Rooftop – Thirty Seconds Later
The storm was having a field day.
Thunder boomed like an overdramatic stage actor. Lightning showed off like it had an audience. And standing smack in the middle of it all—black armor, red cloak, and the sort of smug British confidence that could launch a thousand crushes—was Eidolon.
He raised two fingers like he was about to order tea, not assign people to stop a multiversal apocalypse.
"Team One," he said, his voice dry enough to exfoliate. "Flash, Power Girl, Hawkwoman, Cyborg. Go intercept Owlman's traveling murder circus."
Flash shot up a hand. "Ooh! Dibs on punching Johnny Quick in the ego."
"Save the puns for your autobiography," Hawkwoman muttered, wings unfurling with a dramatic snap. Drop dead gorgeous with a warmace. Not subtle. Not sorry.
Power Girl popped her knuckles like it was a national sport. "We'll be back before he finishes monologuing."
Eidolon gave Cyborg a glance that could carve marble. "Keep comms open. And for the love of quantum physics, make sure Speedy doesn't flirt mid-fight again."
"One time," Flash grumbled.
"It was with the villain," Power Girl added.
"She flirted first!"
"Team Two," Eidolon continued, ignoring the peanut gallery. "Diana. Mera. Hal. Big Blue. You're going back."
Diana stepped forward, eyes calm, blade at her hip, stormlight catching on her cheekbones like she'd been carved by divine fanservice. "Batman needs backup."
"Badly," Eidolon said. "He's holding the line with two batarangs, a death wish, and whatever caffeine gods grant him. You're his cavalry."
Mera raised an eyebrow, regal and 100% not in the mood. "And J'onn?"
"Guards the president's daughter." Eidolon said.
All eyes swung to Rose, who stood there in designer boots, leather jacket, and the kind of expression that said she had definitely stabbed someone in boarding school.
"I'm not breakable," she said.
"No," Eidolon replied. "You're a civilian. And a Wilson. That makes you the world's most tempting kidnapping magnet. You get a chaperone."
J'onn nodded silently. Translation: get between me and the girl and disappear.
Eidolon turned to Diana. "If things go pear-shaped—Rose is priority one."
Diana looked at Rose with new respect. "Understood."
Rose folded her arms. "Wait—Owlman knows where I am?"
"Probably not," Eidolon said. "But he's Owlman. Give him five minutes and a conspiracy board, he'll figure it out."
Rose sighed. "Yay. I'm a plot device."
"Team Three," Eidolon continued. "Lex, Savanna, Venus. You're with me."
Lex looked offended. "I'm not a field agent. I'm the bald one with genius-level intellect and magnetic bone structure."
"You also built the Quantum Trigger," Eidolon said. "You're the only one who can override its failsafe. Or short-circuit it. Or just shout at it in technobabble until it stops."
"And if I die?"
Venus gave a sweet, murderous smile. "Then we lose our favorite talking calculator."
Savanna, all wild curls and sniper-grade sass, loaded a mag into her rifle with a clack. "Try not to die. I'm low on good backup singers."
Lex sighed dramatically. "Fine. But I'm not sharing credit."
Eidolon took center stage. His cloak flared like it had choreography, because of course it did. He raised a hand—and space ripped.
Not metaphorically. Like, actual air peeled back like wrapping paper in a horror movie.
The rift revealed a corridor of white light, fractals, and things that should not legally exist outside a sci-fi fever dream.
"Is this even remotely legal?" Rose asked.
"On how many Earths?" Eidolon countered. "No. But we're improvising."
He looked around the roof.
"To summarize," he said. "Team One punches monsters. Team Two prevents timeline collapse. Team Three defies the universe, probably insults it, and maybe saves reality."
Lex groaned. "Why do I always get the reality-breaking assignments?"
"Because you're fun when you panic," Savanna replied.
"Stay alive," Eidolon said to Rose. "You're our tether to this Earth."
