Disclaimer: Marvel characters, owned by and being abused/pissed on/used as political proxy by the assholes at Marvel Comics who seem to think political pandering is better than telling entertaining stories and treating their fans like shit is okay. DC characters, owned by Warner Brothers and DC comics (who, unlike Marvel, can tell decent stories and learned from some of the mistakes they made with New 52).

Author's Notes: Small update. Wasn't really motivated to write anything lately until I happened to stumble across the latest shit Nick Spencer and his glee club of the damned have been spewing out and trying to pass off as storytelling. Add in the whole "turning Deadpool and Punisher into Captain America's bitches" thing and Deadpool assassinating Coulson...well, I was pissed enough to write some more.

"Excuse me?" Clark wasn't quite sure he heard Jimmy correctly. "What do you mean you killed a lot of people?"

Jimmy hesitated for a moment, then his shoulders slumped slightly. "Some would argue that they were all aliens, Clark, but I didn't have much of a choice."

Clark looked at the younger man for a moment, comparing him to the kid he met nearly a decade ago and realized, after one look at Jimmy's eyes, that Jimmy Olsen was long gone. Instead, he saw the eyes and face of a man who had seen some terrible things, and perhaps had to make a tough call more than once.

Not unlike the face you see of the man every morning in the mirror when you shave, Clark thought to himself. Hell, I doubt Bruce could intimidate this man. Why hadn't I noticed the changes before?

The realization felt like a kick in the gut when Clark answered his own question.

Is it because of my duality as Superman and Clark Kent? Is it because I spend so much time as one that I treat the other like a mere facade and take the "normal setting" for granted?

Jimmy smirked at the older man. "What's the matter, Clark? Things start adding up?" He then shook his head. "I'm sorry...I don't mean to sound like an ass about it. And Colossus is right, I should at least try talking to you."

"You weren't hiding with the resistance, were you?" Clark asked, his eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion.

"Hiding?" Both men turned to see Elizabeth Braddock standing there in a purple evening gown with a wine glass in hand. "James Olsen didn't hide, he helped run the resistance."

"I think that would be exaggerating, Ms. Braddock," Jimmy said. "I only pitched in and helped when needed. The cell I was in was mostly support, nothing more."

"Is that what you call it?" Braddock asked, a knowing smile on her face. "As you know, certain members of my cell would disagree with you."

"All I did was start a few fires, vandalized a few structures, and blow up a few vehicles. Any poor schmuck could do that."

"That's like saying Batman is the least dangerous member of the Justice League," Braddock countered. "And we all know that's not true, don't we?" Clark noted that the woman was looking right at him when she said those last two words. Then her expression softened a little when he looked back to Jimmy. "You gave them hope, Olsen...even if you feel differently."

"It stuck me with a lame nickname," said Jimmy as he rolled his eyes. "I'm really going to strangle Osborne and Tolenski. Jimmy 'Daredevil' Olsen." He sighed and shook his head. "You slam a vehicle into a prison transport and you're branded for life."

"It didn't stop you from painting the letter 'D' or the word 'DARE' whenever your crew struck."

"That was Osborne's idea, not mine."

"But it wasn't Osborne who hit the detention center in the Bronx and liberated the prisoners. It wasn't Osborne who fought the garrison commander while calling for the approaching Atlantean forces to fire on his position."

Clark's mind started racing as he remembered some of the things Aquaman had told him.

"There was a surface dweller in the resistance, the Thanagarians referred to him as 'The Devil'. He talked to our forces briefly, telling them to track his signal and open fire once they had a lock."

"So he spotted for you."

"No, Superman, he was fighting the Thanagarian commander on top of their command cruiser that was hovering above the Hudson. My troopers confirmed seeing someone wearing damaged armor with a demonic look fighting the commander when they opened fire. They assumed his body went into the Hudson, along with the craft. We recovered the body of the Thanagarian commander and pieces of the unknown armor, but we didn't find the other body."

No, Clark thought, that can't be possible. Jimmy's not that kind of person. He may work out a lot, but he doesn't have the training or the physical abilities to do what Ms. Braddock is implying.

Then he remembered the comment made by the man called Colossus several minutes earlier.

"The Devil doesn't need help, Mr. Kent...not when he is perfectly capable of doing things on his own?"

Jimmy? What the hell happened to you?

"But it was your actions that inspired others, Mr. Olsen," Braddock continued. "The phrases 'Dare to defy' and 'Dare to resist' were everywhere. Daredevil wasn't one man by then, it was a movement. As for being called 'The Devil'...the Thanagarians were the ones who branded you with it."

