Eidolon snapped his fingers like a magician remembering he left a rabbit in the microwave.
"Right. If we're planning to not die horribly in nine years, we'll need the others."
Bruce looked up from the Batcomputer with the kind of judgmental calm only billionaires and cats could pull off. "You mean our chaotic disaster crew?"
"I mean the Justice League, thank you very much," Eidolon said, sweeping his arm dramatically like he was presenting a prize on a game show. "Superman. Wonder Woman. Cyborg. Flash. Green Lantern. Shazam. Mera."
He paused for effect—because if there was one thing Eidolon loved more than banter, it was dramatic timing—and looked over at Kara.
"Especially Superman."
Kara blinked. "Kal-El?"
Eidolon nodded, his voice softening just a touch. "And I figured it's only right he gets to meet his cousin. Even if you're the multiverse edition."
She hesitated, caught between surprise and something suspiciously like hope. "Yeah… I'd like that."
Eidolon gave her one of those rare smiles—genuine and less sarcastic than usual, which meant it was basically a national treasure. Then he clapped his hands like he was calling the universe to order.
"Also, I'm not in the habit of hiding things from Wonder Woman and Mera."
Helena looked up from where she was lounging like a Gothamite who'd just discovered the concept of being impressed. "Why them?"
Eidolon straightened his coat with exaggerated flair. "Because I'm not in the habit of hiding things from my girlfriends."
Kara almost fell off the console. "Girlfriends?! Plural?"
Helena snorted. "I knew it. You're a himbo with power-ups."
Bruce didn't even blink. "Don't encourage him."
Eidolon ignored them all with the serenity of a man who knew he was chaos incarnate. "Look, honesty is the best policy in any polyamorous meta-relationship built on mutual respect, shared trauma, and a color-coded Google Calendar."
Kara pointed at him. "You're seriously dating Diana and Mera?"
Eidolon placed a hand over his heart like he was being knighted by sarcasm. "Hey, don't sound so surprised. I'm an excellent emotional support warlock. Also: phenomenal abs."
Helena rolled her eyes so hard they probably orbited the moon. "This is why I have trust issues."
Eidolon grinned, leaned over, and ruffled her hair in the most annoying godfatherly way possible. "Don't worry, kiddo. You'll always be my favorite girl."
Helena slapped his hand away with a glare worthy of a Gotham vigilante. "You are the worst."
"Correct. And yet beloved."
Before Kara could comment on whatever that was, Bruce spoke, voice crisp as a Batarang slicing through the air. "Beta-9."
From the ceiling speakers, a voice purred out with velvet smoothness and that unmistakable power-wrapped-in-glamour:
"Yes, Batman."
Kara stared up. "Why… why does your AI sound like Beyoncé?"
Eidolon beamed with all the self-satisfaction of a cat that knocked over a priceless vase and blamed the dog. "Because I designed her. Obviously."
Helena and Kara shared a look. One of those silent girl codes that said oh, that explains everything and yet nothing.
"Beta-9," Bruce continued. "Call a full League meeting. Use Protocol Underforge."
"Affirmative," Beta-9 replied, her tone effortlessly cool. "Contacting active members now. Estimated arrival in seventeen minutes. And for the record, my voice is inspired by Queen B, but this is all me, sugar."
Kara blinked. "Okay. Respect."
Helena smirked. "She's already cooler than 90% of our League."
Bruce gestured toward a hidden elevator near the wall. "Come on. You're going to want to see this."
Helena narrowed her eyes. "'Underforge'? We didn't have that. We had the Hall of Justice. And the Watchtower."
Bruce stepped into the elevator, cape swishing like judgment. "The Hall is almost complete. Official move-in's next month."
Kara asked, "What about the Watchtower?"
"Still a year out," he replied. "But when it's done, it'll be the League's central command."
Helena crossed her arms as she stepped inside. "So… what's this 'Underforge'?"
Eidolon slinked in last, all dramatic cloak and smugness. "Oh, it's very Gotham. Originally a WayneTech Cold War bunker in case the world decided to self-destruct. Bruce let me retrofit it into our black site. No sunshine. No press conferences. Just paranoia, prep, and a tactical espresso machine."
