"Earth-49........"
"Earth-30...….."
"Earth-22......"
"Earth-15...."
"Earth-10….."
"Earth-3….."
"Earth-2…"
"Earth-1..."
"Earth-0.."
"Prime.."
"Prime Ear.."
"Prime Earth."
"PRIME EARTH"
The whispers spoke to him in the mind of Victor Von Doom, then flashes and images of that universe "Prime Earth".
A tall and muscular man in a blue and red suit… flying…
A man dressed in black and gray… with pointed ears…
A divine woman with a golden lasso and a shield… armed with a red, blue, and yellow suit…
A man with a ring… a green and white suit across his entire body…
A man in a red and yellow suit… running like lightning…
A tall gray being with red eyes illuminating the darkness… attacking the ones previously mentioned…
A yellow helmet shining in the cosmos…
A naked blue man… altering reality…
A giant blue and yellow being with… yellow eyes… destroying universes…
A being with a green cape and hood… white eyes and a white body… with unreachable power… staring directly at him…
This last image left the ruler of Latveria thinking; that being identical to him did not radiate his own Doom-like essence—strange for someone outside his own multiverse. The whispers also spoke confusing key names.
"Super…"
"Bat…"
"Wonder…"
"Dark…"
"Fate"
"Spectre"
The villain confirmed that there exists something beyond his own multiverse, something not even his own rival and enemy Reed Richards is capable of deciphering, with all his years of experience and knowledge of the multiverse. Doom can at least mock Mr. Fantastic once again, as he always does. Speaking of him, the leader of the Fantastic Four tried to contact him four times during these three months of isolation in his attempt to decipher the "Omniverse", trying to sabotage the castle's security system.
The elastic man always interfering in his plans, just like the day he met him at the university. On the other hand, his goddaughter Valeria Richards—ten missed calls from her coming from the communicator he gifted her when she was nine years old, two years ago—this time made the remaining hairs on Doom's body stand up, and he mentally apologized to his niece, murmuring, "This has to be done. Latveria is more essential than ever." Doom understands the girl's concern for him.
Speaking of concerns, his adoptive son Kristoff Vernard and Zora looked at him with too much curiosity during the lunches and dinners they shared together; the villain noticed that they wanted to decipher what he was planning. Fortunately, they did not know about his illness and did not bother him during shared moments or sneak around his laboratory; they know that he would get angry if they did.
On the other hand, the discovery of the Omniverse was only the beginning. To reach the universe "Prime Earth", Doom required a bridge, a crack to cross the omniversal void. Again, inspiration struck, rooted in his genius and fondness for challenge. It was just one word—SHIELD. That government agency possessed a fragment of the original Cosmic Cube, just a simple bluish crystal safeguarded inside Nick Fury's helicarrier. He knew the cube could warp reality based on the Beyonders' own science.
Unlike its progenitor, the crystal lacked the power to reshape universes, but its remaining energy could break open dimensional barriers, according to the whispers of the Beyonders—perfect for Doom's purpose. The ruler of Latveria liked the idea of outwitting Nick Fury once again, whose sanctimonious vigilance had long been a thorn in his side.
Because of this, he managed to obtain it, Victor von Doom now had the crystal. It took a week to take it and hack SHIELD's security—nothing out of this world for him. Doom, in his mind, smirked mockingly at how the Black man with the eyepatch would lose his temper when he noticed this precious thing was missing. Victor had sent a stealth Doombot to temporarily hack the helicarrier's security system while the agents, as useless as always according to Doom, failed to notice his moves.
Now the crystal is his.
///
Two more months passed; the villain continued with his pains within his being, but controlled. In his personal laboratory, Doom stood before a circular platform of his lab, its surface engraved with Latverian runes that glowed with eldritch fire. Two Doombots identical to his image, likeness, and will flanked him, their optical sensors glowing as they monitored the experiment.
