AN: Words. 2.8k. Late but Big chapter.
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The Lazarus Pit hissed louder as Luna's body sank beneath the surface. The water shimmered, glowing with eerie light, casting shifting shadows across the stone chamber. Steam rose like smoke from a volcano. It stank of metal and rot, like old blood and burning air.
John knelt at the edge, fists clenched, eyes locked on the spot where she disappeared. The surface bubbled. Then it stilled. Silence returned.
Talia stepped closer, her voice calm.
"It takes time. Sometimes seconds. Sometimes minutes. It depends on the strength of the soul and the body."
John didn't move. His eyes never left the Pit.
The water rippled.
Then it exploded.
A figure shot upward from the Lazarus Pit like a missile, soaked in glowing liquid, arms outstretched, mouth open in a raw scream.
Luna.
Her eyes burned green, wild and unfocused. Her hair whipped in every direction as she landed hard on the stone floor, crouched like a cornered animal. Her fingers dug into the stone. Her breath came in fast, broken gasps.
John stood quickly.
"Luna!"
She lunged.
Faster than he remembered. Stronger. Her hands slammed into his chest, but it was useless against his power. He just stood there. She spun away and staggered backward, shaking. Her eyes locked on him, still burning green in the darkness.
He took a step closer.
She hissed and was about to jump forward when Talia shot her with a sleeping dart. Luna hit the floor with a sickening thud, almost instantly.
John ran to her and lifted her head, her body limp in his arms. The glowing green water poured from her hair and dripped onto the stone floor. Her eyes were closed, her breathing soft.
He looked up at Talia.
"What did you do?"
"I sedated her. Don't worry, she'll wake up soon enough. Take her and follow me."
John took Luna's unconscious body in his arms and followed Talia out of the pit. They walked inside the main mansion. Talia opened the door of a room. Inside was a bed with an antique wooden frame. A small table sat to one side with a glass of water. The windows were covered by thick curtains. But the room was well lit.
John laid her on the bed. He was happy to see that she came back to life.
He pulled a chair next to her and waited.
Talia brought food and drinks. John refused to eat until Luna woke up.
He was getting impatient. What was taking so long?
"You must eat," Talia said. "And rest. It could take some time."
"I don't require food. Or rest."
"It's not a requirement. It's a pleasure."
John ignored her.
Talia sighed. She looked at Luna, lying on the bed.
"You're in love with her."
"Love?" John thought for a moment as he watched Luna's face. Was it that kind of love? Or something else? He didn't know. But he felt something. Something strong. Something that he'd never experienced before. Something he couldn't control. "Doesn't matter."
Talia watched him for a moment longer, then said, "Get out of the room. I'll change her clothes and clean her up."
John reluctantly left the room, closing the door behind him. He stood outside the room, pacing back and forth. He didn't understand why he felt this way. He felt anxious. Restless. He wanted to be with her. He needed to be near her. It was like he couldn't breathe if he wasn't close to her.
He didn't understand why he felt these things. But he knew it was real. And it scared him.
After what felt like hours, Talia opened the door. John rushed inside.
An hour passed before Luna stirred.
Her eyes opened slowly. No green light. Just gray and dazed. She looked around, confused.
John leaned in, relief flooding his face.
"Luna. You're awake."
She blinked. Then looked at him.
"Who are you?"
The words hit him harder than any blade ever could.
"It's me. John."
She pulled away slightly. Her eyes searched his face, but nothing sparked.
"Where am I?" she whispered.
John swallowed hard.
Talia stood nearby, arms crossed, watching with quiet interest.
"You got into an accident, but you are safe now," John said with a warm smile. He couldn't tell her that she was shot.
She glanced around the room again, as if searching for something.
"Where are we?" she asked again.
"She lost her memories. The cost of using the pit. I'm sorry, but this is permanent," Talia said calmly.
John sat back in the chair, letting out a slow breath. The pain was sharp, but it didn't show on his face. He nodded once, more to himself than anyone else.
"That's alright," he said softly. "It's better this way."
Luna looked at him, uncertain, her body tense under the blanket. She didn't know why, but something about his presence didn't scare her. It confused her, sure, but there was no fear. Only a strange, quiet comfort.
"You're safe here," John said. "No one's going to hurt you. You can rest. Eat. Heal."
She hesitated, then slowly nodded.
Talia stepped closer and placed a glass of water on the bedside table. "Drink. Your body's still adjusting. You'll feel strange for a while."
Luna reached for the glass and took a slow sip. Her hands trembled, but she held it together. She glanced at John again.
"You saved me?"
He didn't smile. Just met her eyes with that calm, steady gaze.
"No. She did," He pointed at Talia.
