(A night unlike any other—the air crackles with tension, a storm of cosmic significance brewing in the shadows.)
Gotham breathes uneasily. The hum of life—car horns, distant sirens, hurried footsteps—feels muted, as if the city itself senses something is coming. Rain glistens against neon lights, pooling in cracks along worn pavement.
Then—an explosion, sharp and unnatural.
Screams ripple through the streets as Green Lantern streaks across the skyline, emerald light cutting through the dark. Batman, ever the shadow, maneuvers below—silent, focused. Their target is a Parademon, wild and frantic, screeching as it leaps between rooftops.
Batman's voice is a sharp whisper over comms.
BATMAN:It's heading east. Fast.
Green Lantern twists mid-air, constructing a glowing barricade ahead of their target—a Parademon, screeching as it leaps over the barrier.
GREEN LANTERN:You're gonna make me do all the work, huh?
Batman doesn't answer. He dives, grappling toward the rooftop ahead, boots hitting concrete just as the creature lands. Its eyes flicker—hunting, searching—as if it's signaling something far larger than itself.
In an alley nearby, a young man stumbles, catching his shoulder against the curb. He lifts his gaze—just as a fire escape trembles overhead, ready to collapse.
There's no warning. No dramatic intervention. Only the subtle shift of fate.
A loose brick, forgotten by time, falls just right—striking metal and redirecting the collapse toward an abandoned dumpster instead of the street. The young man scrambles away, unaware that reality itself just bent in his favor.
The Parademon, wild and frantic, leaps across rooftops, its movements erratic, its purpose unknown. Batman follows from below, silent, calculating. Green Lantern streaks through the sky, his emerald light cutting through the dark.
GREEN LANTERN:You sure this thing's not one of yours?
Batman doesn't answer. His focus is locked on the creature—its movements aren't random. It's going somewhere.
The Parademon dives, crashing through a warehouse window. Batman follows, landing with practiced precision. Green Lantern hovers above, scanning the wreckage.
Then—a pulse of energy.
A device, humming with alien technology, sits in the center of the room. Its glyphs shift, pulsing in a rhythm that feels alive.
BATMAN:(low, calculating)It's activating something.
Green Lantern's ring flares, feeding him fragmented data.
GREEN LANTERN:I'm picking up dimensional signals… but this thing's like an open door.
The Parademon screeches, its body convulsing. The hum grows louder.
Then—it self-destructs.
The explosion rips through the warehouse, sending debris flying. Batman dives, shielding himself behind a steel beam. Green Lantern constructs a barrier, absorbing the blast.
Smoke settles. The device remains—untouched.
Batman steps forward, his gaze locked on the cube.
BATMAN:Not just a door. A message.
The warehouse feels still, despite the lingering smoke curling in the air. Outside, Gotham's storm rumbles, distant but heavy, as if the city itself is bracing for what comes next.
Green Lantern shakes off the dust from the explosion, his ring still glowing faintly. Batman, ever composed, is already examining the cube. The rhythmic pulse beneath its surface feels wrong—alive, but not in a way either of them can place.
GREEN LANTERN:Alright, that was weird. But this—this thing's even worse.
He gestures at the cube, scanning it with his ring. Data flickers across his mind's eye—half readings, incomplete patterns.
GREEN LANTERN:I'm picking up dimensional readings. High-energy signals, but scrambled. It's like—(pauses)It's waiting for something.
Batman doesn't respond immediately. He studies it in silence, his fingers hovering just close enough to feel the residual heat from its glow.
BATMAN:(low, measured)This isn't just a device.
Green Lantern exhales sharply, circling the cube.
GREEN LANTERN:Yeah, well, it's not exactly a magic eight-ball either. So what do we do—break it? Take it with us? Call the cops?
Batman's gaze doesn't waver. He's already calculating, mapping out possibilities.
BATMAN:We don't destroy it.
Green Lantern raises an eyebrow, arms crossed.
GREEN LANTERN:Okay, detective, then what?
Batman straightens, his voice as sharp as the storm brewing outside.
BATMAN:We take it with us. And we find out who's already listening.
Outside, the rain picks up, tapping against shattered windowpanes. Something unseen shifts.
Far from the chaos of Metropolis, Gotham, and the invasion above, there exists a small pocket of peace—a quiet restaurant bathed in warm, golden light.