Above the center of the platform floated a white and purple containment sphere, the transparent glass revealing the bluish crystal inside and projecting a light with prismatic reflections across the obsidian walls of the laboratory. The advanced technology—cables, conduits, and crystalline amplifiers—intertwined with arcane sigils, a testament to Doom's mastery of both science and magic, using Latverian spells, the remaining energy of the Beyonders that lived within his body, and pieces that formed part of his time platform.
It was time for the test.
"The hour has come". Doom murmured quietly with unbreakable conviction. "Go".
Doom signaled his duplicate B-78; the Doombot, without expressing any emotion, grabbed the floating sphere and activated it, its gauntlets manipulating the object while keeping the power button pressed. The sphere glowed as the crystal's energy channeled through the Latverian runes.
Suddenly, the air crackled in his laboratory; the capes of all three lifted, floating; a whitish light formed around B-78, and then a vortex swallowed it, making it disappear from the laboratory.
Doom only waited for answers from his creation. The minutes passed; each second the villain grew impatient for a prompt response. At last, he received a pulsed signal through his neural interface—the Doombot's confirmation, after 25 minutes of waiting, that it was now in that place called "Prime Earth." He assumed that because of the distance of this said universe—his own world designated as 616—this Prime Earth was near Earth-2, a distance considered too great and dangerous to cross for an ordinary mortal of Earth, but Doom was none of them. The mind of Victor surged with triumph, another silent mockery aimed at Reed Richards, that insufferable rival whose intellect could never equal such an achievement.
"Even while I am perishing, I surpass you." he thought, his lips curling beneath the mask, sinisterly.
///
Now, Victor Von Doom was seated upon his throne in the great hall of the Castle, reclining beneath the weight of his conquests on his shoulders, his armored, unyielding form set against the vaulted stone and flickering torchlight. His own image, immortalized in a massive portrait above the throne, watched his actions.
A week had passed in this world since he had sent his Doombot to his newly discovered realm, a triumph of his genius, bridging the void to that distant domain he had witnessed in visions fueled by the Beyonder. The illness still lingered in his veins, a shadow continuing to erode his being, the pain dulled to a mere whisper by his magical treatment.
Before his throne and himself, several transparent bluish holograms were projected, activating at his command. Streams of data were transmitted through the rift by his mechanical emissary; his neural link was fed by a torrent of information from that universe.
Doom summoned a cup of Latverian wine with a gesture, the vessel appearing in his gauntleted hand. He took a measured sip, savoring the rich harvest of his nation as he delved into the holograms. B-78 had surpassed expectations; it had infiltrated the digital fortresses with the subtlety of a shadow in that new world.
According to the doombot's memories, his duplicate had cybernetically violated something called Wayne Enterprises. That company had cyber security efficient enough to repel any attack from experienced hackers and cyber-viruses in its world, but it was ridiculously primitive compared to the countermeasures of his Doombots. It hacked the corporation's satellites to acquire more data about this world. It was currently directed by a billionaire named Bruce Wayne in cooperation with one Lucius Foxx. It held several corporate alliances with other CEOs, most notably Queen Industries, and had acquired Kord Industries, Gotham Gazette and Daily Planet as its property. Doom also accessed the files of such properties of Wayne Enterprises. The latter comprised various branches such as Wayne Technologies, FoxTech, the Thomas and Martha Wayne Foundation, and others. From there, it became the broadest network of that world, similar to Stark Industries.
LexCorp, another entity governed by a bald billionaire and villain named Lex Luthor, had ambitions reflecting the image of the ruler of Latveria, though lacking his sorcery and intelligence. Like Wayne Industries, it had only one satellite orbiting their Earth providing orbital scans. The Doombot hacked it as well to obtain knowledge of the criminal world of this universe, like Oscorp or Roxxon.
Lastly, B-78 hacked the main space station of that world known as the Watchtower, an orbital bastion for their so-called heroes, its name echoing the Sentinel Tower of his realm—a coincidence that amused Doom. The Doombot gathered all the information it needed about the heroes of that world.