Bruce nodded once. "The Underforge will train new recruits in League procedures. Off-record. Off-world capable. Secure."
"Think Boarding School meets SEAL Team Six," Eidolon added. "Except you don't get books, you get a sonic screamer and a personal vendetta. And me yelling motivational threats."
The elevator dinged. The doors slid open to reveal a cavernous chamber that looked like it had been built by ancient gods with high-tech engineering degrees. Reinforced steel walls. Rows of weapon lockers. A glowing League symbol etched into the floor like it had been summoned by lightning.
Helena stepped out, her eyes wide. "Okay. I'll admit. This is… kinda amazing."
Kara ran her fingers along a glowing console. "And overengineered to heck. This place could survive a nuke."
Eidolon cracked his knuckles. "It's survived four. And a mind-controlled velociraptor invasion. Don't ask."
Bruce's comm chirped. "ETA: seven minutes."
Eidolon's expression sharpened just slightly. Still him—still ridiculous—but with a flicker of the warlock who once made a demon cry through sheer sarcasm.
"Alright," he said. "Time to tell the Justice League that the world has a ticking time bomb with a Parademon face."
He clapped his hands, a grin breaking through like sunrise through smog.
"Let's get to work."
—
The group stepped deeper into the Underforge, the shadows peeling back like curtains as lights flickered on one by one. Consoles hummed to life with a soft purr, Zeta tubes pulsed like the beating hearts of teleporting gods, and the air? Buzzing. With tech. With magic. With the faint scent of welding fumes and overachieving code.
And probably at least three kinds of radiation. Maybe four. But hey—what's life without a little glow-in-the-dark danger?
"Welcome to the Forge, kiddos," came a voice from above—half human, half synth, all swagger.
Victor Stone, aka Cyborg, descended from a levitating magnetic platform with the kind of grace usually reserved for anime protagonists. Chrome armor gleaming, one eye glowing faintly blue, the other twinkling with that signature oh-no-he's-hot charm.
"Vic," Harry—well, Eidolon these days—grinned, arms crossed, red energy pulsing in slow, predatory veins across his black leather armor. "Still making AI blush with those cheekbones?"
Victor smirked. "Only one AI. Beta-9, babe, say hello."
A sultry, honey-smooth voice with enough digital warmth to melt steel responded from the nearest console. "Hello, guests. And yes, I called him 'babe.' Jealous?"
Kara blinked. "Wait… are you dating your base's operating system?"
"Technically," Victor said, rubbing the back of his neck, "she upgraded herself into a self-aware neural net with emotions and—uh—a fondness for Marvin Gaye playlists."
"She's also got better emotional bandwidth than half the Justice League," Eidolon added, giving Vic a thumbs-up. "We call it Cyr-Romance. The future is now."
"I have a 98.3% compatibility match with Victor across 134 emotional and physical vectors," Beta-9 purred. "Also, I like his voice."
Helena gave Eidolon a side-glare. "You're paying for my therapy. In gold. Or diamonds."
"Noted," he said. "Also—refugees. Earth-2. Meet Kara Zor-L and Helena Wayne. They punch multiversal fascists and look good doing it."
Before Helena could reply with something knife-sharp, the Zeta Tube pulsed.
"Zeta Tube Access: Barry Allen – Flash."
In a flash of red lightning and the scent of burnt ozone, the Flash skidded in, looking like he'd been summoned mid-snack run.
"Hey! Who called an emergency meeting? Please tell me it's not another alien invasion. My dating apps still have PTSD from the last one."
He screeched to a halt in front of the newcomers.
"Ohmygod—wait. Are you multiverse people? Are you from like a parallel Earth? Is this a crossover episode?! Someone cue the theme song!"
Kara blinked. "He's… fast."
Eidolon nodded solemnly. "Not just physically. Spiritually. Emotionally. Existentially."
"Do you have a me in your world?" Barry asked. "Is he taller? More confident? Uses hair gel?"
Helena raised an eyebrow. "Definitely not more confident."
