LiBaG: Emergence 2.21a (Patreon)

Fourteen hours.

That’s how long it had been since the outpost in Bialya burned. Since the fight. Since the weight of Superboy and Aqualad’s unconscious bodies nearly caved Zeke’s spine in. Since the mystery bike carried them across the desert, smooth as a self-driving Tesla but way less cursed-looking. Since the fire and smoke and the suffocating heat roared in his ears as he walked away without looking back.

And now, fourteen hours later, here he was.

Back in Mount Justice.

Standing dead center in the mission room, under lights too bright, in space too open, feeling like an animal on display. The League’s holographic console flickered beside him, displaying the wreckage of the Bialyan facility in crisp, sterile detail, like a crime scene photo waiting to be dissected.

The Team was behind him, mostly quiet.

Aqualad wasn’t here. The leader was still in Atlantis, still recovering from the hell that was yesterday. Troia wasn’t here either. The Amazon was in Themyscira, same deal, only she had a gutshot to heal from Everyone else was accounted for, either standing or seated, all listening.

And sitting in front of him—analyzing him, stripping him down to nothing with their stares—were nine of the most powerful people on Earth.

Batman. Superman. Wonder Woman. Aquaman. Martian Manhunter. Captain Atom. Black Canary. Green Arrow. Red Tornado.

They were watching.

Listening.

Waiting for answers.

Zeke had thought—maybe—he’d feel nervous. Maybe a little starstruck.

Nah.

Nothing.

Just tension, pressing into his ribs like a slow-building headache.

His voice stayed even as he recounted everything. The mission. The odd signals that led them there. The ambush. The memory wipe. The brainwashing. The fight. The bodies hitting the floor.

And then—

Queen Bee.

He didn’t hesitate, didn’t let the silence drag too long. Kept it factual, clipped, precise.

The base. Collapsing.

The fire.

The heat.

The escape.

He met their gazes without flinching, shoulders squared, spine straight.

"And that’s it," Zeke finished, voice deliberately measured. "She didn’t make it out." There was silence for a moment.

Then…

“Clarify,” Batman said, voice unreadable.

Zeke blinked once. “Sir?”

“You’re saying Queen Bee perished in the collapse?” Martian Manhunter’s voice was calm, but there was a weight to it, a steady pressure behind his words.

Zeke barely kept his jaw from locking. "That’s what happens when buildings burn down on top of people."

Superman frowned slightly at those words but didn’t comment.

“Was she conscious when you last saw her?” Wonder Woman asked, the Amazon’s voice calm as the question left her lips.

Zeke exhaled slowly, keeping his tone even. “Yes.”

“And yet, you left her,” Aquaman said, not an accusation, just stating the fact out loud.

“Yeah,” Zeke said. “I did.”

The room shifted slightly. The weight in the air felt heavier now, like they were waiting for him to justify it, like they expected some kind of admission of guilt.

Zeke’s fingers twitched at his sides.

“I had two unconscious teammates and a burning building coming down around me,” he said, gaze flicking from one League member to the next. “She was the enemy combatant responsible for everything that happened. I made a call. We got out. That’s the end of it.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Zeke turned his head.

Batman’s gaze was sharp, unreadable, cutting through every word.

“You left her in a burning building,” Batman said, no heat in his voice, but the flat, calm, direct way he spoke didn’t need any anger to be effective.

Zeke’s fingers curled into fists.

“So what?” he shot back before he could stop himself.

Superman’s expression darkened just slightly.

“There were other options,” Batman continued, tone unwavering. “You could have attempted to-”

“To what?” Zeke snapped, nearly flinching as he realized he interrupted the Batman. Unwilling to stop now, he continued. “To save her? Drag her out so she could try to brainwash us again? So she could walk free the second Bialya makes a diplomatic excuse?”

“Saving her wouldn’t mean letting her walk,” Black Canary interjected, voice steady, but firm. “We could have detained her.”

Zeke let out a breath, sharp and tired. “Yeah? And how was I supposed to do that, exactly? Carry her? In case you forgot, I already had two unconscious teammates on my back.” His tone edged toward incredulous, his patience wearing thin.

Captain Atom exhaled. “We aren’t questioning your ability to carry her, Ezekiel,” he said, and from the way his jaw clenched, Zeke could tell he’d rather not be having this conversation. “We’re simply trying to understand your decision not to.”

Zeke scoffed under his breath, shaking his head. Fair enough.

“The place was coming down, and her last words weren’t even an apology,” he said, voice cold. “She was still trying to control me.”

“…You weren’t supposed to decide that,” Batman said, voice flat.

Zeke let out a sharp breath, not quite a laugh. “Oh, so I was supposed to risk my life for her?”

Batman didn’t answer.

Zeke huffed, low and bitter. “Right. Figures.”

Then—

“Wait.”

Robin’s voice, low and sharp. Zeke barely stopped himself from tensing.

Robin leaned forward, studying him, mouth set in a flat line that wasn’t comforting in the slightest. “So you didn’t even try to save her?”

Zeke’s jaw clenched.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Artemis muttered. “Let it go, Boy Wonder.”

