An awkward silence loomed over the assembled members of the Justice League, gathered on the highest roof in Metropolis. It was the highest remaining roof in Metropolis, at least, which wasn't saying much. None of the skyscrapers or high-rise buildings had escaped the incredibly destructive defense of the city. Not even the Daily Planet's famous rooftop globe remained atop its original mounting. Ringless, that sphere slowly rolled along the streets, crushing everything in its path. At its speed, bumping into a single car probably would have stopped it and saved the city millions on replacing hydrants, trees on the medians and the occasional street sign.
There wasn't a single car or truck left in Metropolis. The Justice League were the only life for miles around the destroyed city. Batman had foreseen the extent of the day's chaos and had made sure it was evacuated well in advance; the few stragglers were removed by Superman and the Martian Manhunter as they were found. Not a single human had died in the terrible destruction, and not a single one of the invading aliens remained. There just wasn't much of a city left in the aftermath.
"Well," the Flash spoke up, finally breaking their five straight minutes of silence. "That could have gone much worse." Someone chuckled wearily at that, though most of the group grunted or sighed. The red speedster wasn't wrong and they were all grateful for the averted crisis, but most of America wouldn't be patting their backs for a job well done. Usually governments quietly took care of the collateral damage left by the League's heroes, but when it got to
this
extent... they had to take responsibility for their actions. It was just the right thing to do.
Except most superheroes didn't have vast amounts of wealth at their immediate disposal. Many of them didn't deal with money at all, having their needs provided by the League or some other sponsor. In a pinch, any one of them could walk into just about any restaurant under their protection and get a free meal without anyone asking them to pay. Most of their costumes, after all, left nothing to the imagination and
very
few places for them to keep a wallet.
Almost all of the League's heroes were warriors and peacekeepers. None of them liked taking time away from the areas under their protection to try and figure out how they would pay for massive collateral damage. Early on in the League's history, they decided to simply write their names down and pick one at random out of Batman's cowl. Whomever had their name drawn would be responsible for fundraising. These days, Cyborg used a complicated algorithm to pick a name at true random.
(Actually, he Googled a random number generator and numbered his allies by when they joined the League. He left one name off that list, naturally.)
Everyone's attention slowly drifted to the man of the moment, who closed his eyes for several seconds. "Alright," he said as he popped them back open. "Wonderwoman's turn."
Diana didn't mind at all. "I'll see to it at once," the Princess of the Amazons declared confidently.
***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-***-**
Metropolis' municipal government got back to Diana quickly with their estimate. They would require seven trillion dollars to rebuild the city, a truly staggering number that made her eyes widen in surprise. That was...
far
more money than she thought it would be. Far more money than she could even conceive, truthfully. How many warehouses could you fill with seven trillion dollars? Were they literally going to rebuild the city with recycled one dollar bills?
"That can't be right," she told the bored pencil-pushing clerk when she had gotten over that surprise.
What Diana never learned was that she was right -- it wasn't. Metropolis' mayor had given the clerk simple instructions: start at seven trillion. Expect the Justice League to haggle. Accept nothing less than two trillion. The city spent an obscene amount of money on insurance because of Superman's presence; the Man of Steel accidentally destroyed whole city blocks as easily as anyone else might step on a snail on a rainy day. If they were being honest with Diana, they would have told her off the bat that the repairs were a little less than a trillion and completely covered.
The mayor had good intentions, at least. Two trillion dollars would cover a
lot
of new social programs for the city, programs that would genuinely help people. The money would house and feed the homeless, improve schools... too many programs to count. It would also guarantee he won the coming election, where he was currently polling terribly.
"Sorry," the clerk said with a shrug, disinterested in the conversation or even the haggling. "It is what it is. Maybe you should be more careful next time." That earned him a hard look from Diana, and in her costume that drilled right through his boredom. He swallowed and began to capitulate. "Look, I'll--"
"It will take some time," Diana said, too proud to even consider haggling, "but Metropolis will get its money." Though there was a hint of irritation in her expression, she didn't express it any further than that.
"Uh... sure." The clerk stared after her. It took him a few minutes to get over what had just happened, but eventually he picked up his phone and called his boss to give him the good news. The mayor heaped praise upon him for his hard work, of course, and expressed his gratitude further with a chunky bonus and a promotion.
The new treasurer of Metropolis felt guilty, but not so guilty that he didn't go on to abuse the position he had absolutely zero training for.