Rose's lip twitched. "And you?"
"I'll be back in fifteen minutes," Eidolon said. Then, after a beat: "Or we all die and time reboots itself into a musical."
He stepped through the portal.
Venus followed, red hair trailing like smoke. She winked at Diana before vanishing.
Savanna rolled her eyes. "God, I love our dumb plans." Then she walked through.
Lex looked heavenward. "Into the multiversal blender we go."
And he was gone.
Diana exhaled. "He didn't even tell us his plan."
Mera smiled. "He never does. That's half the thrill."
J'onn placed a hand on Rose's shoulder. "Stay close."
Behind them, the lightning cracked again.
Not as punctuation.
As curtain rise.
—
Syndicate Headquarters — Exterior — Night
The night buzzed with the kind of tension that makes your hair stand on end—unless you're Flash, who never had enough hair to begin with.
Flash zipped around the perimeter like a caffeine-fueled puppy on steroids. "Johnny Quick? Mate, you're less 'fastest man alive' and more 'slowest joke in the room.' Catch me if you can!" He left a sparkling blue afterimage spelling exactly that, because subtlety is overrated.
Johnny Quick—looking like he got lost on the way to a cosplay party and accidentally joined a villain convention—grinned like he'd just won an argument on Twitter. "Oi, Flash, you wanker! I'm the fastest thing this side of the multiverse. And I've got an Aussie accent to prove it. Bet you can't keep up with this!" He zoomed forward with a blur so intense it bent the streetlights like spoons in a magician's act.
Flash met him punch for punch, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Try me, Johnny. Your ego's got a speed limit, and I'm ready to ticket you."
Nearby, Power Ring emerged from the shadows like the dark knight of bad decisions, the green glow of his ring casting twisted shadows that looked suspiciously like he'd just insulted the whole multiverse. His voice dripping with sarcastic menace, "You think your speed dazzles me? My ring bends reality faster than your comebacks, love."
Power Girl cracked her knuckles with all the swagger of a teen who just found out her crush might text back. "Reality's about to get a serious upgrade—by me. Let's see how you handle a punch with a PhD in badassery." Sydney Sweeney nails that blend of sass and ice-cold fire.
High above, Hawkwoman circled like a leather-and-feather hurricane. Her voice sliced through the chaos: "Johnny, sweetheart, I'm gonna clip your wings and ground that arrogant mouth of yours." She swooped down, mace swinging with a snap that said, "I'm not here to make friends."
Cyborg was the voice of cool, deadpan tech wizardry, his vibe smooth and sharp as a monomolecular blade. "Power Ring's tapping into some seriously illegal sorcery. Heads up—he's trying to rewrite the laws of physics and ruin everyone's night."
From the shadows, Atomica moved with a blend of lethal precision and teenage rebellion, blades flickering like liquid silver. "I'm the poison in your tech, the glitch in your plan, and your worst nightmare in flats."
Johnny Quick zipped and zoomed, throwing punches with an Aussie twang that made you wonder if he was trying to start a bar fight instead of a battle. "Catch this, Flash! Bet you can't even spell victory without me." He fired off a smirk that screamed 'please punch me already.'
Flash shot back, "Mate, your spelling's almost as bad as your fashion sense." He darted past Johnny, who howled in frustration, "Oi! No one insults the quick!"
Power Ring sneered, his ring glowing brighter, summoning thorny green vines that twisted through the air like angry snakes on a bad day. "Let's see if your muscles can untangle this."
Power Girl planted her feet, cracking her knuckles. "Thorny vines? Cute. I was worried you'd try to insult my shoes." Then with a grin, she smashed through the vines, sending green tendrils snapping like twigs.
Hawkwoman landed in the middle of the chaos, mace spinning with an elegant snap. "Ringmaster, your tricks are this close to getting banned. Consider this your warning." She swung hard, shattering Power Ring's grip on reality—and his confidence.