A soft glow spills through the restaurant's rain-streaked windows. The world outside is restless—sirens wailing in Gotham, skies breaking apart in Metropolis—but here, the air remains still, steeped in the scent of old wood, fresh coffee, and simmering broth.
Elric moves behind the counter, hands steady, posture precise, a presence as constant as the walls around him. His motions are calculated, deliberate, yet effortless. A flick of his wrist as he stirs a pot—a slight tilt of his fingers as he sets a plate down—small, barely perceptible shifts.
Elsewhere, far beyond his walls, reality adjusts in tandem.
The Miracles Unfold
Metropolis: A chunk of debris, loosened by battle, hurtles downward—until a gust of wind shifts it just slightly, causing it to land in an abandoned alley instead of the crowded street.
Gotham: A panicked civilian trips mid-sprint, their foot catching on rubble—until the rain gathers in just the right way, making the pavement slick enough to allow them to slide free instead of falling into harm's path.
Washington, D.C.: A soldier in the midst of chaos raises his weapon, fear clouding his judgment—until an unexpected glint of light catches his eye, making him hesitate long enough to see the truth: a civilian, not an enemy.
Back in the restaurant, Elric exhales, his fingers pausing briefly on the rim of a porcelain cup. His gaze flickers—not outward, not inward, but somewhere in between.
Outside, the storm continues. The world remains unaware.
But the balance shifts, ever so slightly.
Batman and Green Lantern arrive in Metropolis, carrying the Mother Box.
Metropolis is alive, its skyline gleaming under the storm-heavy sky. Unlike Gotham's shadows, this city hums with energy—bright, structured, confident. But tonight, something feels off.
The streets are quieter than usual. The air is charged, thick with an unseen tension. The hum of the Mother Box pulses faintly in Batman's grip, its rhythm unsettling, like a heartbeat out of sync.
Green Lantern hovers beside him, his ring scanning the device.
GREEN LANTERN:Still picking up dimensional signals. Whatever this thing is, it's not from around here.
Batman doesn't respond. His focus is locked ahead—on the figure standing in the distance, watching them.
Superman.
Superman steps forward, his silhouette cutting through the mist. His eyes glow faintly red, scanning the two figures before him.
SUPERMAN:You're not from here.
Green Lantern scoffs, his ring flaring.
GREEN LANTERN:Neither are you, big guy.
Batman remains still, analyzing Superman's stance, his breathing, the way the city itself seems to react to his presence.
The Mother Box hums louder.
Superman's gaze flickers to the device. His posture shifts—tense, defensive.
SUPERMAN:Where did you get that?
Green Lantern raises an eyebrow.
GREEN LANTERN:Oh, so you do know what it is.
Superman steps forward, his voice firm.
SUPERMAN:Give it to me.
Batman tightens his grip.
BATMAN:Not until we know what it does.
The tension snaps.
Superman moves first—fast, faster than either of them expect. In an instant, he's in front of Batman, reaching for the Mother Box.
Green Lantern reacts, his ring constructing a barrier between them.
GREEN LANTERN:Whoa, whoa—easy there!
Superman doesn't hesitate. He shatters the construct with a single strike, sending Green Lantern skidding backward.
Batman dives, rolling into position, throwing a smoke pellet to obscure Superman's vision. But it barely slows him down.
SUPERMAN:You don't understand what you're holding.
Green Lantern grits his teeth, launching a barrage of energy constructs—chains, walls, restraints—all shattered in seconds.
GREEN LANTERN:Okay, seriously—what is your deal?!
Batman moves fast, using the distraction to reposition. He's not trying to win—he's trying to analyze, to understand Superman's limits.
Then—a gust of wind, unnatural yet imperceptible, shifts the trajectory of a stray energy blast. Instead of hitting a nearby building, it veers just slightly, harmlessly dissipating into the sky.
The battle between Superman, Batman, and Green Lantern has left cracks in the pavement, shattered glass in the air, and tension thick enough to choke the city.
Green Lantern grits his teeth, dodging another strike from Superman. His ring flares, constructing a barrier, but Superman shatters it effortlessly.
GREEN LANTERN:(into comms, breathless)Barry, I need backup. Now.