That universe, Prime Earth as the compiled records call it, like the Beyonder's whispers, was a tapestry of chaos and wonder, so divergent from his own multiverse it intrigued even Doom.
Victor von Doom's eyes, through his metallic mask, drinking another sip of wine, gazed at the holographic projections of the cities of that world, sprawling across continents and nonexistent in his own, each a microcosm of human madness and heroism.
Gotham City, a shadowed labyrinth of gothic spires and perpetual rain, plagued by crime and vigilantes. A man dressed as a bat, highlighted in black and grey called Batman, stalking especially at night the drug traffickers and murderers of the city.
Metropolis, a shining utopia of towering skyscrapers and optimistic, futuristic architecture bathed in sunlight, protected by an alien called Superman.
Star City, Central City and Coast City, names evoking a sense of fragmented purpose, with Bludhaven, Keystone City, Gateway City and Fawcett City adding to the mosaic—coastal havens and industrial hives full of Metahumans.
Doom stared at the information through the holograms regarding these metahumans, a term for beings with enhanced abilities, similar to mutants, but without the social stigma of the X-Gene. They wield powers from speed to flight, from invulnerability to energy manipulation—a genetic lottery that could reinforce Latveria's armies if harnessed.
Images of heroes dominated the screen next, their profiles scrolling in holographic detail. Now Doom would know more about this Batman and Superman.
Superman, an alien refugee from a doomed planet called Krypton, landed on Earth as a baby, raised among humans but possessing otherworldly strength, heat vision and flight, similar to Sentry and Hyperion. His blue suit and red cape screamed naïve idealism, a protector embodying hope, very similar to Captain America. Doom knew the hero protected Metropolis. His secret identity was Clark Kent, journalist of the Daily Planet.
Batman, the bat without powers but with intellect and shadows, operating from the gutter of Gotham, driven by vengeance and violence, akin to the red devil of New York, reminiscent of Von Doom's own early days, though lacking his vision for rulership. The bat's identity was the very CEO of Wayne Enterprises, Bruce Wayne.
Wonder Woman, an Amazonian warrior princess forged by gods; her compelling truth, her bullet-deflecting bracelets, her divine heritage intrigued him, a mixture of myth and power. She wore an Amazonian armor or suit of blue, red, and yellow. Her civilian identity was Diana Prince, diplomat and ambassador of her birthplace Themyscira.
Flash, a red-and-yellow speedster named Barry Allen, harnessing some "Speed Force," disseminating through time and the multiverse.
Green Lantern, wielding a ring of willpower that manifested constructs, cosmic energy at his command. There were several, but the main one was Hal Jordan, a former air pilot.
Hawkgirl, with wings and a mace, an alien adding a layer of mysticism. Supergirl, Superman's relative, young but formidable. The oceanic rulership of one Aquaman. The shape-shifting alien Martian Manhunter, and a Cyborg fused with machinery.
Justice League, formed by these paragons, protected Earth from extraterrestrial, cosmic, and arcane threats, like the Avengers though with a more mythical inclination, operating from that Watchtower satellite. Then the Titans, a youth branch of San Francisco, coaching the next generation and the Doom Patrol, a band with strange powers, its name evoking irony given his own epithet. Doom only laughed internally, a rare spark of amusement piercing his stoicism. This world was full of potentials: heroes who could be allies or pawns, threats to neutralize or resources to exploit.
Doom confirmed that the earlier murmurs of the Beyonders in his head were of the insignificant heroes of that universe. "They all seem like a parody of the Squadron Supreme," Doom thought, referring to the Justice League.
The feed of the hologram shifted to an image of an artifact of deep interest—Mother Box. Holographic schematics rotated before Doom, representing these "living computers" from a place called Apokolips, sentient devices capable of Boom Tubes for instant travel. There was no more information about these boxes—they remained a mystery. They hummed with an energy resonating with the remnants of the Beyonder.