Cyborg's voice came over comms, calm but deadly serious. "Atomica's incoming. And she's not here to make small talk."
Atomica slid through the battlefield like a shadow with sharp edges, blades flashing as she took out tech and muscle with equal ease. "Names Atomica. And your plans? Consider them... terminated." She winked at Cyborg, who replied with a rare smirk, "Welcome to the party."
Flash zigzagged through the fray, laughing like this was the best kind of chaos. "Hey, Atomica! Fancy a race? Loser buys coffee—and by coffee, I mean you clean the tech room."
Johnny Quick snarled, trying to keep up, but the Scarlet Speedster was more than a blur—he was an irritating, unstoppable force. "Your ego's the slowest thing around, Johnny. And that's saying something."
Hawkwoman landed next to Power Girl, smirking like they just owned the place. "We make a pretty lethal quartet, huh?"
Power Girl laughed, the sound sharp and victorious. "Only if you promise to save me a dance when this mess is over."
Power Ring stumbled, his ring flickering as Cyborg's EMP blast hit like a thunderclap. Power Girl seized the moment, punching through a collapsing shadow like a wrecking ball with wings.
Johnny Quick growled, "This ain't over, Flash. I'm just getting warmed up." He shot forward with another burst, lightning crackling, and a thousand more sarcastic Aussie insults ready to fly.
But for now, the Syndicate's murder circus was taking a serious beating—and Johnny Quick's ego was officially bruised.
—
Watchtower — Arrival Bay
The portal coughed them out like an overworked espresso machine ejecting used grounds. One by one, Diana, Mera, Hal, and Superman landed with practiced superhero grace — or, in Hal's case, with the finesse of a guy who tripped over his own ego mid-flight.
"Ugh," Hal muttered, brushing himself off. "I knew I should've recalibrated the ring's dimensional buffering. My spleen feels inverted."
The Watchtower gleamed around them like the inside of a spaceship designed by Apple and haunted by Shakespeare. Cold, polished metal. Quiet hum of power. The kind of silence that felt too quiet, like the universe was holding its breath.
Then Beta-9's voice purred to life over the comms. It was smooth, velvety, and had the kind of controlled sass that could shut down a Senate hearing with one eyebrow raise.
"Well, well. Look what the collapsing multiverse dragged in."
Diana's posture went straight-backed and imperial in .02 seconds. "Beta-9. Status."
"Batman is in Detainment Bay Theta. Alone. With Superwoman."
Mera raised an eyebrow. "You let him stay behind with her? Are we trying to get a soap opera crossover?"
"I'm not your nanny, Princess Mera. He overrode my lockdown protocols with brooding and Bat-code."
"That tracks," Hal muttered. "Guy probably sneezes in Morse."
Superman crossed his arms. The lights flickered a little. Not on purpose. Probably. "Take us there."
"Ooh, hold up. Kal, that new suit? Yes. Ten out of ten. Kryptonian couture. Very galaxy-saving chic."
Clark blinked, lips twitching. "Thank you, Beta."
The platform beneath them hummed and lowered like a dramatic elevator in a villain's lair. Lights chased the edges, trying too hard to be moody. Hal looked bored.
"So," he said. "Who wants to place bets on whether she's chained up or monologuing about patriarchy?"
Mera rolled her eyes. "You sound threatened."
"I am threatened. She's terrifying."
Diana didn't speak. She was already reaching for her blade.
—
Detainment Bay Theta
The doors parted with a hiss that sounded vaguely judgmental. Inside, the mood was pure Netflix thriller: dim lights, glowing force fields, and two people radiating enough sexual tension to power Gotham.
Batman stood in front of the cell, cape pooling around him like he'd just brooded his way out of a noir film. Arms crossed. Face like someone had insulted his trauma.
Across the cell stood Superwoman.
Chains. Heels. Red lipstick the color of spilled sin. Her smirk said she could eat a city and ask for dessert.
