The morning in Mount Justice was unusually quiet.
The usual racket from the younger heroes hadn't started yet — no Wally arguing over breakfast, no Conner grumbling at the noise. Just the low, steady hum of the Cave's systems and the faint idle whir of the main console.
Perfect.
I strolled in, still in my loose black shirt and the same comfortable pants I usually wore around the base. A steaming mug of coffee sat in my hand, and I hummed a tune — a bad habit I'd picked up from watching too many late-night anime openings.
"Another day in paradise," I muttered, lowering myself into the big chair in front of the Cave's main console. I set my mug down, stretched my arms until my shoulders popped, and cracked my neck. "Alright… let's see what happens next in last night's cliffhanger."
A few keystrokes later, the secure login screen of one of the most protected systems on Earth vanished, replaced by my favorite anime streaming site. I grinned. Say what you want about my skills — but sometimes the simplest victories were the sweetest.
"Let's see… last episode, the guy finally confessed to the fox-spirit girl, then his rival showed up… ah, here we go. Episode 17: Tears Beneath the Cherry Blossoms."
I leaned back, crossed one leg over the other, and hit "Play."
The Cave's enormous monitor came alive with bright colors and swelling theme music — about as far removed from the sleek steel-and-stone look of the place as you could get. I took a slow sip of my coffee, soaking in the peace. For a few minutes, it felt like I wasn't a weapon under scrutiny by the most powerful heroes on Earth.
Then the console chirped.
It wasn't the normal notification sound. It was lower, more mechanical, almost like something charging.
"...Huh?" I frowned at the screen. The video had frozen, and in the corner, a new icon pulsed: a black bat emblem inside a yellow warning triangle.
Oh no.
A crackling bolt of electricity shot from the edge of the console straight into the chair.
"GYAAAAH!"
Every muscle in my body seized as the jolt ran through me. My coffee mug toppled over, splattering lukewarm liquid on the floor. I half-leapt, half-fell out of the chair, hair standing on end and hands tingling like I'd stuck them in a socket.
"OW! What the—?!" I barked, shaking out my fingers. "Seriously?! Who the hell rigs a computer to tase you?!"
A voice, low and unamused, cut through the empty room.
"I warned you before about using League property for… personal entertainment."
I turned fast, already knowing what — or rather, who — I'd see. Sure enough, a tall, broad-shouldered silhouette emerged from the shadows near the hangar corridor, cape shifting slightly as it caught the light.
"...You zapped me," I said flatly. "You actually set a trap in your own system to electrocute me."
Batman's face — what you could see of it under that cowl — didn't twitch. The man could probably face a nuke without flinching.
"Consider it disciplinary action," he said. His voice was as calm as ever, which somehow made it worse. "You misused the Cave's main terminal. That system connects directly to the Watchtower's data hub. I don't tolerate breaches of protocol."
I rubbed my forearm, glaring at the console. "You call it a breach. I call it taking a break. You people should really learn to appreciate downtime."
"You can take all the downtime you want," Batman replied evenly. "Just not on my hardware."
I snorted. "You know, for a guy dressed like a bat, you really don't have much sense of humor."
He stepped closer, cape whispering against the floor. "This isn't about humor. It's about discipline. You'll need both if you're going to keep working with us."
I crossed my arms, unimpressed. "I'm still technically on trial here. Not exactly what I'd call a team player yet."
"That's why you're coming with me," he said, tone like a closing door. "The League has reached its decision. We'll present it to you now."
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The walk from the lounge to the Mission Room felt longer than it should have.Maybe it was the way Batman led, silent and immovable, cape trailing like the shadow of a guillotine. Or maybe it was the weight in the air—like the cave itself knew judgment was waiting for me.
My boots clicked against the polished stone. The doors slid open, and there they were.
The Justice League. Half of them.
Superman stood tall, arms folded like the embodiment of disapproval. Wonder Woman was regal and rigid, hands on her hips, her gaze sharper than any blade. Green Lantern leaned against the side of the wall, looking at me like I was a problem in need of solving. Dinah had her arms crossed, expression unreadable, though her eyes missed nothing. Flash rocked back and forth on his heels, the tension of the room clearly killing his usual chatter. J'onn hovered with calm intensity, those crimson eyes of his steady on me. And then there was Captain Marvel—Billy, though only a handful of us knew it—trying his best to stand tall and serious, though the flicker of nervous energy gave him away.
The Mission Room felt like a courtroom, the holographic globe above us casting cold light over everything. I was the defendant. They were the jury. And the executioner was already in the room.
I stepped into the center, rolling my shoulders once. No smirk, no sarcasm—not this time. I stood loose, hands at my sides, and met their eyes one by one.