A gust of wind. A blur of red lightning.
Then—The Flash is here.
He stops just long enough to take in the scene—Batman calculating, Green Lantern struggling, Superman tense, ready to strike again.
FLASH:Whoa, whoa—what did I miss?
Green Lantern gestures wildly.
GREEN LANTERN:Big guy here doesn't like questions. Just hit him!
Flash barely has time to react before Superman moves, faster than expected.
Superman swings—but Flash is gone before the strike lands. He reappears behind him, tapping his shoulder.
FLASH:Gotta be quicker than that.
Superman adjusts, tracking Flash's movements. His eyes glow faintly red.
Flash moves again, zigzagging across the battlefield, testing Superman's reflexes. But Superman is learning, adapting.
Then—a gust of wind, imperceptible yet precise, shifts the trajectory of Superman's next strike. Instead of landing a direct hit, his fist clips the edge of Flash's shoulder, just enough to send him skidding but not enough to break him.
Batman watches, calculating. He steps forward, voice sharp, commanding.
BATMAN:Enough.
Superman hesitates. Flash slows. Green Lantern exhales.
Batman lowers his stance, speaking with measured control.
BATMAN:We're not enemies. We need to work together.
The tension lingers, but the fight is over.
~~~~
The hum of machines filled the sterile air of S.T.A.R. Labs. Silas Stone adjusted his instruments, gaze locked onto the Mother Box, its glyphs shifting unpredictably. Across the room, Victor leaned against the counter, arms crossed.
"You sure this thing isn't dangerous?"
Silas exhaled, tapping a few controls. "Everything is dangerous if you don't understand it."
The pulse changed. The hum grew louder, erratic. Victor pushed off the counter, instincts flickering to life.
"Uh… Dad?"
Silas studied the shifting patterns. The device wasn't responding to them—it was reacting to something else entirely. Then, across the city, the second Mother Box flared, its glow intensifying in Batman's grip.
The pulse quickened.
Reality tilted.
The room ripped open.
A Parademon burst forth, its screech splitting the silence. The lab erupted—alarms blared, sparks scattered. Victor moved on instinct, shielding himself, but the blast followed.
Energy detonated outward, engulfing him. His body collapsed, pain radiating through every nerve as the alien force tore into his flesh.
Silas froze, breath caught. His son—his only son—was dying.
Across Washington, Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor braced for impact as Parademons descended. Soldiers raised weapons—until an unseen glint of light shifted, making them hesitate just long enough to see truth instead of fear.
In Metropolis, a child stumbled toward the street—until a gust of wind nudged a fallen newspaper, catching their attention just in time to step back.
At S.T.A.R. Labs, a scientist, inches from disaster, was about to be thrown against the wall—until a loose wire snapped at the right moment, absorbing just enough force to spare them.
Metropolis
The Mother Box in Batman's grip flared violently, its glow intensifying. The air split apart, and a Boom Tube erupted before them.
Then—Parademons poured through.
Green Lantern reacted first, his ring constructing a barrier.
"Oh, great. More of these guys."
Flash moved, zigzagging between attacks, redirecting civilians out of harm's way. Batman analyzed, calculating their numbers, their movements.
A Parademon lunged, claws aimed for Batman's throat—until a gust of wind shifted its trajectory, causing it to crash into a streetlamp instead.
The battle intensified.
Back at S.T.A.R. Labs, Silas moved, faster than he ever had before. He reached for the Mother Box, hands trembling.
"No. No, no, no."
The device responded. The energy shifted—rearranging, rebuilding.
Victor screamed.
The streets of Metropolis were chaos. Parademons swarmed, their screeches cutting through the storm-heavy air. Civilians ran, stumbling over debris, their screams drowned by the clash of battle.
Batman moved fast, calculating every strike, every movement. Green Lantern constructed barriers, shielding people from falling wreckage. Flash zigzagged through the battlefield, pulling civilians out of harm's way before they even realized they were in danger.
Then—a new presence entered the fight.
A blur of red and gold.
Wonder Woman arrived.
She landed hard, sword drawn, eyes burning with determination. A Parademon lunged—she met it mid-air, slicing through its armor with effortless precision.
Green Lantern smirked, dodging another attack.
"Oh great, now we're all gonna look bad."