"Well," she purred, eyeing Diana like a challenge. "The welcome wagon brought the tiara brigade."
Diana stepped forward, voice level and lethal. "We're not here to exchange pleasantries."
"No, you never are," Superwoman said, leaning lazily against the wall. "All sword and silence. It's like looking in a very judgy mirror."
Hal gave a little wave. "Hi. I'm here too. Thanks for not murdering anyone this week."
Superwoman smiled sweetly. "Yet."
Beta-9's voice came through again, like the galaxy's most glamorous GPS.
"She's already tried to break the cell. Twice. Density raised thirty-five percent. Still flirts through it."
Superwoman winked at Superman. "Clark. You never call. You never visit."
"You're in a reinforced cell on a space station," he said. "Visiting hours are complicated."
Batman didn't turn around. "She knows where Owlman is going next."
Mera stepped up beside him. "And she's just waiting for us to beg?"
"Please," Superwoman scoffed. "I don't need you to beg. But it would be entertaining."
Diana's fingers flexed on her hilt. "Give me one reason not to end this now."
"Because I'm your best shot at not watching Earth-19 get flattened like a pancake at a Titan orgy."
Clark raised an eyebrow. "She has a point. Unfortunately."
Beta-9 chimed in, far too pleased.
"Speaking of interdimensional pancakes: Owlman just activated the Omega Lock on Earth-19. And he's brought their Luthor along."
Hal winced. "Alternate universe Luthor? Those guys are always worse."
"Worse how?" Mera asked.
"Less bald. More evil."
Diana turned to Batman. "We move now."
He nodded. "She comes with us."
All four turned to stare.
Mera choked. "You what?"
"She fought Owlman off-world and lived."
Superwoman beamed like a villain who'd just been promoted. "Told you he liked me."
Diana stepped close enough for sparks. "One mistake. One word. And I end you."
Superwoman grinned. "First the sword, now the threats. Careful. People might start thinking you like me."
Beta-9 groaned dramatically.
"Oh no. It's happening again. The team-up arc. Somebody bring popcorn. I'm updating the snark buffers."
Superman looked at the cell, then at his teammates. "Let her out. But I'm watching her."
"Of course you are," Superwoman said, blowing him a kiss.
The force field dropped. Chains clattered. And the Watchtower suddenly felt a whole lot more crowded.
War was coming. But for now?
It was going to be a very long elevator ride.
—
Team Three crash-landed into reality like someone had rage-quit physics.
The air was thick with static, shimmering with raw equations that zipped along the walls like neon spiders. Fractals bloomed. Geometry blinked. Gravity was doing jazz hands. And Lex, currently regretting every decision that led him to this moment, muttered:
"This place looks like Stephen Hawking and Salvador Dali had a kid and then sent it to MIT."
Venus glanced around, red hair glowing like flame in the math-light. "On a scale of 'eco-nightmare' to 'Pinterest horror,' I'd give it a solid 'who summoned Cthulhu with a calculator.'"
Savanna snorted, flipping her rifle up with effortless grace. "Feels like murder weather. Ten bucks says there's a trap behind that geometry wall that looks like it's judging me."
"We're standing inside a living rift in space-time," Lex said flatly. "There are no walls. Just entropy, bad decisions, and—"
"—your sparkling personality," Eidolon added, voice as dry as the Sahara on laundry day.
He hadn't even looked up. He walked through the Rift like he owned the patent, cloak trailing behind him like a red banner of fabulous doom.
"I still vote trap," Savanna said.
They passed through the final fold of the corridor—where logic gave up and went to cry in a corner—and entered a room made entirely of obsidian, bad intentions, and what could generously be called villain ambiance.
And right there, standing like a photoshoot for "Most Likely to Monologue You to Death":
Owlman.
Cape like liquid shadow. Eyes like someone replaced his soul with a starless void. Smirk like he'd just blackmailed your therapist. Basically: Batman in an owl suit, but meaner.
