Superman was the first to move, stepping forward, his cape swaying gently. His blue eyes, usually unwavering in their conviction, now held a deep earnestness, a plea for understanding. He knew force was useless here. This was a battle of ideals.
"We don't protect them," Superman began, his voice calm yet firm, addressing the beings core bewilderment. "We protect the right to choose. Every life holds that right. Dr. Watson, Lex Luthor, Amanda Waller... they will answer for their crimes. But they will answer to the law, to a system built by people, for people. We don't get to decide who lives and dies, no one does."
He gestured around the chaotic lab. "We came here to stop Cadmus because they tried to control, to take away choice. But we don't become what we fight. We don't extinguish a life, no matter how corrupted, because in doing so, we extinguish the very principle we stand for."
Batman stepped up beside him, his voice a gravelly counterpoint to Superman's idealism, but no less resolute. "Justice isn't a simple act of removal. It's a complex, often agonizing process. It's about accountability, yes, but also about the lessons learned, the societal dialogue that comes from confronting evil, not simply making it vanish. If we just erase every 'wrong' thing, we erase the possibility of growth, of redemption, even of understanding why those wrongs occurred. We become the ultimate judge, jury, and executioner, accountable to no one but ourselves. That is not justice; that is absolute power without responsibility."
Azrael listened, his head tilted almost imperceptibly, his vast, nebular eyes absorbing their words, not just as sound, but as intricate patterns of meaning, emotion, and philosophical construct. He perceived the sincerity in Superman's desire to protect, the unwavering logic in Batman's principles. He saw the threads of their beliefs, intertwined with the very fabric of the world they sought to protect, a world he was only just beginning to truly experience through his nascent human soul.
The stark simplicity of his own black-and-white logic began to waver, just slightly. "Control... choice..." he murmured, the words alien on his tongue, yet resonating with a newfound understanding. He had simply removed the controller, as he understood it. They spoke of choosing not to control, even the controllers. The concept was bewildering, a new dimension to his reality.
Then, Azrael's nebular eyes shimmered, not with intent to act, but with the subtle activation of Causal Insight. He peered into the immediate, probable futures stemming from the League's current actions, specifically regarding Waller and Luthor. He saw the legal battles, the loopholes, the political maneuvering. He saw Waller, through sheer cunning, navigating the system to minimize her own fallout, ultimately walking away with some level of power and influence intact, her future less constrained than her current predicament suggested. He saw Luthor, always a step ahead, leveraging his wealth and connections to escape severe repercussions, eventually resuming his position as a menacing shadow over Metropolis. He saw the very 'justice' they championed, for these two at least, leading to them not facing consequences proportional to the suffering Azrael had seen them inflict.
His head snapped back, his nebular eyes flaring with renewed confusion, and a hint of something akin to incredulity. He gestured at Luthor and Waller, then back to Superman and Batman.
"You say 'justice'... you say 'accountability'," Azrael's voice rose, the childlike bewilderment evident. "But I see... I see they will simply walk away. Not truly stopped. Not truly held accountable. I see the suffering they will continue to sow, just in different ways. You allow this? You call this 'justice'?"
Wonder Woman stepped forward, her expression resolute but empathetic. "It is not perfect. We know that. The path of justice, of freedom, is often messy, and imperfect. But it is humanity's path. It is the path where people, all people, can learn, can grow, can choose. Even those who choose wrong. Their freedom to choose also means their freedom to fail to be good. And it is the freedom of others to choose to fight their wrong, to build a better world despite them. That is the burden, and the glory, of free will."
She continued, her voice softening, "To simply erase the consequence, to simply remove the 'wrong,' is to deny the struggle. It denies humanity its evolution. It denies the very lessons that make us who we are. It would be a perfect peace, perhaps, but a peace without true meaning, chosen by none but you."
As Wonder Woman spoke, Azrael's nebular eyes, still actively engaged, processed her words, comparing them against the causal probabilities he had just witnessed, and against the vast cosmic understanding of existence he possessed. The tension settled, replaced by a profound, internal hum within Azrael. He lifted his hand, not towards Luthor or Waller, but towards the empty space where Dr. Watson had vanished.
With a soft, almost imperceptible exhalation, as if merely breathing life into the void, the threads of reality shimmered. Slowly, impossibly, the form of Dr. Watson began to coalesce, his features contorting in a silent scream that had been paused in time. He blinked, gasping, looking around the room with utter bewilderment and terror, completely unaware of his temporary non-existence. He was back, whole and tangible, though surely deeply traumatized by an experience he couldn't quite grasp.