"Thank you," Luna said, looking at Talia before her gaze drifted to the window. "What happened before? I feel… empty."
John looked away for a moment. The memories rushed back. The mine. The screams. The whip cracks. The blood on her face. The bullet. The cold weight of her in his arms. But he didn't say any of it. Not a word.
"As I said, you got into an accident," he said finally. "It's over now. You don't have to remember it. Just know that you're safe."
Luna nodded slowly, then leaned back against the pillows. She closed her eyes. Her breathing steadied. There were too many questions in her mind. Where did she come from? Does she have a family? What kind of relationship do they have with her? Why was her heart beating faster seeing that man smile? It was as if he was smiling for the first time in his life.
Talia stood silently for a while, then walked out, giving them space.
John remained at her side.
She didn't remember the pain. The suffering. The broken fingers or the hunger, or the fear. She didn't remember the people they buried or the fire pits or the laughter of guards. She didn't remember the fight. But that was fine.
She was alive.
And that was enough.
Luna soon fell asleep. She was too tired.
John sat in silence, watching her sleep. His mind drifted to Kahndaq. He thought about the camps still full of broken souls. The guards were still walking freely, shouting orders and shooting anyone who hesitated. He thought about the one who'd shot her. About the others who stood by and laughed. Although they were all dead, what about those remaining bastards? What about the one at the top?
It was time to end it all...
No more unnecessary death or pain...
He stood and walked out of the room. Talia stood waiting in the hall, arms folded.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"Kahndaq."
She raised an eyebrow. "Revenge?"
"Doesn't matter... Revenge... Justice... Who cares? I'm just gonna kill those bastards," John replied coldly.
"You'll burn the whole place to the ground."
John didn't argue.
Talia smirked. "Just be sure you leave enough standing to rebuild."
"Look after Luna. After her mind stabilizes, make a new ID for her and send her to Metropolis. Help her start a new life. That's all," John said before flying into the sky like a bullet.
...
[Khandaq]
That night, the sky above Kahndaq split open.
The clouds burned gold as a streak of lightning slammed into the heart of the capital. Windows shattered. Towers cracked. The streets lit up like the sun had fallen. People screamed. Alarms rang. But no one could stop what came next.
John Mason hit the ground outside the palace like a meteor. The shockwave blasted the front gates apart. Stone crumbled. Guards flew through the air like broken dolls. Dust and fire spiraled into the sky.
He didn't slow down.
Two guards rushed him with rifles raised. Before they could speak, he crushed their skulls together with a single clap of his hands. Their helmets cracked. Blood sprayed. Their bodies dropped without a sound.
A third guard fired point-blank.
John didn't flinch. The bullet hit his chest and flattened. He walked through it, grabbed the man by the throat, and slammed him into the wall hard enough to shatter both.
Inside the palace, panic spread like fire. Men shouted. Lights flickered. The intercom screamed for all units to converge.
They tried.
John ripped through the front line like wind through paper. Every guard who aimed a weapon died before pulling the trigger. Some exploded in lightning. Others went flying, bones snapping on impact. One begged. John didn't even look at him. Just snapped his neck mid-step and moved on.
The halls were red with light and sirens.
He burned through the east wing.
A squad of ten waited in formation, shields raised, electrified batons charged. They didn't last ten seconds. He blitzed them from the side, tore one shield in half, hurled it like a blade into another man's chest, then sent three flying with a shockwave stomp that cracked the marble.
He kept walking.
More came. Rockets. Turrets. Sonic disruptors. None of it worked.
He flew through one hallway, dragging two guards by the legs, letting their heads bounce off walls until they went limp. He hurled them into a security door, blasting it open.
Inside, Asim Muhunnad waited.
Robes of gold. Body armor beneath. His eyes were wide.
He reached for a console. John appeared behind him, grabbed his wrist, and crushed it. Bones snapped like twigs.
Asim screamed.
John shoved him through the reinforced glass wall of his command room. They crashed into the courtyard below.
Blood streamed from Asim's mouth as he crawled backward, coughing, sobbing.
"Wait! I can explain! I didn't..."
John grabbed his throat and flew high up in the sky. He stopped when they were at the highest point, looking down at the city.
"No explanation will save your life. You have caused too much suffering in this world. Now you will pay," John said coldly, looking down at the struggling Asim.
The man's face turned red as he struggled to breathe, his hands gripping John's wrists with all his strength, trying to pry them off to no avail.
"Look down. I'm going to let go. Breathe as much air as you want. This will be your last breath," John said, tightening his grip on Asim's neck.
"Wait! Please! Mercy!" Asim choked out desperately.
But mercy was never an option.
John simply let him go.
"ARGGGGGGG!!" Asmin screamed at the top of his lungs as he fell, his body tumbling in the air. Forget breathing, he shat his pants out of fear.