"Guess this is it," I said. My voice didn't waver. "You've made up your minds?"
Batman spoke first, his voice cutting through the air like a blade."We have."
I nodded once. "Then let's hear it. Saves us all some time."
Captain Marvel cleared his throat, raising a hand almost sheepishly. "So… um, I kinda came up with a third option." His eyes flicked around the room, then back to me. "It's not… letting you loose. But it's not locking you away either."
I arched a brow. "Go on."
Billy's voice steadied. "You've shown restraint before. Sportsmaster's alive because of you—barely, but alive. So instead of making killing your first move, this option… sanctions you to go after the worst of the worst. The ones who will never stop until someone stops them. You take them down hard. Disable them so they can't ever get back up."
Batman's voice slid in like steel over stone. "You'll work under League oversight. Targets will be selected. Missions will be clear. And if you cross the line, even once, this ends. Permanently."
I let the silence sit for a moment. The League watched me, some with suspicion, some with the faintest glimmer of hope. Then I tilted my head, considered the offer, and said:
"Okay."
The word echoed, simple but absolute. I let it hang in the air before adding, more serious:
"But there's one condition. I won't hesitate on warlords, slavers, or terrorists—you point me at them, and they're done. But there's one kind of enemy I will never leave breathing. Ever."
My voice dropped. "Telepaths. Mimics. Anyone who crawls inside your head or steals your skills to turn you against your own people. I don't give them mercy. Just like Ivo and his tin can.
A ripple of silence passed over the room. J'onn's eyes lingered on me for a long second—steady, unreadable—but he didn't argue.
Batman simply inclined his head a fraction. "Noted. We'll factor that into target selection."
"Fine by me," I said, shrugging once. "I'm not here to be a mascot. Just point me at the right monsters."
Dinah's lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile. Flash opened his mouth—probably to crack a joke—but one sharp glance from Batman shut him down immediately. Billy looked like he'd just unclenched a held breath.
Batman pressed a control on the holographic interface. Above the holographic globe, glowing dossiers flickered to life.
I straightened and watched the rotating profiles.
A severe-looking man in a tailored suit, a government seal behind him. "Senator Raul Desantos. Corrupt. Orchestrates mass land seizures and funnels relief funds to his private militias. Indirectly responsible for over three thousand civilian deaths."
Next, a gaunt, bearded man photographed with a heavy machine gun. "Hakeem Odoro. Warlord. Commands a private army across three unstable border regions. Uses famine as a weapon."
The third: a shadowed figure with a laptop under a fanatic symbol. "Kassim al-Rami. Terrorist leader. Mastermind of the Metroplex bombing two years ago."
And finally, a grinning man in a white suit flanked by chains and guards. "Grigor Vostek. Slave-trade magnate. Runs human-trafficking rings across five countries."
The cold glow of the holograms painted the room in sharp blue light.
Batman's voice was matter-of-fact. "These four are your initial priority. Each one is a key node in ongoing atrocities. All have evaded conventional law-enforcement. You'll take them down. We expect results."
I studied the faces a moment, then muttered, "Busy schedule. Nice of you to line them up for me."
Batman's mouth thinned. "Each has made a career out of thriving in chaos. Capture attempts have failed. You'll work through the list one by one. Report directly to the League after each mission."
I gave a casual two-finger salute. "Roger that. Less paperwork if I don't have to sit through the meetings."
Before anyone could retort, Diana stepped forward. "You won't be going alone."
She turned slightly and gestured toward the hall. A figure strode in from the side entrance — tall, lithe, dressed in a crimson-and-gold battle harness with subtle Amazonian designs. Her presence carried Diana's gravitas but honed to a sharper edge.
"Artemis of Bana-Mighdall," Diana said. "She'll accompany you as observer and ally. She answers to me and the League. Her task is to ensure you stay on the line we've drawn."
The warrior inclined her head, her green eyes fixed on me, cool but steady. "I'm not here to be your keeper," she said. Her voice was low, resonant. "I'm here to see the mission done right."
I studied her for a heartbeat, then offered an easy half-smile. "Good. I don't like babysitters. But I do like working with professionals."
Her gaze didn't waver. "Then we'll have no problems."
Billy exhaled like a kid who'd been holding his breath. "So we're all agreed, then."
Hal muttered something about "half-measures," but Dinah's sharp glance cut him off.
Diana stepped closer until she stood right in front of me. She set both hands on my shoulders, steady, firm — almost like an older sister trying to drive a lesson home. Her blue eyes held mine without a hint of a smile. "You've been given a chance, Dante. Don't waste it."
I held her gaze for a moment, then let my mouth quirk into the ghost of a grin. "Serious words, Princess…" I said, then added with a perfectly straight face, "but — uh — do I still get paid?"