Wonder Woman didn't respond. She was already moving, cutting through the enemy ranks with grace and fury.
S.T.A.R. Labs
Silas Stone worked frantically, his hands shaking as he adjusted the machinery around Victor's broken body. The blast had torn through him, leaving wounds no human medicine could fix.
The Mother Box pulsed, responding to Silas' desperation. He didn't care about the risks—he only cared about saving his son.
"Stay with me, Victor. Just stay with me."
Darkness. Fire. Endless war.
Victor stood in the heart of Apokolips, his body whole but unfamiliar. The air was thick with the scent of burning stone, the roar of a thousand warriors trembling through the cracked ground.
Before him—Darkseid, towering, watching.
"You are seen."
The voice was not just heard—it infiltrated. It carved itself into Victor's bones, into the very fabric of his existence.
He tried to move. He couldn't.
Chains, unseen but absolute, locked his limbs in place. His mind was pried open, forced to witness the vastness of Apokolips—its obedience, its endless march toward destruction.
This was no vision. This was a claim.
Darkseid's grip tightened. The glyphs on Victor's newly reforged body burned, syncing with the heartbeat of the Mother Box. His thoughts were no longer his own.
His fate was being rewritten.
Then—something shifted.
The Miracle
It wasn't force. It wasn't resistance. It was something gentler—a touch beyond calculation, beyond power.
A stray ember in the Apokoliptian sky, flickering in defiance.
A tremor in the stone beneath Victor's feet, altering the rhythm just slightly—just enough to throw off Darkseid's absolute hold.
A fragment of something outside this war, a quiet force that whispered to fate itself.
And in that instant, Victor broke free.
Apokolips collapsed around him—or perhaps it was never truly there. His mind snapped back, his breath returning in a choking gasp.
The lab lights burned bright overhead. Silas Stone stood over him, his hands trembling, desperate.
"Stay with me, Victor. Just stay with me."
Victor gasped, feeling himself again, whole but changed.
The storm over Metropolis raged on, lightning splitting the sky as the battle against the Parademons intensified. The heroes fought relentlessly—Batman calculated, Wonder Woman struck with precision, Green Lantern constructed barriers, Flash moved civilians to safety, and Superman tore through the enemy ranks, his strikes absolute, his presence towering.
Then—the ocean answered.
A wave crashed against the docks, unnatural in its force. From the depths, Aquaman emerged, his trident gleaming under the city lights. He stepped forward, surveying the chaos with narrowed eyes.
"You surface-dwellers really know how to throw a party."
Green Lantern smirked, dodging a Parademon's strike.
"Oh great, you're real. Thought you were just a guy from a Conan O'Brien sketch."
Aquaman didn't dignify that with a response. He lunged, his trident piercing through a Parademon, sending its body crumbling into dust.
At S.T.A.R. Labs, Victor staggered, his body unfamiliar, his limbs heavier than they should be. The Mother Box's energy still pulsed through him, reshaping him into something more than human.
Then—the attack came.
Parademons descended, screeching as they lunged toward Victor. His instincts screamed at him to move, but his body hesitated, still adjusting to its new form.
Then—the system activated.
A pulse of energy rippled outward, his body responding before his mind could. The auto-defense system engaged, targeting the incoming threats.
A blast of energy disintegrated the Parademons instantly.
Victor stared, his breathing uneven. He hadn't meant to do that. He hadn't even tried.
Silas stood over him, his face etched with guilt.
"I had no choice, Victor."
Victor's gaze hardened, his hands trembling as he looked at himself—at the metal, the circuitry, the thing he had become.
"You did this to me."
Silas stepped forward, desperate.
"I saved you."
Victor couldn't hear him anymore. His mind was drowning in the weight of what had happened—what had been taken from him.
Then—he flew.
Without thinking, without planning, his body lifted off the ground, propelled by the very technology he despised. He escaped, disappearing into the storm-heavy sky.
Back in Metropolis, the battle slowed, the Parademons retreating. The heroes turned to Aquaman, assessing their newest ally.
Green Lantern crossed his arms.
"So, what's the deal? You just show up when things get bad?"
Aquaman smirked.
"I show up when the ocean tells me to."