Well, the scream lasted for a few seconds, followed by...
SPLAT!
He crashed onto the ground, right in front of the palace gate, painting the ground red. His body was a splattered meat and blood.
Next, John flew down. He walked through the central courtyard, slaughtering the last of the resistance. He grabbed a fleeing soldier and hurled him into a transport truck. The impact lit the engine on fire. It exploded seconds later, sending shockwaves through the plaza.
Another squad tried to escape through the north gate. He flew past them, stopped in midair, and raised both hands. Lightning erupted from the sky, dozens of bolts falling like a divine storm. The ground cracked. The men screamed. Then they were gone.
Inside the armory, soldiers hid behind blast doors. John ripped the door from its hinges, stepped in, and closed the door behind him.
Ten seconds later, it opened again. Only John stepped out. Blood soaked the floor behind him.
He left no one standing.
No heirs. No commanders. No architects of cruelty. He found the ones who ran the mines. The ones who ordered the executions. The ones who laughed at broken bodies and made bets on suffering.
He made sure they died last.
At dawn, the fires still burned.
The black tower of Asim's reign cracked down the middle and fell in slow motion, collapsing into the earth like a dying titan.
John stood on the rubble, his eyes glowing faint gold in the smoke. Below, survivors crawled from bunkers and alleys, looking up at him in stunned silence.
Some wept.
Some just watched, unsure what they were seeing.
Freedom? A god?
Their savior from the old legends...
Within a few minutes, John was surrounded by the survivors and the city people who were just barely surviving.
Everyone fell to their knees and lowered their head.
John looked at them silently for a moment before speaking in a loud voice, "Today is the end of slavery in Kahndaq! There will be no more prisons! No more whips or chains! No more guards or masters! Any man, woman, or child found guilty of enslaving another will face judgment!"
The crowd looked up at him, their faces full of hope. There was not a single hint of fear.
"You are free now," he continued, "but it won't be easy. The path ahead will be hard. You must work together. Build a nation where everyone is treated with dignity and respect. You have suffered. You have endured. Now it's time to live. Live well. Live free."
With that, he flew into the sky, leaving the people to their new lives.
...
...
Metropolis. 2 Days Later.
Location: President's Office. White House, East Wing, Situation Room.
The walls were lined with monitors. Every screen showed a different angle of destruction. Craters. Collapsed towers. Streets scorched with lightning. Drones buzzed through the wreckage, scanning heat signatures, picking through corpses.
Amanda Waller stood at the center of the room, arms folded, and she looked cold as usual. She wore her usual dark blue blazer, her ID badge clipped to her collar, but her expression made it clear she was the one running this room, not the President.
On the main screen, a satellite image zoomed in on the ruins of Kahndaq. The palace had become a crater. The black tower no longer existed. Dozens of heat signatures moved through the rubble... survivors, bowing before a man in a black suit.
The camera then froze on a single image: a gold-streaked blur in the sky. A man, mid-flight. Eyes glowing faintly. The lightning bolt on his chest was burning with power.
The room was dead silent.
"Play it again," Waller said.
A tech officer rewound the feed and hit play. The satellite footage replayed the fall of Asim Muhunnad. His body plummeted. Slammed into the stone. Blood splattered. The impact registered as a seismic event.
Someone in the back winced.
President Matthew Reed leaned forward, his palms flat on the desk. He looked pale.
"This is the man who took out an entire regime in one night?"
"Yes, sir," Waller said.
"He has powers like Superman?"
"We have analyzed his power with the limited information we currently possess. His strength level might be similar to Superman's. And according to our analyst, this one's magic-based. That puts him in a different threat class entirely."
Reed looked at the screen again. "Is he on our side?"
Waller didn't answer immediately. Her silence was louder than any answer.
"Do we know his name?"
"No legal identity. No match in any registry. Origin unknown. Prior affiliations unknown. We're still piecing it together."
"And Kahndaq?"
"Gone. He didn't just overthrow the regime. He eradicated it. Wiped out their command structure, military forces, and black sites. Their entire intelligence network. All in less than an hour."
Another screen showed body bags being loaded into transport carriers. Hundreds. No survivors from the inner circle.
"He left civilians alive," Waller added. "Freed the prisoners. Gave a speech. Then left. He did what the Justice League and we couldn't for years. The people there now think of him as their God. That's the only reason we're not treating him as a global terrorist. But power like that, if left unchecked, could become a problem in the future."
"So what do you suggest?" The president asked.
"We must find his weakness and create a prison to hold him. Superman owes me a favor," Waller said as she looked at John's image. "Let him find out his weakness, and then we'll capture him. After that, we can interrogate him."
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