[2 years later]
[Fawcett City – Cafe] [11 AM – Year: 2025]
The rain poured hard outside. The streets were wet, the sky was gray, and people moved fast under umbrellas, trying to stay dry.
Inside a small corner cafe, it was quiet and warm. Soft music played from a speaker near the ceiling. The smell of coffee and bread filled the air. A few customers sat scattered across the room. Most were looking at their phones or laptops. No one paid attention to the tall man sitting near the window.
John sipped his black coffee, his eyes on the rain outside. He wore a brown hoodie, some faded jeans, and boots still damp from the walk-in. His hair was a bit longer now, and he had a short beard. Nothing about him stood out. He looked like any other working-class guy on a rainy day.
And that was the point.
For the past two years, John had done nothing that could draw attention. He worked odd jobs. Moved from place to place. Construction, warehouse, cleaning, and even food delivery. He never stayed in one spot too long. He lived in a small, one-room apartment on the east side of Fawcett City.
He hadn't used his powers since the day he left Kahndaq.
Not once.
Not when his ribs cracked during a fall on a job site. Not when he got jumped by two guys in an alley for his wallet. (He simply stabbed them and left them to bleed out in the alley.) Not even when he had an accident that almost killed him.
He stayed human.
The reason?
It was simple because there was someone in the Justice Society who could trace his existence, and that wasn't an option. Not to mention, there was Batman, who always had a way to find other superhumans' weaknesses.
However, he learned martial arts and spent a few months learning his way around guns and other weapons. He was like a multitasking pro.
As for Luna, she started a new life in Metropolis, thanks to Talia. Last time he checked on her from a distance, she had already skipped a few grades and was now going to college.
John stirred his coffee slowly, still watching the rain. In his coat pocket was a small notebook. He carried it everywhere. Inside were pages full of notes and names. It looked like a superhero fanatic's record book.
Superman. Batman. Wonder Woman. Aquaman. Flash. Green Lantern. Hawkman. Atom Smasher. Stargirl. Cyclone. Dr. Fate and a couple of other heroes.
He also made a list of active villains like Joker, Harley, Penguin, Riddler, Calendar Man, Dr. Freeze, and a few others.
He had been watching quietly. For months, he studied newspapers, watched talk shows on Superheroes, overheard street talk, and read every public record he could find.
The Justice League existed alongside the Justice Society. But they didn't get along. Too many leaders. Too many secrets. And their different ways of doing their job. It was clear that there was tension among them. Public opinions about them are mixed. Some preferred the League while others preferred the Society.
Then there was Amanda Waller and her Suicide Squad. That was a darker group. Criminals forced to do missions for the government. Dirty work. High risk. Zero mercy. John had watched them operate from a distance once. He saw them bring down a warehouse full of meta-humans during one of his late-night food delivery jobs. He saw Polka-Dot Man slaughtering a group while laughing like a maniac. Luckily, he drove fast from that area.
What surprised John most was when he found out that Billy Batson was just a normal kid here. So were his foster siblings. There was no Shazam. No wizard. No magical word turning a boy into a god.
It made no sense.
Some of the timelines were right. Others were wrong. This reality was broken. Like pieces from different puzzles shoved into one box.
A clusterfuck.
And the scariest part?
He had no idea what was coming next.
He took out a pen and flipped open his notebook. On the newest page were a few questions he had written:
"Why am I here?"
"What's next?"
"Too many heroes and villains. So, is there a reason for me to step in?"
He stared at them for a long time.
He sipped his coffee again, then...
Booom!
The boom shook the windows.
People in the cafe screamed and dropped to the floor. A few ran for the exit. Cups fell off tables. Plates crashed onto the floor. The lights flickered.
John stayed seated.
He looked up slowly and turned toward the sound. The explosion had come from the street just across the block. Smoke rose into the gray sky. He set his coffee down and stood up, pulling his hoodie tighter.
Outside, chaos had taken over.
A black armored van had crashed into a bank. The front was smashed in. A group of armed men in dark gear stormed out. They wore masks and carried rifles. One of them had a rocket launcher on his back. People screamed and ran. Cars screeched away.
The gunmen opened fire on the building. Glass shattered. Alarms blared. The gunmen shouted orders to each other.
John stood on the sidewalk, still watching. He clenched his fists. But then took a deep breath, releasing the clench. This wasn't his problem. The heroes will deal with them soon. No reason to get caught up in this mess.
Then he saw her.
A streak of red and gold shot down from the sky and slammed into the street, sending two gunmen flying. One hit a light pole and didn't move. The other bounced off a car and rolled onto the pavement.
John recognized her.
Wonder Woman.
The rest turned, shouting.
"OPEN FIRE!"
Bullets flew.
The woman didn't flinch. She raised her shield and deflected every shot. Sparks flew as bullets bounced off the metal. She moved fast, a blur of skill and force. Her lasso whipped out and yanked one man into the air. He screamed as he slammed into the ground, his gun sliding away.
The leader of the group shouted and raised his rocket launcher.