Miss Martian frowned, arms crossed tight. “He had no choice.”

Superboy, silent this whole time, exhaled sharply. “He made the right call.” No hesitation. No doubt. Just the simple, unshakable certainty of someone who knew.

Robin’s gaze flicked to him, unimpressed. “That’s not our call to make.”

Zeke’s patience was razor-thin. “The only call I made was the only one in front of me,” he said, voice measured, clipped, precise. “And I don’t regret it.”

Kid Flash scoffed, throwing up his hands. “Dude. Seriously?”

Zeke turned his head, voice cooling into something sharp, something with edges. “Yeah, Wally. Seriously.”

Kid Flash exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair, like he was trying not to start something. “That’s not how this works, man.”

“Oh, really?” Zeke tilted his head, voice unreadable. “Then tell me how it’s supposed to work. ‘Cause from where I’m standing? We’re shoved into international black-ops missions, left to fend for ourselves against terrorists and war criminals, and now I’m supposed to be held accountable when one of them doesn’t make it?”

“That’s what heroes do,” Wally snapped.

Zeke’s patience snapped with it.

“Oh, shut up, Wally!” His voice hitched, full of something sharp and exhausted. “All you do is run your mouth, and for what?!” He threw out his hands. “You don’t even think before you talk! I made a call! You weren’t there!”

Wally’s face twisted, caught between anger and something else.

Robin cut in. “But you were,” he said, voice firm. “How do you call yourself a hero when—”

“Oh, bite me, man.”

The room froze.

Robin’s expression hardened.

The Team shifted behind him, M’gann’s brows furrowing, Artemis blinking in mild shock, Superboy suddenly looking a lot more awake.

Zeke’s hands curled into fists. "Are you serious right now? We barely made it out alive. I was carrying two people through a burning, collapsing military base, and you—" He let out a sharp, angry exhale, pressing a hand to his forehead. “You’re really sitting here acting like I had options?”

Robin didn’t back down. "We don’t get to decide who lives and who dies."

Superboy’s voice smashed through the tension like a hammer.

“Back off.”

Everyone turned.

Superboy’s arms were crossed tight, his stance rigid, jaw set like stone. “He did the mission. We all made it out. What else was he supposed to do?”

“Try,” Robin shot back.

“Oh, screw you, dude,” Artemis snapped, the archer suddenly on her feet, glaring between him and Wally. “If it were me lying half-dead in Zeke’s arms, I hope he wouldn’t waste time trying to drag some mind-controlling psychopath out with us.”

Wally raised his hands. “Guys. I’m just saying—”

Zeke cut him off. "Don’t, then."

Wally flinched, barely masking it with an awkward shrug. "Alright, alright. Chill, dude. Just saying, if this gets out—"

Zeke let out a harsh, humorless laugh.

“Oh, right. Yeah. Let’s talk about that. If this gets out… This covert ops team.” His voice dripped sarcasm, his expression twisting. “Because that’s what we are, right? Covert?" He made air quotes as he stared Wally down. "Yeah, totally, dude. That’s what we are."

The League shifted slightly. Batman’s expression remained unreadable. Black Canary’s lips pressed into a firm line.

Zeke didn’t care.

“What’s covert about this?” He turned, eyes blazing. “We’ve been on live TV. We fought villains in front of a power plant. We’ve been involved in full-blown disasters. We’ve fought terrorist organizations and alien invaders. With zero backup." His voice was rising now, frustration boiling over. "We do missions with our emblems on our chests! Come on, man!"

Robin opened his mouth, but Zeke wasn’t done.

“And now, now you wanna talk about morality? Now you wanna get on me about saving the villain?” He scoffed, shaking his head, disbelief curling in his gut like something rotten. “Where was that energy when they brainwashed all of us? Where was it when they wiped our memories? Where was it when we were fighting for our lives while the League was nowhere?”

Batman’s expression didn’t change, but something shifted in the air.

No one answered.

Zeke exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders, forcing the tension out of his muscles before he threw himself headfirst into another argument. No one else spoke.

And Zeke didn’t care.

Kid Flash shifted uncomfortably, hands shoved deep into his pockets, like he was physically stopping himself from running his mouth again. M’gann glanced toward Superboy, something uncertain flickering across her face. Artemis hadn’t sat back down yet.

Zeke turned sharply to Robin next.

“And you,” he said, voice cutting. “Spare me the self-righteous, Bat-brand justice speech.”

Robin’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t respond.

“That’s enough,” Captain Atom said, firm, final.

Zeke gritted his teeth. His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out the thick, suffocating silence pressing into his skull. He turned toward his mentor, his voice coming out flat, quiet, strained. “Sir, may I be excused?”

Captain Atom studied him for a long moment. Then nodded. “Go ahead, son.”

Zeke didn’t wait for a second confirmation. He darted toward the Cave exit at a dead sprint, ignoring the calls behind him from his teammates, barely processing anything beyond the sheer frustration pounding through his skull.

The second he cleared the mountain’s doors, the sidekick looked skyward and—

"MANA THRUSTERS!"

Launched himself.