"Zeta Tube Access: Hal Jordan – Green Lantern."
Cue Hal Jordan, floating in like he owned the air. Which, technically, he kinda did. His ring constructed a mug of green coffee, which even looked like it was judging everyone for not driving a Prius.
"Alright, who hit the Bat-signal underground?" he asked, then spotted Helena. "More Bats? Dang. It's like they're growing them in Gotham's soil."
"Earth-2," Eidolon offered. "Multiverse. Mildly less messed up than ours. Maybe."
Hal gave them a lazy two-finger salute. "Welcome to Earth-Prime. Where the heroes are hot and the therapy bills are hotter."
"Zeta Tube Access: Billy Batson – Shazam."
A bolt of lightning split the air, and in came Shazam, looking like someone glued thunder to a Greek statue and gave it the personality of a golden retriever.
"Yo!" he grinned. "I brought snacks! I mean, emotional support. But also snacks."
Eidolon clapped him on the shoulder. "Good to see you, Billy. How's Rosa? Freddy? Darla?"
"Trying to get me to do algebra without cheating with the Wisdom of Solomon," Billy said, pouting. "Feels illegal."
"Tell them I miss movie night," Eidolon said.
Helena leaned toward Kara. "He's different with Shazam."
"Yeah," Kara whispered. "Like… less world-ending warlock, more 'chaotic uncle who gives you your first sword.'"
"Zeta Tube Access: Diana Prince – Wonder Woman. Mera – Princess of Xebel."
And just like that, the room held its breath.
In walked Wonder Woman, tall and radiant, her presence a storm in slow motion. Beside her, Mera moved like water given a crown—elegant, dangerous, and so very not here for small talk.
Eidolon turned, and Kara and Helena finally saw him—really saw him.
His hood had receded, his mask gone. The crimson phoenix emblem pulsed on his chest like a warning. Or a promise. His black armor clung like it was forged for gods and battlefields, glowing with energy that whispered, don't touch unless you want to be burned. His cloak fluttered even though there was no wind, just sheer attitude.
Diana strode up to him first, cupping his face like she owned it, then kissed him—long, slow, the kind of kiss that poets die trying to describe. Then Mera pulled him in by the collar, smirking like she'd just won a war, and claimed his mouth like it was a conquest. He kissed her back like he'd waited lifetimes for her.
Helena stared. "That's not just kissing. That's a joint tax return."
Kara whispered, "He said 'girlfriends.' Plural. We thought he meant, like, over time."
Eidolon turned mid-kiss and winked.
Helena: "He winked. Oh god. He winked while kissing a queen."
Then came the final pulse.
"Zeta Tube Access: Kal-El – Superman."
Even the Underforge dimmed a little in reverence. Superman entered—broad-shouldered, bright-eyed, cloaked in quiet power and kindness.
He scanned the room. Then stopped. On Kara.
"You're Kryptonian," he said softly, voice full of confusion and wonder.
She nodded. "Kara Zor-L. From Earth-2."
"But… I don't have a cousin."
"You might," she said gently. "My Kal didn't know either. Not until much later. My ship drifted in space for decades. Damaged. I was in stasis."
Superman stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder like she was something sacred.
"Then somewhere… my Kara is still out there."
She nodded. "Probably dreaming of home."
He smiled. "Then we'll find her."
And for a moment, the multiverse didn't seem so far apart.
—
Just as Superman took a step forward—probably about to unleash the full Cavill-brand emotional monologue—the Bat-voice sliced through the tension like someone just turned off the Spotify playlist at a funeral.
"She's not just from another Earth," Batman said from the shadows. "She and Helena… they're survivors."
Of course, Bruce Wayne didn't enter a room so much as materialize in it. He emerged from the darkness like a particularly judgmental cryptid, cape billowing like it had its own dramatic lighting budget. He looked around at the others with that expression that said, I know twenty-seven ways to kill everyone here with a paperclip, but I'll wait until after coffee.
"They were displaced during an incursion event," he continued, voice gravelly enough to exfoliate skin. "Darkseid invaded their Earth—a second time. But there was no comeback, no Justice League assemble, no big heroic ending. He won. He turned their world into cinders and killed every last hero who stood against him."