Then, as Dr. Watson stumbled and fell, Azrael's intense, nebular gaze slowly, slowly began to recede. The intricate floral patterns in his irises collapsed back inwards. The swirling cosmic dust in his sclera faded, replaced by the innocent, startling baby blue of his inactive irises. His black hair seemed to darken further against the pallor of his skin, a stark contrast that emphasized his childlike purity amidst immense power.
He looked at Dr. Watson, then at the Justice League, his baby blue eyes wide with a new kind of curiosity, no longer fixed on judgment, but on the profound, bewildering landscape of human choice. He had seen their way, witnessed its imperfections, but also its deeply held principles. And, like a child experimenting with a profound new toy, he had chosen to undo his previous act, to see what their way would truly mean.
The silence that followed was different now – laced not with terror, but with a fragile, almost hopeful awe. The Justice League stared at Azrael, at the returned Dr. Watson, and then back at the being who held such power. This was not a fight.
The silence in the Cadmus lab was thick, a fragile membrane stretched over the recent chaos. Dr. Watson, gasping for air, scrambled backward from the void that had briefly claimed him, his eyes wide with an unfathomable terror. Lex Luthor and Amanda Waller remained subdued, their usual composure finally shattered by the raw, inexplicable power they had just witnessed. Azrael, his baby-blue eyes now passive but observant, floated serenely amidst the debris of his shattered containment.
It was Batman who broke the spell. His voice, calm and authoritative, sliced through the stunned air. "Cyborg, secure Luthor and Waller. Standard detainment protocols. Martian Manhunter, work with Cyborg to ensure no one else tries to escape or interfere. Flash, Supergirl, assist any remaining Cadmus personnel who are injured but not hostile. Wonder Woman, monitor him. Superman, stay ready."
Cyborg immediately moved, his cybernetic arm extending to lock down Luthor's and Waller's restraints, ensuring no more tricks. Martian Manhunter's eyes glowed, his mental presence expanding to sweep the area, confirming no hidden threats or escape attempts. Flash zipped around the sprawling lab, a blur of red, quickly checking on terrified scientists who huddled in corners. Supergirl, still shaken by her encounter with Azrael, knelt beside a cowering technician, offering a reassuring hand.
Wonder Woman kept her gaze fixed on the powerful being. Her lasso, seemingly repaired it self, still coiled in her hand, silent promise of intervention if needed, but her expression held more awe than aggression. "Tell us," she began, her voice firm but not challenging. "What is your name?"
Azrael's gaze shifted to her, the innocent blue depths showing a flicker of puzzlement. "I do not have a name," he stated, his voice still resonating with profound clarity. "I simply am."
Constantine, having finally lit a cigarette with a flick of his thumb, blew out a stream of smoke, his eyes fixed on the serene figure. A strange, knowing grin slowly spread across his face, tinged with a touch of grim respect. "No name, eh? Well, that won't do. Especially after what you just did to old Doc Watson. Blinked him right out of existence, clean as a whistle, like death itself just touched him." He took another drag, then pointed the cigarette at the being. "I think I'll call you Azrael. The Angel of Death. Fits, don't it? For someone who can just... erase."
Manny's ethereal form, which had been hovering with quiet intensity, snapped toward Constantine. His normally calm features twisted into an almost incredulous glare. "Constantine! Do you grasp the weight of that name? It is the designation of an Archangel, a divine agent of the Most High! To bestow it upon... this one... is to invite unimaginable scrutiny!"
Constantine merely shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. "Well, he certainly seems to fit the bill for the 'unimaginable' part, doesn't he, mate? Besides, it's just a name. What's Heaven gonna do? Send down a celestial cease-and-desist?"
Manny let out a low, frustrated growl that vibrated through the air. "I must leave. I must inform Heaven of these... changes." Without another word, his form shimmered and dissolved, vanishing from the lab in a silent burst of golden light, leaving behind a lingering scent of ozone.
Azrael's head tilted slightly, as if tasting the word. "Azrael," he repeated, the sound unfamiliar on his tongue.
Wonder Woman then murmured, "You have performed a miracle.. Azrael?" A statement, not a question.
Azrael looked at her, then back at Dr. Watson, who was still trembling. "The threads were still intact. Undoing was... simple. To learn the value of their choice, their struggle." His voice was softer now, less demanding, more reflective. "You permit imperfection. You fight the darkness, yet allow its architects to persist. This is... confusing."
Superman landed beside Batman, his expression thoughtful. "It's the path to a better future, Azrael. One earned, not given. Humanity grows stronger by confronting its own darkness, not by having it erased."
Constantine added, "Look, mate, it ain't tidy. Never is. But these lot," he gestured broadly at Luthor and Waller, "they've done some truly nasty bits. And yeah, they'll probably wriggle out of some of it. But sometimes, the biggest punishment is living with what you've done, knowing you failed, and still having to face the world you tried to break. Or, for the rest of us, having to build a better one despite them. That's the human way. Messy, but ours."