To his right stood The Outsider—a ghostly Alfred with all the warmth of a guillotine. White gloves. Calm demeanor. Definitely had a body count that included world leaders and breakfast cereal mascots.
To Owlman's left was the third piece of the evil trifecta:
Earth-19 Lex.
Imagine Lex Luthor, but with The Rock's gym routine and a face carved by testosterone and war crimes. He looked like he could bench-press a satellite and then file your taxes with his pinky.
"Well," Owlman said, voice sharp enough to file patents, "if it isn't the cleverest man in twelve timelines and his backup singers."
Eidolon didn't stop walking. He just tilted his head slightly, like an aristocrat who'd spotted a poorly ironed cravat.
"Owlman. Still doing the Dollar Store Nietzsche cosplay, I see."
Outsider tilted his head in a gesture that might've meant confusion. Or intent to dismember.
"We were expecting you," he said pleasantly. "And yet… somehow still disappointed."
Venus took one step in front of Lex, vines already whispering across the floor like green lightning.
Lex lifted a brow. "Lovely setup. The whole haunted Batcave aesthetic really says, 'I peaked at trauma.'"
Earth-19 Lex cracked his knuckles. The sound was seismic.
"I built this place with my bare hands," he said. "Along with a dozen other toys your soft hands couldn't survive assembling."
Lex gave him the most withering once-over in the multiverse. "Ah, so you're the brawn to my brain. Cute. Must be fun, solving quantum equations between protein shakes."
Savanna grinned. "Do you lift, or do you just punch math until it makes sense?"
"Both," Earth-19 Lex said proudly.
Eidolon clicked his tongue. "I liked it better when evil geniuses were skinny and emotionally constipated. At least then they had monologues."
Owlman smirked, and it was the kind of smirk that made you want to check your will.
"Oh, I have monologues," he said. "But I already won. The Quantum Trigger is rebuilt. You're just… here for the fireworks."
Eidolon's cloak flared, even though there was no wind. (The cloak had vibes, okay?)
"You'd be surprised what I can do with thirty seconds and unreasonable levels of spite," he said.
Outsider raised a brow. "You unmade the Arcturus Nexus with a spoon. That was… you?"
"Yes," Eidolon said coolly. "I was improvising. It was either that or beat the time god with a sock full of runes."
Venus stepped forward. "You've rebuilt the Trigger. Then you know it's unstable."
"No," Earth-19 Lex growled. "It's perfect."
Lex pulled a glowing orb from his belt. A hologram ignited—blueprints of the original Trigger, spinning like a drunk sun.
"You built a knockoff," Lex said. "Without the key. It's like trying to power a fusion reactor with ego and CrossFit."
Owlman raised a hand. Dangling from his fingers was a sliver of glowing green metal. But not just metal—runes glowed across its surface like kryptonite had gone to Hogwarts.
Lex froze.
So did Venus.
Savanna's voice went low and lethal. "That's the Arc-Core."
Venus whispered, "He found it."
Eidolon stepped forward. Every movement was a threat dressed in elegance.
"Then this is simple," he said. "We take the Core. We take the Trigger. We stop this madness before it nukes the multiverse and rewrites reality as a musical starring the Outsider."
Owlman raised an eyebrow.
"That would be a vast improvement," Outsider said.
"Begin," Owlman ordered.
All hell broke loose.
Savanna moved first—vanishing into blur and claws, ricocheting off the walls like a pinball of fury. Her bullets shredded air.
Venus unleashed a forest's worth of vines—razor-edged, flaming at the tips, coiling toward the Core with a hiss.
Lex launched a gravity mine. The room bent around it, flickering with warping fields.
Eidolon?
He walked.
Then flicked his wrist.
A sword bloomed from nowhere—constructed from pure spellcraft, humming with impossible energy. He swept it once, casually, and a shockwave rolled across the chamber like a magical tsunami.
Outsider blocked it with a silver tray.
(Yes. Really.)