The battle had slowed, the Parademons retreating into the storm-heavy sky. The streets of Metropolis were littered with debris, the scent of scorched concrete lingering in the air. The heroes stood together for the first time—not as scattered individuals, but as something resembling a team.
But the silence didn't last.
GREEN LANTERN:Alright, so who's in charge here?
The question hung in the air.
Superman crossed his arms, his gaze steady.
SUPERMAN:We don't need a leader. We just need to work together.
Green Lantern scoffed.
GREEN LANTERN:Yeah, that sounds great until someone has to make a call. And I don't know about you guys, but I'm not taking orders from Batman.
Batman didn't react. He was already analyzing the situation, calculating their next move.
WONDER WOMAN:(firm, unwavering)Leadership isn't about control. It's about direction.
Aquaman smirked, leaning on his trident.
AQUAMAN:And who exactly is qualified to lead a group like this?
Flash raised a hand.
FLASH:Not it.
Green Lantern gestured toward Superman.
GREEN LANTERN:Big guy here seems like the obvious choice. He's got the whole "symbol of hope" thing going for him.
Superman shook his head.
SUPERMAN:I'm not here to command anyone.
Batman finally spoke, his voice measured, sharp.
BATMAN:Then we don't waste time arguing. We focus on the mission.
The battle had slowed, but the tension remained. The heroes stood together, assessing their next move. Green Lantern, arms crossed, glanced at Aquaman with a smirk.
GREEN LANTERN:Alright, so what exactly do you do?
Aquaman raised an eyebrow.
AQUAMAN:Excuse me?
Green Lantern gestured toward the group.
GREEN LANTERN:I mean, we've got Batman—guy's a genius, sneaky, scary. Superman—big, strong, flies, shoots lasers. Flash—fastest man alive. Wonder Woman—warrior goddess. Me? I've got the most powerful weapon in the universe.(pauses, tilts head)And then there's you.
Aquaman's expression didn't change.
AQUAMAN:You think I just talk to fish?
Green Lantern shrugged.
GREEN LANTERN:I mean, kinda.
Aquaman sighed, gripping his trident.
Then—the ground trembled.
Aquaman Shows His Power
The storm above shifted, the air tightened. From the distant harbor, the ocean answered.
A wave surged, unnatural in its force, crashing against the docks with a roar. The water rose, twisting into a towering shape—a force, a presence, something beyond simple control.
Green Lantern's smirk faded.
Aquaman stepped forward, his trident pulsing with energy.
AQUAMAN:I command the seas.
The wave collapsed, but the power remained—lingering in the air, undeniable.
Green Lantern exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.
GREEN LANTERN:Okay. That's actually kinda cool.
Then—a shadow cut through the sky.
Victor descended, his body still unfamiliar, his movements slightly unsteady. But his eyes—his eyes burned with something far worse than pain.
Something was coming.
Victor landed hard, his breath uneven. The heroes turned, watching him carefully.
"We don't have time."
Victor's gaze flickered, his mind still reeling from the vision.
"It's not just an invasion. It's a war. And we're already losing."
The Mother Box hummed, responding to his presence. The energy in the air shifted, as if the world itself was bracing for impact.
Superman narrowed his eyes.
"Who's coming?"
Victor exhaled, his voice low, strained.
"Darkseid."
The Boom Tube had torn open the sky, spilling forth waves of Parademons. The Justice League fought relentlessly, holding the line against the invasion. But then—the ground trembled.
A shadow loomed over the battlefield.
Darkseidarrived.
The air tightened, thick with an unseen force. The Parademons halted, their screeches fading into silence. The storm above shifted, bending to the presence of something far greater.
Then—he stepped forward.
Darkseid's massive frame moved with terrifying precision, his red eyes burning with cold calculation. He did not rush. He did not hesitate. He simply walked, as if the battle was already won.
Superman stepped forward, his stance solid.
"We stop him here."
Batman's gaze flickered across the battlefield, analyzing every possible outcome.
"We don't fight him head-on. We outmaneuver him."
Wonder Woman gripped her sword, her expression unwavering.
"Then let's move."
Superman launched forward, his fist colliding with Darkseid's chest—but the impact barely made him flinch. Darkseid grabbed Superman mid-strike, his grip crushing, his strength absolute.
Then—the Omega Beams fired.