"Take her out!"
He fired.
The rocket flew straight toward her.
She stepped forward and swung her shield.
The explosion was deafening. Fire and smoke burst out in a wave, sending debris flying.
When it cleared, she was still standing.
Not a scratch.
The woman stepped out of the smoke, calm and steady. She cracked her neck one before she threw her sword.
It spun through the air and sliced through the launcher, cutting it clean in half. The leader stumbled back, stunned.
She caught her sword as it returned to her hand.
She moved again. Fast. Too fast.
She dodged a swing from a steel pipe and broke the attacker's nose with her elbow. She spun, kicked another one into a parked car, and used her lasso to slam two more together.
Within seconds, it was over.
All the gunmen were down. Some groaning. Some unconscious. None dead.
She stood in the middle of the wreckage, chest rising and falling. Her shield hung by her side. Her sword rested against her shoulder. The rain hit her armor and slid off like water over stone.
Police sirens echoed in the distance.
People peeked out from behind cars and buildings. Phones came out. Cameras flashed.
Wonder Woman turned to look at them.
Then she looked up.
Her eyes locked on John.
For a moment, they just stared at each other.
She tilted her head slightly, as if she sensed something. She glanced down at her lasso and noticed the faint glow and heard the faint humming sound. It was as if it was reacting to something. And by the time she looked up.
John just disappeared into the crowd.
Diana narrowed her eyes.
Something wasn't right.
She could feel it.
John didn't look back after slipping into the crowd. He kept his hood up, head down, and moved fast. The streets were still full of panic and sirens, but he stayed quiet, weaving between people until the noise faded behind him.
He took a side alley, passed a locked gate, and ducked into a back entrance of a small building. On the door was a faded sticker that read:
"Tony's Pizza – Hot. Fast. Honest-ish."
Inside, the kitchen smelled like garlic, cheese, and grease. The floor was slippery, the walls were stained, and the radio near the oven blasted rock music from twenty years ago.
Tony stood behind the counter, yelling into a headset, sweat pouring down his bald head. He waved when he saw John.
"You're late!" Tony shouted.
John checked the wall clock. It was 12:07.
"Seven minutes," John said, hanging his coat on a hook.
"Seven minutes is late when there's a lunch rush! Suit up! You got a big one."
John grabbed the delivery bag and the keys to the red scooter parked outside. He pulled on a waterproof jacket and his helmet.
Tony held out a ticket.
"Three extra-large meat lovers, one veggie, two garlic breads, and a two-liter soda. Go to this address."
John looked at it.
321 Locke Street. Apartment 4B.
"Cash on delivery?"
"Nope. Paid online. Big tip too. Must be someone's birthday or bribe-your-neighbors day."
John nodded, took the pizza bag, and headed out.
The rain hadn't let up, but he didn't mind. He liked the cold. The scooter coughed a few times before starting. He zipped into the wet streets, weaving through traffic, splashing water as he went.
Fifteen minutes later, he reached Locke Street. It was a quiet block. Older buildings, lots of graffiti, cracked sidewalks. He parked the scooter near the entrance, grabbed the pizzas, and headed up the stairs.
The building smelled like wet carpet and cigarette smoke.
He knocked on 4B.
No answer.
He knocked again, a bit louder.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three gunshots came from inside...
John froze. The pizzas slipped a little in his grip. 'Why the fuck am I getting into trouble lately?'
From inside the apartment, he heard a woman's voice. High-pitched and playful.
"Puddin', you shouldn't have lied about your past."
He knew that voice. There's only one lunatic who used that word.
Harley Quinn.
'Fuck!'
He heard something crash. Maybe a chair. Maybe a person hitting a wall. Then came a whimper. A man begging.
"Please, Harley, I didn't mean to..." Joker's voice. "Wait a second. Not the kneecap. Not my..."
Bang!
Another gunshot, followed by a muffled scream.
"FUCK!"
John stepped back, his eyes locked on the door. The pizza bag hung in his hand like dead weight. He looked left. Empty hallway. Looked right. Same. He set the pizza bag down quietly. Then he was about to get out of there.
The door opened with a bang.
A pale hand with black nail polish pulled it wider.
Then she stepped into view.
Harley Quinn.
Hair in two messy pigtails, half pink, half blue. Bright red lipstick. Blue eyeshadow. A little star tattoo on her left cheek. She wore a red hoodie, short shorts over fishnet stockings, and boots covered in glitter and blood. She smiled like a wolf who had just finished dinner.
Her smile faded when she saw John.
She tilted her head. "You're not my usual pizza guy."
John said nothing.
"Where's Tony's usual meatball with arms?" she asked.
John kept his eyes on her hands. The gun was in her left hand, pointed at the floor.
"Busy," he said.
"Aw. That's too bad. You're kinda cute." She looked him up and down.
But John's eyes were on the guy in a purple suit who crawled out of the door and tried to crawl away with bloody knees.
Bang! Harley shot his butt without looking back.
"Ooh," John's eye twitched. "That's gonna hurt."
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