Owlman dove into the chaos, trading blows with Eidolon, his cape fluttering like a bat wing caught in a storm. It was an elegant, terrifying dance—grit versus grace.
Eidolon parried one strike with a smirk.
"Still using the 'brooding trauma' style, I see," he said. "Do you ever fight without a tragic backstory?"
"I am the tragic backstory," Owlman snapped.
"Oh good," Eidolon said. "Then I don't have to hold back."
Behind them, the Arc-Core pulsed.
Once.
Twice.
Each glow brighter than the last.
Like it was counting down.
To something.
Venus glanced back mid-strike. "Guys?"
Lex checked his wristband.
Savanna kicked Earth-19 Lex into a support beam with a very satisfying crunch.
Eidolon ducked under a blade and looked back.
Then sighed.
"Yep," he muttered. "It's always a countdown."
—
The walls hiccuped.
Yes, hiccuped. Like the universe had just been startled by its own bad decisions and was trying to apologize with a burp.
Then: BOOM.
Reality split open like a kid peeling a juice box the wrong way, and through the yawning wound of space-time stepped the reinforcements. Or more accurately? Crashed, swaggered, and exploded through like gods who'd missed their coffee.
Superman landed first, because of course he did. The jawline alone made Owlman twitch. Red cloak snapping like a royal slap, eyes glowing the color of bad day incoming, he stood like a thunderstorm in human form.
Right behind him came Diana, silent, deadly, sword drawn, looking like she wanted to write a Greek tragedy across Owlman's face. And just behind her, in a twinkle of emerald and attitude, floated Hal Jordan, chewing gum like it owed him rent.
"So," he said, floating upside down. "Who broke the universe this time?"
Mera crash-landed beside him in a swirl of water and rage, trident spinning with the grace of a ballerina and the threat level of a sea god's divorce lawyer. Her hair billowed like underwater fire. Her glare? Arctic.
And then...
Batman walked through the breach. No cape flare. No grand pose. Just that classic growl and the sense that somewhere, someone had already regretted a decision.
Superwoman, chained but unbothered in the middle of the chaos, raised her brows. "Oooh. That was a solid entrance. Strong nine out of ten. Though, no brooding fog. Missed opportunity."
"Stay quiet," Diana said. Her voice could've cut through granite. Or hearts. Or pants, judging by Eidolon's expression.
Superwoman smirked. "Make me, princess. Seriously. Make. My. Day."
Owlman turned, and for a second — just a second — something in his eyes flickered. Not fear. Not surprise.
History.
"You," he said, voice gravel-dipped.
Batman stepped forward. "Thomas Wayne Jr."
Venus blinked. "Wait. That's his brother?"
"Correction," Owlman said smoothly, his jaw clenching with smug. "Was. I killed the rest. I'm the only Wayne that mattered."
Batman didn't blink. Didn't flinch. Just said, "You killed Bruce."
"I freed him," Owlman said, like that was a TED Talk. "From weakness. From hope. From you."
The temperature dipped like it had heard the word 'divorce'.
Superman stepped forward, arms crossed, eyes glowing hotter. "You brought the Arc-Core into a quantum rift with a destabilized trigger."
Earth-19 Lex — aka Roid-rage with a PhD in smug — grunted. "It's perfect. We evolved the design."
"No," Clark said. Calm. Deadly. Like if your dad was also a god. "You built a bomb with delusions of grandeur."
"Oh look," Earth-19 Lex said, stepping forward like protein powder was a personality trait. "The alien thinks he's an engineer."
Our Lex — bald, Tony Stark-grade genius with cheekbones sharp enough to file patents — rolled his eyes. "He understands physics. You're just mad the Core doesn't come with a dumbbell attachment."
Eidolon raised a hand. "Right. While the two Lexes battle it out for the gold medal in Macho Science Olympics, we've got thirty-seven seconds before the Arc-Core turns this chamber into a Broadway remix of Armageddon."
