| Watchtower - September 8
The Watchtower's sensors detected an approaching spacecraft.
The Justice League had been on high alert ever since the Thanagarian betrayal. Earth was still recovering from the near-catastrophe—and supervillains had seized the chaos as an opportunity to sow more destruction. Most League members were scattered across the globe dealing with those crises.
So it was just Batman and Icon who responded to the proximity alert from the cloaked orbital station.
Icon exited through an airlock, slipping on an oxygen mask—not because he needed it, but so he could speak Interlac through the comms. It was the most widely spoken language in the galaxy, and with the Hawks still missing, no one could translate Thanagarian.
He hailed the approaching Thanagarian Star Cruiser. The request was accepted, and the video feed appeared.
Batman recognized the helmet instantly.
A Roman-style gladiator helm—one he'd chosen for the boy. To help him confront the trauma of his time in the arena. To wear what once symbolized his suffering as armor instead. Just as Batman wore the bat to conquer his fear and use it as a weapon.
Now those same eyes stared back at him through the helm's slit—calm, focused, and resolute.
Joseph had returned.
Nova was back.
**
Joseph sat in the Watchtower briefing room, facing Batman and Icon.
His Star Cruiser was docked beside the League's Javelins and Martian Manhunter's Bio-Ship in the hangar bay. He sat with his entire body covered in skintight golden Nth metal, save for his head which was covered by his regular helmet.
He'd need to change the colors. Not even his mentor Captain Atom was entirely covered in silver.
"Nova," Batman began. "While we're glad to see you're alive… we'd like to know what happened."
"Didn't the Hawks' tablet explain everything?"
"They only offered an explanation and apology for the Hyperspace Bypass Generator."
It seemed the Hawks were leaving the rest up to him. Considerate, given the League's stance on killing.
Joseph sat in silence, weighing the consequences. But in the end, honesty won out. If there was even a chance his actions could one day endanger Earth, they deserved to know.
So he told them everything. Well—everything that mattered.
From clinging to a Gordanian ship in subspace for two days, to fighting in the Thanagarian war. From killing Despero, to liberating cities alongside Hawkman and Hawkwoman. From storming the Gordanian mothership and hacking its systems, to exploiting that access and collapsing the subspace portals of five others mid-jump or so the story he'd come up with went.
He revealed gaining psychokinesis from Py'tar—M'gann had already sensed his telepathic potential, so J'onn and probably Batman knew something—but he left out the parts about the A.I. and the Strength Force.
The League might suspect he was part of LexCorp's nanite program thanks to Silver Swan, but only Kori knew about his A.I. And he intended to keep it that way.
An ace should never leave the sleeve. After everything he'd just been through, he wasn't about to drop his guard. Despero-level threats—psychics who could control tens of thousands—weren't common, but if just a few League members got compromised or turned traitor, the fallout could be catastrophic.
He could feel Batman analyzing every microexpression, searching for cracks in his story. But Nova had control of his limbic system—the "primitive" part of the brain that governed emotions and involuntary responses. So there was no tell. No sweat. No hesitation.
Nothing to read.
As he spoke, Joseph noted Icon's subtle reaction at the mention of Despero. But neither of them interrupted. They let him speak.
When he finished, the room was silent.
"You slaughtered thousands," Batman said quietly.
"Yes," Joseph answered, steady. "Thousands of intergalactic slavers. Warmongers without the capacity for empathy. During a war. Ask the Green Lanterns what they've done—you'll hear the same stories."
Icon gave a slight nod. Batman said nothing, caught between morality and logic.
"Do you plan to slaughter thousands on Earth too, if you decide they lack empathy?"
Joseph stood. He was done being lectured.
"Look, Batman, I respect you—and your no-killing rule. But I'm not here for a moral sermon.
I've been enslaved in their arena. Forced to fight. I've watched people experimented on out of curiosity, butchered for sport. I've seen the data logs—how many they've tortured, abducted, enslaved, and executed.
And I've seen their minds.
Their entire species lacks empathy. They're parasites. And parasites don't get warnings. They get removed.
So if anything like them ever threatens my friends, my city, or my planet—yeah, I'll do what I have to."
He held Batman's gaze, steady and unflinching.
Batman stood too. "Taking a life—even of the most vile creature—is a line. Once you cross it, you're never the same."
"Did you give Wonder Woman that speech?" Joseph asked flatly.
Batman blinked.
"No one had a problem when she killed Nazis. Why should killing space Nazis—with a body count over a thousand times worse—be any different?
I didn't enjoy killing. But I made a decision. And because of it, millions of Thanagarians live."
Batman didn't respond immediately. Then he turned, breaking eye contact, and walked to the door.
"I'm not going to ask about what you've been doing with A.R.G.U.S. I still believe you're trying to do good, Nova. I just hope that belief isn't misplaced."
He left.
Joseph exhaled, tension easing from his body. It left him alone with the other League member—someone he'd never met in person before.
Icon stood and extended a hand. Joseph shook it—his grip was firm. Strong.
"I'm Terminian," Icon said. "I once served as a mediator for the Cooperative, an interstellar alliance. Even in that far corner of the galaxy, we've heard the tales—of Despero, enslaving entire civilizations with his mind. Of the Citadel's cruelty.
It may not be something I should say as a Justice League member… but you've done the universe a favor.
Welcome home, Nova."
Icon turned and followed Batman out.
Joseph stood in silence a moment longer, then sighed.
The weight of the confrontation slipped off his shoulders. Whatever. It was over.
And more importantly—Kori wasn't in the medbay anymore.
She was okay.
He couldn't wait to see her again.