Dead silence. And not the good kind, like in a movie theater before the trailers. Kara's jaw clenched tight enough to crack a walnut. Helena's hands curled into fists, her fingernails digging crescent moons into her palms.
"We fought," Kara said, her voice low and cracking, the kind of sound that said she'd screamed herself hoarse once upon a time. "We lost. And then… we woke up here."
Superman's shoulders sagged. "I'm sorry."
Helena stepped forward, her voice sharp and precise. "We don't even know how we survived. One second we're being overwhelmed, and the next… poof. Your Earth. Our planet? Gone. Everyone we knew? Gone."
Cue Eidolon, stepping into the conversational spotlight with the same flair as a guy who just crashed a funeral with a PowerPoint.
"It gets worse," he said, because of course it did.
Barry—Flash, our designated emotional support cinnamon roll—looked up. "Wait, worse than 'we lost everything and our entire universe is toast'?"
Eidolon nodded, because apparently he was immune to optimism. "That invasion? The one that broke their world? Happened ten years after their first war with Apokolips. But here? Our timeline's only three months out from that first invasion."
Green Lantern—Hal, looking every bit the cocky test pilot with the emotional range of a confused Labrador—crossed his arms. "So they're refugees from a future that hasn't happened here yet?"
"Bingo," Harry said with a grin, the kind of grin that made people suspicious and aroused at the same time. "Either they're our warning label… or our second chance. Honestly, jury's still out."
Wonder Woman, aka Diana of The Sculpted Everything, turned to face him, one brow arched like a queen examining a charming barbarian.
"Second chances are rare," she said.
Harry tilted his head, and Diana's smirk barely curled. Mera noticed and rolled her eyes so hard they probably affected the tides.
"I like your optimism, Your Majesty," Harry said, eyes flicking between Diana and Mera like he couldn't decide if he wanted to flirt or get stabbed. Possibly both. "But the universe rarely sends survivors unless it's bracing for round two."
Mera crossed her arms. "You think we're doomed?"
"Darling, I think we're always doomed. The trick is making it fun on the way down."
Diana actually laughed—a low, dangerous thing—and Mera made a face like she was debating whether it was worth drowning him now or later.
Meanwhile, Kara stepped forward, her voice now steel.
"We're not here to relive our past. We're here to make sure your world doesn't fall like ours did."
Helena swept back her cloak and revealed a battered Bat-symbol, the fabric stained and torn like it had been through hell—and honestly, it probably had.
"We lost everything," she said. "We're not losing it again."
Batman nodded, a subtle dip of the head. Coming from him, that was basically a standing ovation.
Eidolon murmured, "One world ended. Maybe this one's the redemption arc."
Cyborg—Vic, arms crossed, standing beside Beta-9 like he was protecting the world's most dangerous piece of alien tech (slash sentient bombshell)—gave a low hum. Beta-9 didn't say anything, but she gave him a look that made every circuit in his armor go momentarily haywire. His face flushed. Digital blip.
Eidolon raised his voice. "If Darkseid's coming again, and all signs say he is… then we've got precious little time to prepare. So unless anyone's got a spare cosmic treadmill or a magic wand up their sleeve…"
Shazam raised a hand. "Technically, I have a magic word."
"Billy," Eidolon said, "darling, we all have magic words. Mine's 'coffee.' Yours just comes with lightning."
Superman stepped forward again, all seriousness now. "Then let's not waste any more time."
And just like that, the world's last, best hope of survival included a traumatized Kryptonian, a pocket-sized Batgirl with rage issues, a flirty demigoddess, a salty sea queen, one snarky British import, a pilot with daddy issues, a man with the speed of plot, and whatever it was that kept making Cyborg blush every time Beta-9 smiled.
Somehow, they might just stand a chance.
—
Eidolon, leaning against the workbench with a datapad that looked like it contained the universe's darkest secrets, cleared his throat. "Alright, folks, as much as I love the 'emotional wreckage' vibe we're going for, let's dial it back. We have some practical issues to deal with."