Savanna — all curves, claws, and catastrophe — fired at a drone, hissed, "Less talk! More punch! Flirt after we survive!"
Venus threw up a wall of vines, shielding Hal and Mera. "That Core's pulsing like a hormonal teenager on Red Bull!"
Batman turned to Lex. "Can you shut it down?"
Lex already had his gauntlet open. Glowing equations danced across his palm. "Sure. As long as you like math that makes your brain cry. Buy me time."
Eidolon cracked his neck. Smiled.
"I've got the countdown."
He stepped forward like British sass incarnate, sketching glowing runes midair with fingers that screamed, I went to Hogwarts, but then made it hotter. Reality bent around him. Time slowed. The Core's pulse turned sluggish, heartbeat caught between ticks.
"I can hold it for thirty seconds," he said. Voice strained. "Maybe forty if I start sacrificing internal organs."
Superwoman gave a sultry little whistle. "Okay, that's hot."
Venus elbowed her. "Back off, he's mine."
"Actually," Savanna said, casually dismembering a drone, "he's ours. We agreed."
"Girls," Eidolon said sweetly, eyes glowing white. "Maybe later. When we're not seconds from dying."
Owlman launched himself at Batman.
They collided like philosophies in a cage match. Fist met fist. Ideals met vengeance. Armor cracked. Trauma flared. It was violence in slow motion.
"You could've been like me!" Owlman snarled.
"Exactly," Batman replied. And punched him across the room.
Superman tackled Earth-19 Lex. The wall didn't survive. Earth-19 Lex grinned. "You're strong. But I'm stronger here."
Gravity surged. Superman staggered.
"I bench-press dark matter, sunshine," Earth-19 Lex growled.
Clark didn't blink. "That's adorable."
He punched him through three walls and a metric ton of math.
Savanna blurred into Outsider, claws flashing. He blocked with his tray. A tray. Because Andi Serkis clearly moonlights as Alfred with attitude.
Mera summoned a tidal vortex, slamming it into Owlman mid-fight.
Diana followed with her blade, a whirlwind of gold and fury. "You're not even a shadow of him."
The Arc-Core pulsed again.
Lex cursed. "It's rewriting itself! I need the master override!"
Owlman made a break for it.
Batman's grappling hook caught his ankle. Yanked.
"Stay down."
"Make me."
Lex, ignoring them all, ripped the override from Earth-19 Lex's gauntlet — burning his palm — and jammed it into the Core.
The Arc-Core screamed. Magic surged. Physics gave the middle finger. Reality twitched.
Eidolon, eyes blazing white, shouted, "NOW, LUTHOR!"
Lex hit the key.
Light vanished.
Time snapped back.
Silence. Heavy. Fragile.
Then Superwoman clapped. "Well. That wasn't entirely a disaster."
Batman looked down at Owlman. Out cold. Chained. Bruised.
"This isn't over."
Superman put a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe. But for once, we're ahead of the fallout."
Beta-9's voice chimed in. "Reminder: We've still broken five laws of physics, committed two war crimes, and are holding one suspiciously smug butler."
Savanna raised a hand. "Can I keep the tray?"
Outsider, from the floor, blinked. "No."
Eidolon sat down, robes folding like they had manners. "I require tea. And a nap. Possibly in a better universe."
Venus and Savanna moved toward him.
Clark, watching, nudged Diana. "Should we stop that?"
Diana sheathed her blade. "If they break him, we'll find another wizard."
Lex dusted himself off. "You can't. I'm irreplaceable."
Mera smirked. "No. You're Lex."
And for once?
That was enough.
—
The chamber still thrummed with leftover chaos. The Arc-Core was dormant. The rift was sealed. Physics was only mostly broken. A miracle, really.
But in the center of the wreckage, Batman knelt beside the shattered form of Owlman.
Broken nose. Dislocated shoulder. Armor cracked like eggshell. His mask had split across the left side, exposing one eye—a pale blue ghost of what Bruce could have been if raised in shadows rather than silence.
