perfection to make mistakes within his message. Words spewed throughout his head, his "w's" became "q's," his formality shattering with each passing moment. If there is a chance, it has to be taken!: A treaty proposal? T-o t-h-e G-r-a-n-d R-u-l-e-r o-f T-a-m-a-r-a-n…
Outside the heroes hovered in the low-gravity, strong in position, weak in faith. The eerie quiet suppressed them to accept the sensation of solemnness.
"…by the looks of the building lights, I'd say we have less than three minutes…" Diana spoke into her device encased in her suit. It was quiet. Space was usually quiet. It was supposed to be quiet. Yet, insanity and chaos, tainted by a trace of hope burned throughout their position, dangling in the zero gravity somewhere in the sky. They could hear their heart beat, or at least feel it hard enough to remember the sound. The sound—the sound of a heart is almost as familiar as the sound of fighting to a superhero.
In the distance, the crescendo of sound and light crept up like a deadly white comet. A shriek of thunder shattered the horizon! Bursts of blinding white lights from a series of supernovas conquered the sky, spewing purple-armored aliens into the galaxy. The heart-throbbing anxiety! Like a thunderhead descending forth, an army charged.
The friends dared to look each other in the eyes.
"Good luck to you.”