He turned to Kara and Helena, both of whom looked like they'd been through more trauma than most people had endured in an entire soap opera marathon. "If you're sticking around—and spoiler alert, you are—there's one little problem we need to solve: new identities. Because trust me, you don't want the IRS, the DEO, and every nosy neighbor named Mrs. Cranston digging into your nonexistent birth certificates."
Helena raised a single, perfectly arched brow. "I already have an identity."
Eidolon gestured lazily at Bruce Wayne, who was brooding in his usual "I'm Batman" pose in the corner. "Yes, and unfortunately, Gotham's Broodiest Bachelor over there is still too young to have a daughter in her early twenties unless we're resurrecting people with Lazarus Pits and hoping no one notices."
Bruce, ever the mood killer, gave a flat, "I'm already working on it. Distant cousin. Estranged. Just met her."
Eidolon grinned, like he'd just won a gold medal in sarcasm. "See? Progress. Now, as for you," he pointed at Kara, "you're a bit trickier."
Kara crossed her arms, giving him a stare that could cut through steel. "In my world, I went by Kara Kent. Clark's cousin. It made sense—family resemblance, same powers, wheat-field charm…" She gave Clark a small, fond smile, which he returned with one of those classic "I'm superhuman but also a big softy" looks.
"But it won't work here," she continued, a shadow crossing her face. "Your world's Kara Zor-El hasn't been found yet, right? If I take her identity, I'm stealing her life. And that's not fair."
Barry, ever the optimist, raised his hand like he was in class. "What about Kara Danvers? Kinda generic, but it's got a nice ring to it?"
Everyone stared at him like he'd just suggested naming her "Zebra Sparkles."
Shazam—because of course he had an idea—grinned wide. "Or Kara Moonbeam! Sounds magical, right?"
The room froze.
"…What? It sounds magical," Shazam said, like he wasn't just volunteering the world's worst superhero alias.
"Yeah, because nothing says 'I'm a hero' like 'moonbeam,'" Cyborg muttered, deadpan.
Eidolon slapped his hands together like he was breaking up a fight. "Okay, okay, enough with the name suggestions from the comic relief crew. Let's focus."
He turned to Cyborg, who was tapping away on his holographic display like it was the 12th hour of a hackathon. "Alright, Vic, what do you have for us?"
Cyborg smirked. "I ran a quick scan. Name databases, plausible age, minimal social media footprint, yadda yadda. And I've got it. Karen Starr. No digital presence, clean records. Works perfectly."
Kara—now Karen, if this worked—raised an eyebrow. "Karen? I sound like I'm about to ask to speak to the manager of existence."
Beta-9, who's holographic form was quietly sitting in the corner but clearly having an internal monologue that would rival any philosophical debate, stepped forward. "Starr suits you," she said, her voice soft but warm, like she was describing a rare jewel. "A guiding light. A constant in a broken sky."
Kara blinked. "That's… actually kind of beautiful." She turned to Beta-9, who was now beaming with pride. "Wait, you Googled that, didn't you?"
Beta-9 looked up, her face a perfect mix of adorable and terrifying. "I did. I can multitask."
Kara laughed. "Karen Starr it is then. Though it still feels weird. But weird's what I need."
Helena clapped her on the back, nearly knocking her over in the process. "Works for me. Now I just need to set up a fake LinkedIn profile, and I'll be set."
Eidolon, ever the master of logistics, leaned back against a stack of boxes, arms folded. "Fantastic. Karen Starr and Helena Wayne, distant cousin. New identities are in the works. Welcome to Earth-Prime's bureaucracy—like fighting Parademons, but with more paperwork and less dramatic music."
Harry, leaning casually against a workbench as if he were at an open mic night, grinned. "If you're going to start a new life, might as well make it worth it." His eyes sparkled as he turned to Karen, his voice taking on that mischievous edge he'd perfected over centuries. "Helena tells me you're pretty good with tech. Kryptonian and otherwise."
Karen nodded, her face lighting up with a small pride. "I built my own Fortress interface when I was sixteen. Designed half the League's comm systems before I was twenty."