Doom's first instinct was conquest—to seize one and bend its power to his will—but wisdom tempered him. He had tasted divinity and paid the price; his illness was testimony to the madness of unrestrained ambition. Doom denied himself—he did not seek raw power now, not with the shadow of death encroaching.
However, Doom would obtain one of these Mother Boxes—to study it, dissect its secrets, perhaps integrate the essence into his army and further fortify the borders of Latveria. Such technology could elevate his nation beyond the grasp of the UN, a safeguard for his next heir.
As if his thoughts took shape from that last notion, the hologram shifted toward the crux of his search for the next Von Doom lineage: possible consorts to bear his biological heir, vessels whose strength would nullify the clandestine treaty and secure the dynasty of Latveria. Profiles cascaded across the holograms, each a dossier of power and allure.
First, again the image of Wonder Woman—Diana Prince, princess of Themyscira, an island isolated from the world. She was a warrior goddess sculpted from clay by Zeus himself, immortal and unyielding. Her beauty was ethereal, her form a paragon of Amazonian perfection, her spirit fierce and just. She held knowledge in diplomatic matters. She could give birth to heirs of divine power, demi-gods to rule with Doom's intellect. Her figure and her provocative attire—exposed legs, a blue skirt, red suit, red boots with golden edges, a golden eagle across her chest and magical bracelets from her home.
Big Barda, an alien from Apokolips, an imposing warrior who was once elite in Darkseid's Female Furies, now redeemed among the heroes. She had a special bond with one Scott Free; her secret identity was Barda Free. She wore a battle suit of mixed yellow and blue. Her Mega-Rod, a weapon of cosmic fury; a union with her would produce progeny of unbreakable will, warriors forged in extraterrestrial fire.
Mera of Xebel, ex-queen of Atlantis, divorced from Arthur Curry aka Aquaman, her hydrokinetic powers commanding the oceans, her royal bloodline echoing ancient myth. Doom was not surprised that an Atlantis existed there—submerged kingdoms ripe for alliance or conquest. Doom only contemplated with annoyance the different behavior of Aquaman and Mera compared to Namor and Namora.
Finally, Zatanna Zatara, known simply as Zatanna, a sorceress of unmatched arcane talent, her backward spells weaving reality itself, her lineage linked to the Homo Magi. Her magic could complement his own, producing a biological heir versed in spells defying physics. Like Wanda Maximoff, though the latter was another matter entirely for Doom.
Victor examined each one, his mind a forge of strategy. The divinity of Wonder Woman called to him—a perfect fusion of myth and strength. The alien resilience of Barda offered intrigue; Mera's aquatic dominion held strategic depth; and Zatanna's sorcery mirrored his own arts.
"Doom always achieves his objectives," he murmured, smiling and mentally chose his main female candidate.
------------------------------
Prime Earth (Multiverse DC)
Watchtower, The headquarters of the Justice League
Batman, the Dark Knight of Gotham, sat rigidly in the central control room, his black cape draped over the ergonomic chair like a shroud. The room was a hub of advanced technology: curved monitors displaying global threat assessments, holographic maps of Earth's hotspots, and real-time feeds from allied satellites. The ambient blue lighting cast harsh shadows over his hooded face, accentuating the perpetual scowl beneath the white lenses of his cowl. His gloved fingers danced across the console with mechanical precision, but his mind was a storm, calculating, dissecting, and anticipating.
He had come here for a routine inspection, drawn by an inexplicable instinct, that sixth sense perfected by years of experience in the shadows. Before him, the main console screen of the room displayed on a pedestal the Mother Box, one of the Justice League's most prized artifacts, a sentient device of the New Gods capable of opening Boom Tubes, healing wounds, or manipulating reality itself, secured here in the Watchtower vault for safekeeping after their last skirmish with the forces of Apokolips. It was a relic of immense power, guarded by layers of security designed by Batman himself, with the assistance of Cyborg and Mr. Terrific.
The image on the screen showed everything was normal, the Mother Box resting serenely on its shelf, its metallic surface etched with glowing runes of the Fourth World, pulsing softly as if alive. Everything seemed normal—too normal.