Twin beams of red destruction erupted from Darkseid's eyes, twisting through the air, locking onto Superman. He dodged, but the beams adjusted, curving toward him like sentient weapons.
The impact was instant.
Superman's body erupted in light, the force of the attack sending him spiraling into a Boom Tube. His form vanished, swallowed by the warping space—dragged to Apokolips.
The League froze.
Batman's breath hitched, the calculation in his mind shifting from offense to immediate retrieval.
Wonder Woman's eyes hardened, her grip on her sword tightening until her knuckles turned white.
Flash stared, the speed in his veins unable to reverse what had just happened.
Superman was gone.
Darkseid stood tall, watching them with the quiet certainty of a god addressing insects.
"And now, your strongest is mine."
The storm roared. The Mother Box hummed violently.
The battlefield was chaos, the heroes battered but unbroken. Darkseid towered over them, his presence warping the very air, his crimson eyes burning with quiet inevitability.
Then—Green Lantern attacked.
Hal lunged, his ring flaring with raw power, constructing massive chains, blades, and battering rams. He threw everything at Darkseid, his fury blinding him to the danger.
Darkseid caught his arm mid-strike.
A sickening crack echoed through the battlefield.
Hal screamed, his arm snapping under Darkseid's grip, his constructs shattering instantly. He collapsed, clutching his broken limb, pain radiating through his body.
Darkseid barely acknowledged him.
Batman moved fast, kneeling beside Hal, gripping his shoulder.
"Your arm is broken."
Hal gritted his teeth. "I can handle this."
"No, you can't."
Batman stood, turning to the others. The battle was falling apart. They were fighting like individuals, not a team.
Then—he removed his cowl.
"My name is Bruce Wayne."
The League froze, staring at him.
"This isn't about me. It's bigger than all of us. We fight together, or we lose."
The words cut through the chaos, forcing them to regroup.
Batman vanished into the shadows, tracking a Parademon, following its movements. He knew where it was going—Apokolips.
He had to find Superman
Hal gritted his teeth, pushing past the pain. He turned to the others, his voice steady despite the agony.
"We got this."
The League assembled, their resolve solidified.
Victor connected to the Mother Boxes, his mind diving into the alien code, searching for a way to bring Batman and Superman back.
The energy shifted, the connection forming.
Wonder Woman charged, her sword piercing Darkseid's eye, the blade sinking deep.
Darkseid roared, staggering back.
Aquaman followed, his trident blinding the other eye, the force of the strike sending Darkseid reeling.
Victor activated the portal—and Superman and Batman returned.
Darkseid laughed, his voice booming.
"Your efforts is worthless. I am Darkseid."
Superman rammed into his stomach, the force shaking the ground, pushing him toward the Boom Tube.
"I don't care!"
The League joined in, every hero pushing, their combined strength forcing Darkseid back.
Then—Darkseid began to push them back.
The effort almost turned futile.
Then—a miracle.
Darkseid tripped, his balance shattered, his control lost.
The League pushed harder, forcing him into the portal.
Victor closed it.
The battlefield fell silent.
Darkseid was gone.
The war was over.
~~~~~~~~~some days later
The world had changed. Gods walk among us, that have been the case earlier but now people knew about them, believed in them.
Gotham, some restaurant
The restaurant was quiet, bathed in the golden glow of evening. Steam curled from a fresh cup of tea as Elric set it down with practiced ease. The hum of conversation filled the air—soft, familiar, uninterrupted.
Yet, the flickering TV screen in the corner told another story.
The Justice League had formed.
Footage rolled—Superman standing tall, Wonder Woman resolute, Batman watchful, Green Lantern and Flash exchanging quips, Aquaman bracing like the tide, Victor transformed yet undeniably whole.
A declaration. A beginning.
Elric stirred a pot absentmindedly, the rhythm of his motions steady, unbroken. Outside the restaurant, the world rushed forward—headlines shouting, celebrations spilling into streets.
But here, time moved differently.
A spoon tapped porcelain. A window fogged slightly against the cooling night air.
In Metropolis, heroes stood shoulder to shoulder.
And far away, in a quiet restaurant, a man exhaled, observing, understanding—but never interfering.
The tea had brewed just right.
The world would move forward.
And Elric would continue tending to what was in front of him.