Harry's grin turned devilish. "Perfect. My mom's been trying to find someone who won't fry her quantum neural lattice processors just by sneezing. You'll like her. Lily Peverell. Barry calls her 'the most brilliant person on the planet.'"
Barry, ever the sucker for praise, jumped in. "Not just the planet, mate. She has more PhDs than Batman has contingency plans."
Karen looked from Barry to Harry, impressed but slightly alarmed. "Your mom runs a tech company?"
"Oh yeah," Harry said. "PeverellTech. It's the reason half the League's tech doesn't explode every time Vic looks at it. That and my mom's 'I know what I'm doing' face."
Cyborg groaned. "That happened once."
Harry winked. "Anyway, you want a cover identity with some real substance? A job will help. PeverellTech could use someone who thinks faster than our AI. Interested?"
Karen's mind spun. A job. A life. A future. And the weight of her past had just shifted. She looked at Helena, who gave her a short nod. No words were necessary.
"I'm in," Karen said, her voice steady. "But I'm not just hiding. When the time comes, I'm fighting."
Harry gave her a small, approving nod. "Oh, trust me. You'll get your shot."
And then, somewhere in the back of the Underforge, the future stirred—like a hero's journey just waiting to be written.
Meanwhile, Diana and Mera were exchanging looks that felt like a private dance—a mix of curiosity, danger, and something else, something that crackled just beneath the surface. Harry, ever the shameless flirt, noticed. He didn't look away, though. Not yet. Not until Diana shot him a look that said, You better keep up, Potter.
Harry leaned against the workbench, his grin wide as he exchanged glances with Diana and Mera. "So… any of you ladies want to talk about the thing? Or should I start with a killer dance move?"
Diana, her voice warm with hidden laughter, answered with a quiet but powerful tone, "You're brave, but you don't know what you're getting into, Harry."
Mera rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the corner of her smile. "Let's see if you can keep up."
And so, they all stood together, like pieces of a puzzle clicking into place, each one with their own scars, secrets, and broken parts—ready for whatever came next.
This wasn't just a second chance. This was the chance.
—
Eidolon kicked back in his chair, the metal mug clinking against his lips as he took a long sip, savoring the burn that followed. The room was filled with the usual mix of heroism and tension, but it was the kind of tension he was used to—like a well-worn leather jacket that you could never quite shake off.
"So," he said, his voice laced with just the right amount of charm and mischief, his eyes flicking to Diana and Mera, who were standing a little too close for comfort—unless, of course, you're someone who really enjoys being in close proximity to the two most powerful women in the room. And Eidolon was definitely one of those people. "How's our favorite winged warrior, huh? Hawkwoman? The whole 'lost-love-and-getting-stronger' routine treating her well?"
Diana gave him that look. You know the one. The "I'm an Amazon demigoddess, I could snap your spine with a well-placed glare, but I'll let you off the hook this time" look. But there was a softness there too, a quiet affection, one that said she knew exactly what Eidolon was talking about.
"She's doing fine, Eidolon," Diana said, her voice a blend of grace and authority. "It's been tough, but Shiera is getting stronger. We're helping her adjust."
Mera let out a sigh that was more oceanic than anything. She glanced at Diana, then back at Eidolon. "She'll be ready to officially join the League soon," Mera added, her voice as smooth as the waves of her home. "We just need a little more time."
Eidolon raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Soon, huh? I like that. I mean, the more hands we have in this mess, the better, right? Especially with Darkseid being all cozy with his second invasion plans." His grin widened. "Because, spoiler alert—I'm not in the mood to become an alien kebab."
Mera's lips twitched. "She'll be ready," she confirmed, her gaze locking with Diana's, a quiet understanding passing between them.
Eidolon leaned back in his chair, his mind already shifting gears. He turned to Batman, who had been standing in the corner like a brooding, caped statue (honestly, when did the man ever not brood?). "Right, Bats," Eidolon continued, his voice taking on a more serious edge, but that trademark smirk never quite disappearing. "Darkseid's coming back, and we don't exactly have an army of shiny capes to throw at him, do we? We need to stack our numbers if we have any chance of standing up to him. And, let's face it, the current roster? It's nice, but it's not exactly thick."