Now Clark had heard of the "Daredevil" resistance group, it was a briefly covered by Lois shortly after the Thanagarians had left Earth. Though she managed to write a full article on it, she didn't have much solid evidence to go on other than the fact that it was linked to the mysterious winged metahuman known as Archangel. Even Lois admitted in her article that it was more like half-truth and half-speculation.

"Hold on," he finally said, "you're saying Jimmy was the man they called 'The Devil'? But that's-"

"That's what, Mr. Kent?" Braddock asked. "Impossible? Because he was just one of the 'mere mortals'?" She shook her head and laughed. "The Occupation changed a lot of people here in New York, Mr. Kent. It showed people who they really were and what 'mere mortals' were truly capable of while their so called gods up high were too busy to help them."

Clark's eyes narrowed in suspicion. This was the second time in the last couple minutes that Braddock hinted she knew more than she was telling. His suspicions were confirmed when he heard her voice in his head.

And you, Mr. Kent, actually feel guilty about that even though there really wasn't anything you could do about it. Relax...I'm not going to blow your secret identity to Jimmy here.

"What happened?" Clark asked Jimmy again, although his question was also meant for Braddock.

"It's kind of a funny thing, Clark," Jimmy said with a bitter laugh. "It's like something you see in a movie or read in book...some normal guy has one really bad day and it changes him forever. You dismiss shit like that as 'mere fantasy' or say 'That doesn't happen in the real world'."

He shook his head, briefly glancing down at the people dancing and celebrating in the atrium, before turning back to face the older man. "Then your world gets turned upside down and you've faced something you haven't before. Yeah, I've lived through a couple alien invasions, and I knew when I had to take cover and ride it out while waiting for Supes and the League to settle things...but it was different this time. This time, I was right in the middle of it.

"I didn't have time to hide, Clark. The Thanagarians came down, practically declaring martial law and rounding up citizens, particularly those they determined to be metahumans." Jimmy paused for a moment, a faraway look in his eyes as he stared at one of his hand for a moment. "Some of these people fought back...there was this girl, she couldn't have been much older than me. Saved my life, but she ended up bleeding out in my arms. After that...I was pretty much involved."

For several seconds, nothing was said as Clark mentally processed what Jimmy told him.

"Sorry," Jimmy finally said. "It's not something I feel like talking about Clark, not here, not now. All I can tell you is that the last year since the occupation has had me living a lie. I mean, I go through two months of hell, then it's like the rest of the world suddenly goes back to normal except for me and I can't just slip back into the routine without feeling that I'm just dead inside while going through the motions of pretending nothing has changed."

Clark remained silent for a few more seconds, once again studying his young friend and wondering how he could have missed the clues. That was he noticed Jimmy absentmindedly rubbing his chest. Once again, he briefly used his X-Ray vision and saw the jagged scar that started right below Jimmy's throat and continued down his chest and abdomen. He barely managed to keep from reacting in shock, though he was certain that Braddock knew what he was thinking.

Jimmy, what the hell did they do to you?

MaxCon Executive Offices

Upper Level, MaxCon Building

After waiting for half an hour in the outer office, Bruce Wayne was now certain that Worthington and MaxCon were more than what they appeared to be. Just from the layout alone and spotting the numerous "hidden" security measures and two "false" wall panels, he couldn't help feeling a sense of familiarity. It almost felt like he was in one of his own buildings except for the MaxCon logo on the walls. The logo seemed to be emblazoned everywhere as if it were screaming "look at us, we are big, bold, and can't be ignored". It was almost as if MaxCon was going out of their way to appear larger than life and in everyone's faces.

The Maximoff twins and Worthington come off as being arrogant and cocky, but this building alone tells me that we only see what they want us to see. An effective tactic...I should know since I use it myself.

The door to the inner office opened to reveal Wanda Maximoff standing there. "Mr. Wayne, thank you for coming." She stepped aside to let Bruce enter.

The moment he entered the office, Bruce stopped in his tracks as he saw the others inside. One of them was an older man that he recognized as Professor Erik Lensherr from Gotham University, seated in a chair flanked by Peter Maximoff and Wanda who moved to stand next to her brother after she closed the door.

Sitting off to the side from Lensherr was a man with gray hair and in his mid-fifties. It took him a moment, but Bruce recognized the man as Adrian Toomes, a former aerospace engineer and criminal known as The Vulture. However, Bruce was also aware that Toomes had been retired since the end of the occupation and had taken a job with Farris Aerospace as an engineering consultant.

But what got Bruce's attention was the blond haired man standing behind a desk, wearing an Italian made suit that was similar in style to Bruce's except for the fact that a pair of metallic wings extended from his back and through holes slit in his clothing.

"Hello, Bruce," Warren Worthington the Third said in greeting. "I think it's time we all had a chat."