Azrael's blue eyes flickered between the Justice League members, processing their varied explanations – the principled stand, the philosophical depth, the gritty realism. He seemed to be cataloging their responses, forming a complex internal map of this new concept: imperfect justice born from the crucible of free will.
He slowly extended a hand, not toward anyone, but as if testing the air, sensing the myriad choices and consequences swirling around him. "This 'choice'... this 'struggle'... I wish to experience it." He paused, his gaze settling on Superman.
Superman stepped forward, his expression kind but firm. "Azrael, your power is beyond anything we've encountered. We can't allow you to simply roam free, not until we understand you, and you understand the intricate balance of this world. While we work to figure things out, we'd like to offer you a place to stay. A place where we can begin this 'experience,' as you called it, and where we can ensure everyone's safety. Will you come with us?"
"You wish to control me?" Azrael's voice suddenly sharpened, losing its previous softness. A deep, resonant hum vibrated through the air, and hairline cracks began to spiderweb across the reinforced walls of the Cadmus lab, the universe itself seemingly responding to his fundamental question. His baby-blue eyes, though not yet flaring with cosmic patterns, held an intense, unyielding light.
Superman quickly raised a hand, his posture open and reassuring. "No, Azrael. Not to control. To guide you, help you to learn. To offer a safe space for your understanding to grow. We want you to choose to be with us, to learn this balance, for your sake and for the world's."
Batman stepped forward, his eyes narrowed, always assessing the shifting dynamics. "Guide your understanding, yes. But you will abide by the laws of this world. Your power is immense, Azrael. Your ability to 'undo' cannot be used against the choices of others, even choices we deem wrong, unless they actively threaten innocent life. Our offer is for partnership in understanding, not imprisonment."
Azrael turned his head, looking directly at Batman, his latent rage settling, the cracks in the wall ceasing their expansion. "To protect the innocent. This is a choice you make. I perceive its necessity."
"Good," Batman stated simply, a hint of something unreadable in his tone. "Then we have a starting point."
Azrael's gaze lingered on Batman, then swept across the faces of the assembled Justice League: Superman's unwavering hope, Wonder Woman's empathetic strength, Flash's restless energy, Cyborg's analytical calm, and Supergirl's youthful concern. He processed their words, their intentions, the complex tapestry of choices and consequences they represented. The concept of 'guidance' rather than 'control' was a delicate distinction, one he was only beginning to grasp, but their sincerity resonated within him.
He looked around the shattered Cadmus lab, at the still-trembling Dr. Watson, at the securely restrained Luthor and Waller. He had observed, he had acted, and he had even undone. Now, a new path was being offered, one where his immense power might serve a purpose beyond simple, absolute judgment.
After a long moment, filled with the League's silent anticipation, Azrael gave a single, almost imperceptible nod. His voice, now returning to its previous, profound clarity, filled the lab. "I accept. I will come with you."
The tension that had gripped the League visibly eased. Superman offered a small, relieved smile. Batman's stoic expression remained, but a subtle shift in his posture suggested a measure of approval.
"Good," Superman said, his voice gentle. "We'll take you to a place where you can begin to understand this world safely. It will be... different from what you've known."
"This is already different," Azrael replied, his baby-blue eyes scanning the chaotic scene, now with an added layer of contemplative wonder. "These... emotions."
Constantine, still leaning against a shattered console, pushed himself upright. "Well, that's a turn-up for the books. Guess I'll have to warn the lads at the House of Mystery. Again. They're going to love this." He muttered the last part, taking another drag from his cigarette, a wry smirk on his face.
As Cyborg and Flash finished securing the Cadmus facility and its personnel, the Justice League prepared to depart. Dr. Watson was still in shock, now being gently escorted by Supergirl towards a medical bay within the facility that the League had quickly designated safe.
Luthor and Waller, their faces a mixture of fury and stunned disbelief, were led away by Cyborg, their protestations muffled by their restraints.
Batman moved towards the Javelin-7, his comms already active. "Martian Manhunter, prepare for immediate departure. Coordinate with satellite surveillance to ensure no unexpected visitors from... elsewhere... follow us. Flash, confirm all perimeter defenses are deactivated and the site is sealed until further notice."
The gravity of their decision hung in the air. They weren't just leaving a battleground; they were bringing a being of unimaginable power and alien understanding into their world, their home. Azrael floated silently beside Superman, his pale skin contrasting sharply with the bright colors of the heroes. His baby-blue eyes, though seemingly innocent, now registered the subtle currents of concern, hope, and determination radiating from each member of the League. For the first time, the concept of "emotions" was not just a theoretical perception, but a tangible, overwhelming reality.