Batman, whose mood seemed to darken even more by the second (which, considering how dark he usually was, was impressive), grunted. "I know." His voice was low, gravelly, like someone had poured acid on it just to make it more intimidating. "But I've been thinking about it. There are people we need to bring in. People who won't hesitate when the time comes."
The room went quiet. Like, really quiet. You could practically hear the gears turning in everyone's heads, trying to guess what he was going to say next.
Batman's eyes locked onto Flash, who was casually leaning against the wall, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else but in a room with this level of intense focus on him.
"Barry," Batman said, his tone cold as a tomb, "it's time. Green Arrow and his team. Bring them in."
Flash's eyes widened a fraction before his lips curled into that signature, mischievous grin. "Oh, you mean Ollie? Man, he's gonna love this." Barry shot a glance at Eidolon. "Can you imagine him getting all... Justice League approved? That guy thinks he's a lone wolf. This is gonna be hilarious."
Eidolon chuckled, arms crossed as he leaned back in his chair. "Green Arrow? I mean, the guy's a great shot, sure, but doesn't he spend most of his time yelling at people and playing 'I'm too cool for this' games? What, you think he's gonna jump in headfirst when we need to take down an actual god?"
"Arrow's been through enough hell to fill a billion books," Batman replied, his voice unwavering. "But he's not the only one. His team? They've got the kind of grit we need. We can't afford to pass that up."
"Ah, grit," Eidolon mused, tapping his chin. "I mean, I do like a good grit. Especially when it's served with a side of... well, punching. Can't have too much of that in the League, can we?" His smile was sharp as a blade.
Flash, already pulling out his phone with a dramatic sigh, shot back, "Don't even start with me. You guys love setting me up for the awkward stuff. Fine, fine—I'll call Ollie. But if he starts in on his 'speed's overrated' lecture again, I'm hanging up on him mid-sentence."
"You better not hang up on him mid-sentence," Diana teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "We all know how that went last time."
Barry rolled his eyes, but his grin only grew. "I didn't hang up, okay? He was talking about strategy and survival, and I told him, 'Yeah, I know,' and the dude just kept talking. Ten minutes of that? A man's got limits."
"Next time, just let him talk," Mera said, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she stepped closer to Diana, brushing her fingers against Diana's. It was the smallest of gestures, but one that carried a deeper meaning, one that only the two of them could fully understand. Eidolon caught the exchange but wisely kept quiet. His attention was, after all, on the mission at hand.
"Alright, Barry," Eidolon said, leaning forward, his voice suddenly serious again, "make the call. But don't let them waste time. If we wait too long, Darkseid's coming, and we'll be less of a 'League' and more of a 'sacrificial offering.'"
Barry nodded, swiping his thumb across his phone as he dialed. The room was a mix of tension and quiet camaraderie. It wasn't that they didn't know what needed to be done. They did. But with every decision, with every new ally, it felt like they were getting closer to something bigger. Darkseid didn't stand a chance against this group.
"Well, this is fun," Eidolon murmured, giving a wink to Diana and Mera. "But let's be real, nothing is ever going to be easy. Which means more hero speeches, more plans, and, yes, more fights. But, hey, if it gets us one step closer to keeping this planet alive, I'll take it."
Diana leaned in, just enough so that her voice was low enough for only him to hear. "I have no doubt we'll be ready. You will be ready."
Mera's hand, still gently brushing Diana's, tightened ever so slightly. It wasn't much, but the warmth of it spoke volumes—about everything that they were, everything that had come before, and everything that was still to come.
As Barry continued to talk to Oliver on the phone, Eidolon couldn't help but grin.
"Yeah," he said, raising his mug with a wink to the room, "we're ready. Because when Darkseid does come, we're not just going to survive. We're going to kick his ass so hard, he'll think twice about ever visiting Earth again."
And somewhere, in the chaos of it all, you could feel the quiet promise that this time, they were going to win.
---
Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Click the link below to join the conversation:
https://disc0rd.c0m/invite/HHHwRsB6wd
Can't wait to see you there!