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Inside the vessel bound for Warworld, silence clung to the air like a suffocating shroud. It wasn't the silence of peace, but of tension — thick, sharp, and uncomfortable. Jason, however, was unfazed. Awkward silence was just another day for him. In truth, he almost found it amusing; lowkey, he respected Superman and the League. Their philosophies diverged, that was all. But with Diana and John now standing at his side, the others viewed them as defectors — traitors, even.
The ship itself seemed divided down the middle. Jason, Martian Manhunter, and John Stewart sat on one side. On the other, Superman, Hal Jordan, and Captain Atom. Two camps, bound by necessity, not trust. Only Atom and Jason wore specialized breathing masks, designed to sustain them for long stretches in the void of space. The others — veterans of interstellar combat — needed no such aid.
Jason finally broke the stillness. "So… uh… have you prepared what you're gonna say?" He turned toward Superman, tone casual, almost teasing.
Superman's eyes flicked to him, the irritation clear, though tempered by restraint. He didn't like Jason — not even a little — but he knew better than to dismiss him. Without Jason's maneuvering at the press conference, public trust in the League would have crumbled far worse than it already had. With a sigh, he answered, "Yes. The Vice President prepared a directive. We also have multilingual translators onboard. That should account for communication barriers."
"Good, good," Jason muttered, nodding with mock approval. "You never know, right? Still… this will end badly. No matter how you dress it up, reasoning with a Warlord who commands a moon-sized weapon called Warworld doesn't exactly scream 'happy ending.'" He leaned back in his chair, exhaling.
His gaze slid to Hal Jordan. "What about you, Hal? John told me the Guardians have abandoned Earth. Care to explain why? Or maybe shed light on who exactly this mysterious being is — the one who claimed Earth as his property?"
Hal stiffened. Jason's words cut in two ways. First, because Jason refused to use his hero title, addressing him bluntly by name — a sharp reminder that Jason knew their identities without reservation. Second, because Jason was pressing him with questions he himself had no answers to.
Hal grit his teeth, but answered, his voice edged. "I don't know. I've never seen the Guardians this closed off. But we've been given permission to defend our homeworld regardless. That's all that matters right now."
Jason's frown deepened. "So even in space, corruption runs deep. The so-called Green Lantern Corps — a universal force of justice — too scared to deliver actual justice." His tone dripped with scorn.
Superman cut in sharply, annoyance plain in his voice. "Why are you trying to provoke him? It's not Hal's decision. Don't put that weight on him. He isn't corrupt."
Jason lifted his hands slightly, almost in mock surrender. "Never said he was. If anything, I believe Hal will give those Guardians an earful when this is over. All I'm saying…" His eyes narrowed. "It's better not to rely on foreign powers. Earth should stand on its own."
Superman's jaw tightened, a reply forming on his tongue — but before it could surface, Captain Atom's voice rang out from the cockpit.
"Enough chatter. We're zeroing in." His hands moved over the controls, tension in every motion. "Warworld is up ahead."
Through the viewport, the void of space seemed to tremble as a colossal shadow crept into view — a mechanical moon, bristling with unimaginable power.
....
The great moon-sized fortress loomed before them, its jagged metallic ridges bristling with cannons and towers, a war engine carved into the shape of a world. The Warworld.
From their ship, the transmission went live, and Superman stepped forward, voice steady and commanding.
"This is Superman of Earth. We come as delegates, speaking on behalf of the planet and its people. We seek peaceful dialogue before any hostile actions are taken."
For a moment, silence. Then the screens lit up with the image of Mongul — the tyrant himself, seated on a throne of iron and flame. His golden skin and monstrous bulk filled the view, his eyes burning with contempt.
"Peace?" His voice was like thunder. "There will be no peace. You misunderstand your position, Kryptonian. I cannot allow a world as rich, as strong, as full of potential as Earth… to fall into the hands of my enemies."
The words struck like a blade, leaving both Superman and Jason momentarily curious, their eyes narrowing. Jason leaned forward slightly, his voice sharp.
"Enemies? Then answer me this—who is this entity that claimed Earth? And why should his claim stand?"
Mongul's grin widened into something cruel. "The claim stands because it comes from the King of Apokolips himself. Darkseid. For two thousand years his word has been law across the stars. No planet has survived a single year after he marked it as his."
Superman's fists clenched at his sides, his tone unwavering. "Then hear this. Earth will handle its own problems. If Darkseid comes, we'll repel him—like we've repelled every invader before. But that still leaves you. Why are you here, Mongul?"
The tyrant's expression darkened, his rage surfacing. "Why? It should be obvious. I am here to end Earth. Better for it to burn, better for it to be reduced to ruins, than to be twisted into yet another fortress that feeds Apokolips and strengthens Darkseid's hand."
The air inside the ship grew sharp, the tension coiled like a spring. Superman's eyes hardened, his voice cutting. "Then let me be clear. Earth will defend itself—against Darkseid, and against you. Leave, or prepare for battle."
Mongul leaned back on his throne and laughed, a booming sound that echoed through the comms. "You dare threaten me? I am a destroyer of planets. Worlds burn at my command."
Jason smirked, leaning into the screen, his tone laced with challenge. "Me too. After I take that ship of yours."
The comms died mid-transmission, the feed going static like a blunt cut. On the Warworld's surface, panels opened and the moon ripped itself like a maw—turrets, missile spines, cannon arrays folding into position. A dark, mechanical bloom of weaponry filled the view.
Hal's voice was tight over the ship's speakers. "Well… how shall we handle this?"
Jason didn't even look flustered. He smiled — that small, dangerous smile that never quite reached his eyes. "We fall back," he said. "His ship is slower than ours. We don't slug it out here. We pull back, buy time, marshal everything, and hit him when he gets closer to Earth. Prepare for full war."
"It's the rockets," Hal snapped. "What about the rockets aimed at us?"
The lead indicators flared red—twenty projectiles, long-range interceptors, folding drones: a lethal rain heading straight for their hull.
Jason's grin widened, lazy and almost bored. "Oh. Those."
Before anyone could register the arrogance of the tone, each missile fractured—split cleanly down the center like a line drawn through them. Fragments peeled away from their cores, trajectories buckled, guidance systems stuttered. On the ship's sensors the projectiles went from a screaming threat to two harmless trails of debris arcing wide of them.
"Let us return, shall we?" Jason said, voice smooth as a velvet blade, like he hadn't just severed twenty rockets a few clicks from the hull.
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If you Like this story! Check out my other storys ! Lord of Chaos In Dc! and Dragon Slayer in Marvel!
AND
If you wish to read more or simply support me just because ? than check out my patreon at
"https://www.patreon.com/Riadooo"
You can Get Access to 3 More Chapters OR 7 More Chapters if you want !