Batman said nothing as he pulled a pair of reinforced meta-restraint cuffs from his belt. He didn't speak. He didn't gloat.
He just clicked the first cuff onto Owlman's wrist.
That was the trigger.
"Don't," Owlman rasped, blood trailing from his lips. "You don't get to cage me."
"You're not walking out of here free," Batman replied, voice like obsidian breaking ice. "You're going to face justice."
"I am justice," Owlman hissed, trying to sit up. "The final form. The only honest evolution of the lie we both are."
Batman clicked the second cuff shut. The restraints locked with a hiss of suppressed tech and runes.
Owlman's face twisted—not in pain, but in insult.
"I would rather die than rot in a cell like a common failure," he spat.
"Then it's a good thing I didn't ask for your preference."
Owlman gave a low, humorless chuckle. "Predictable. Always the jailor. Never the executioner. That's your flaw, Bruce."
"I'm not him," Batman said. "And you're not me."
"Of course I am," Owlman said, voice dropping to a low growl. "I'm what you become when hope burns out. I'm you without your precious code. Without the myth. Without the mask of mercy."
Diana stepped forward, but Batman raised a hand. He didn't take his eyes off Owlman.
"Spare me the poetry," he said coldly. "You're just another tyrant who thought murder made you special."
And that's when Owlman smiled.
Not smug. Not mocking.
Calm.
Prepared.
"I knew I might lose," he said, as if delivering his grocery list. "So I made sure no one would win."
There was a click.
A barely-audible hiss escaped from beneath the armor on his left bicep—right where the gauntlet had cracked earlier in the fight.
Diana surged forward instantly. "He's triggered a failsafe!"
But Batman was already moving, ripping the gauntlet open—
Too late.
A shimmer of silver mist puffed into the air.
"Neurotoxin," Eidolon muttered from the back, eyes flaring white as he tried to contain the gas in a ward. "God-tier fast. Blood-borne. Targeted."
Owlman's smile widened as blood trickled from his nose.
"You think you won," he whispered, "but all you did was chain a ghost."
His eyes rolled back.
Batman caught him as he collapsed, eyes narrowing beneath the cowl.
"No," he said under his breath. "You don't get to die that easily."
Lex appeared beside him, already scanning Owlman's vitals with a gauntlet-mounted scanner. "Pulse fading. His metabolism's forcing the toxin through every system like it's rushing to an afterparty in hell."
"Can you counter it?" Diana asked sharply.
"I'm Lex Luthor," Lex snapped. "I can invent a new element by lunchtime. But not if he flatlines in thirty seconds."
"Then stop monologuing," Mera barked, tossing him a vial from her belt. "Atlantean nanoshock—flushes anything that isn't blood or vengeance."
Lex didn't ask questions.
He jammed the vial into Owlman's neck.
The man jerked.
Gasped.
Coughed up more blood.
Then slumped.
Lex exhaled. "He's alive. Barely. But he's going to wish he wasn't."
Savanna peered over Lex's shoulder. "He really would've rather died, huh?"
Venus shook her head. "Men like him always do. They build entire identities around control. Losing—being contained—that's the real death."
Eidolon, still glowing faintly, looked down at the restrained body. "Fitting then, that he ends in a prison of his own design."
Batman didn't answer. He just stood slowly, his cape falling around him like a closing curtain.
"Prep a dimensional cell," he said. "One keyed to his frequency."
Hal Jordan raised a brow. "You planning on visiting?"
Batman turned, just enough for his shadow to stretch across the still-smoking floor.
"No," he said. "I'm planning on making sure he never escapes."
Then, after a long pause, he added quietly, "...I don't want to see my reflection again."
And for once, no one had a comeback.
Not even Eidolon.
Though, to be fair, he was busy trying to flirt with Diana and Mera while discreetly wiping a nosebleed.
---
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