Star Labs – Corridors
Harley Quinn ran full tilt through the corridor, the drive pressing hard against her ribs. Her pulse was high, her breath short, but the objective was simple: grab the schematics, get out. No time to second-guess. A glint caught her eye-Thunk!
A blade buried itself in the wall just inches from her head. She flinched but kept moving.
"Close one, Masky," she muttered between breaths, more to herself than him.
Behind her, Roman Sionis, Black Mask — didn't slow. His suit was tailored, his posture rigid, but the cracks were showing. Magpie had failed. Now it was just him, chasing a fugitive through a facility that was falling apart by the second. This wasn't what he signed up for. The job was supposed to be quick and quiet. No witnesses. No variables.
But Task Force X was a variable.
A sharp beep-beep-beep pulled him out of his frustration. His chronometer lit red. The perimeter had been breached. GCPD was closing in.
He stopped cold, chest heaving. He raised his wrist comm. "Mission's compromised. Pull out. Everyone."
No response.
"Clock? Magpie? Do you read?"
Still nothing. The corridor ahead stretched into darkness, emergency lights flickering like a failing heartbeat. Harley was gone. He checked the time again. At most, he had a couple minutes.
He turned toward the emergency exit, jaw set—
THWUNK!
Something hit him hard. A flash of pain, then nothing. He collapsed, unconscious before he hit the ground.
Star Labs – Core Chamber (Moments Later)
Nightwing stood over Black Mask's limp body, retracting his escrima staff. "Target down," he said into his comm, but only static came through. The interference was still thick.
He restrained Sionis quickly and pressed forward.
The core chamber was wrecked. Smoke hung low, lit in flashes by emergency strobes. The walls were scorched, equipment torn apart. The chronoton core was gone. Residual energy thrummed in the air like static before a lightning strike.
Nightwing stepped around debris and saw her. Magpie lay motionless on the floor, blood trickling from a head wound. A metal bat lay nearby, stained red.
Blunt force trauma. Precise. Deliberate.
He exhaled through his nose. "Harley."
"Yeah," a voice replied. Commissioner Gordon emerged from behind a destroyed console, his coat smudged with ash. He looked tired, his expression tight.
"Commissioner," Nightwing said, giving a short nod.
Gordon scanned the room. "You get a sense of what happened?"
Nightwing didn't answer right away. He looked again at the missing core, the mess left behind, the signature chaos.
"I've got a guess."
And it wasn't just Harley. He could feel it — this had Task Force X written all over it.
The Drowned Rat Tavern – Gotham Underbelly
Beneath the city, the bar smelled like mildew and stale beer. Calculator sat alone in a booth, a glass of whiskey in his hand. A flickering bulb above his head buzzed quietly. He stared at it, lips moving faintly.
"12 percent…"
The light blinked out completely.
A few grumbles sounded across the bar — irritation, confusion.
Then:
THUD. CRUNCH. SCREECH.
Something above shifted. Heavy. Metal against stone.
Then screams.
Calculator didn't flinch. He just sat there in the dark, glass steady in his hand.
"Zero-point-four-seven," he whispered. "Idiots."
Gotham General Hospital – ICU
The power cut out.
For a moment, the fluorescents flickered. Then everything went black.
A moment later, backup systems kicked in, barely. Monitors lit in brief flashes of green before going dark again.
Beeeeep—
One long flatline. Then two. Then more.
Nurses rushed to patients with hand-pumps and emergency kits. Doctors shouted. In the dim light of exit signs, chaos spread quickly — not panicked, but desperate. Controlled, trained movements fighting against time and power loss.
The silence wasn't silent at all — it was filled with labored breathing, the hiss of oxygen failing, and the growing realization that there were too many patients and not enough light or hands.
Gotham Alley – Moments Later
Harley moved quickly through the alleyways, the briefcase still clutched tight against her chest. It was heavier than it looked, and hotter too. She didn't need a map—she already knew the extraction point.
Waller never left anyone hanging. She always knew where you'd be.
The worst part? The rest of the world would follow—just sixty seconds later. Like a virus passed through every vulnerable system, the collapse would jump from city to city, system to system. What started in Gotham was only the first strike.
Then the case burned.
Not literally, but close. A searing heat bled through the handle. She let out a sharp yelp, flinching away as it fell and hit the asphalt with a heavy clang.
WHUMP!
A blast of force sent her sprawling. She hit the wall hard and slid down it, coughing. Pain spiked through her back and shoulder. Everything was dark — too dark.
"Am I blind?" she gasped, waving a hand in front of her face. She blinked. Nothing.
Then a weak green flicker blinked from the cracked casing of the briefcase.
She relaxed slightly, breathing slowing. "Okay… okay. Not blind."
She looked up at the sky — just clouds and a sliver of moonlight above Gotham's spires.
It was quiet. Too quiet. A kind of hush that meant something big had broken.
Planet Gohan – Lord's Suite – Dawn
Gohan stirred in his bed. Diana was asleep beside him, breathing slow and steady. The sun cast long beams of light through the tall windows. The room was quiet. Still.
Then:
Tap. Tap.
A knock at the door. Soft, measured.
"Milord," Vermont's voice came through. "There's something you need to see."