The Wayne Manor laboratory hummed softly with the pulse of discovery. Lucius Fox, sleeves rolled up, stood at a reinforced workbench, eyes locked on the latest project: a heavily modified Saiyan scouter. The device, once battered and alien, now gleamed with WayneTech's signature blue circuitry and a custom interface. Thomas Wayne watched from the doorway, curiosity and caution warring in his gaze.
Lucius adjusted a dial. "We've increased the sensor range tenfold. If this works, we can map strength signatures across the city—maybe even the whole world."
Thomas nodded slowly. "Keep it at low power for now. Saiyan tech isn't designed for Earth's atmosphere. We don't know how it'll react."
Lucius smiled confidently. "Failsafes are solid. What could possibly—"
Suddenly, the scouter whined, its screen flickering wildly before erupting into a cascade of red and gold. Alien symbols flashed urgently. Lucius reached for the power switch, but the device pulsed, refusing to shut down.
"Something's wrong," Lucius muttered, fingers flying over the controls. "It's locked up."
Thomas stepped forward, voice sharp. "Cut the main power."
Lucius hesitated, then yanked the emergency disconnect. The display froze, then resolved into a swirling global map overlaid with thousands—no, millions—of tiny red dots.
They stared in silence.
The scouter's AI zoomed in, as if guided by unseen logic, focusing on Earth's surface. Each dot pulsed with a number—strength signatures from across the planet.
"Is this even possible?" Lucius whispered.
Thomas leaned closer, eyes wide. "It's reading power levels. All of them."
The view narrowed to North America, then the eastern seaboard, finally Gotham City. The map was a sea of faint red dots—most between 20 and 60, typical human ranges. But scattered among them were brighter dots: 100, 150, even 200.
Thomas tapped a dot. "Two hundred? No human should be that strong."
Lucius recalibrated. "It's not just Gotham. Look here." He dragged the map west to a small town in Kansas. A bright red dot pulsed near Smallville, its number fluctuating wildly—far above any in Gotham.
Thomas's mind raced. "Unless… there are others like Ojaga. Or something even stronger."
The scan revealed clusters of high readings near Metropolis, Central City, and even the waters near Atlantis. Each dot told a story—hidden power, secrets waiting to be uncovered.
Thomas stepped back, unease settling in. "If this data leaks… we can't let that happen."
Lucius nodded grimly. "We lock it down. No one else sees this."
They powered down the scouter, sealing it in a lead-lined case. Earth was far from ordinary. There were beings—dozens, maybe millions—capable of feats beyond human understanding.
Upstairs, the world felt simpler. In the quiet library, Ojaga and Bruce sat across a multifold chessboard, pieces glinting in the afternoon light.
Bruce tapped his knight thoughtfully. "You always think three moves ahead."
Ojaga smiled faintly, eyes distant. "Sometimes, you have to. The world isn't always fair."
Bruce grinned, sliding his bishop forward. "But it's more fun when you're not alone."
Ojaga nodded, feeling the truth. For all his strength and secrets, moments like these—quiet competition, shared laughter—kept him grounded.
The game went on as the city buzzed outside, unaware of the hidden powers watching from the shadows.
Down in the lab, Thomas made a final note in his journal:
Earth is not what it seems. We are not alone. I must protect Ojaga—and Bruce. The world is changing.
As evening fell, Wayne Manor stood silent and watchful. The brothers, side by side, faced the unknown with courage and curiosity.
And far beyond Gotham, other red dots flickered on the scouter's map—each one a story waiting to unfold.