However, when Batman had personally entered the vault a few moments ago, the pedestal where the Mother Box should have been humming with its Fourth World energy was empty. Only a faint residue of cosmic static lingered in the air, like the afterimage of a star gone supernova.
Batman's white eyes narrowed. He rewound the footage, searching for anomalies—but nothing. He checked recordings from the last 7 days—nothing; two weeks—nothing; a month—still nothing suspicious; two months—again the same image. No intrusions, no alerts. The alarms had not been triggered, the motion sensors remained silent. It was as if the box had vanished into thin air.
"Impossible." Batman spoke mentally. This was clear and precise: someone had hacked and momentarily bypassed the Watchtower's security system. He leaned forward, initiating a deep diagnostic analysis. The systems were impenetrable, fortified against cyber threats from people like Lex Luthor or even extraterrestrial threats like Brainiac. Batman began peeling back layers of code, his mind racing through possibilities. Brainiac's algorithms were invasive and viral, but this felt different—elegant and too mocking. Luthor's ego-driven attacks always left LexCorp cyber signatures—predictable to Batman.
This new intruder had flawlessly looped the footage, overlaying a false reality while the real theft unfolded unseen. A ghost in the machine. The process took time, minutes stretching into eternity as Batman wrestled with the embedded anomaly. The virus was resistant, adaptable, rewriting itself on the fly. He isolated fragments, strings of unknown code mixed with patterns unseen in this world.
As he worked, Bruce Wayne recalled that these malicious patterns and codes were very similar to those that had invaded Wayne Enterprises' servers—probed, siphoning subtle data from R&D files. The Daily Planet and Gotham Gazette files had also been breached. And most importantly, the Watchtower's own databases—League member profiles, secret identities, mission records, and vulnerabilities—had been viewed, like a predator heightening its awareness of prey. Everything had been calculated invisibly. Such an attack seemed to have happened 5 days ago.
This confirmed that both cyberattacks had been performed by the same individual. Because of this, Batman had urgently summoned his trusted colleagues and friends from the Justice League: Superman and Wonder Woman. Bruce continued attempting to overcome and eliminate the cyber-malice.
The control room door slid open with a pneumatic hiss, admitting two figures whose presence Batman registered without turning. He knew their steps: the confident stride of an invulnerable Kansas farm boy, and the graceful tread of an Amazon warrior. Superman and Wonder Woman entered. Clark Kent, in his blue suit with the red S symbol of hope on his chest and his red cape behind him, walked in with folded arms, boots echoing through the room, his brow furrowed with concern. Diana Prince, radiant in her red Amazonian armor, yellow eagle emblem on her chest, red boots, yellow tiara, blue skirt, and the Lasso of Truth coiled at her hip, tilted her head inquisitively, placing her hands on her hips with a hint of worry.
"Bruce," Superman said, his voice firm but urgent. "Your call sounded serious. What's going on?"
Batman didn't look up, his fingers still flying across the keys. "Someone stole the Mother Box from the vault," he answered flatly, without hesitation.
"What?" Wonder Woman exclaimed, her voice slightly raised.
Batman gestured toward the main screen, replaying the looped footage. The holographic display showed the vault as it had been—or as it appeared: the box intact, undisturbed.
Superman leaned closer to the computer, his enhanced vision instinctively scanning the image. He tilted his head, perplexed. "I don't see anything out of the ordinary. The box is right there."
"Wait." Batman growled, his voice a low rumble. He intensified the diagnostics, layering countermeasures and firewalls of his own design. The virus fought back, tendrils of code slithering through the system like digital vines. "This isn't a standard breach. It's an overlay—a perfect illusion."
"Could it be a LexCorp virus? Luthor's been quiet lately, but this smells like one of his plans," Wonder Woman said, standing at Bruce's right side, her blue eyes sharpening as she studied the screen.
"Negative. Luthor's hacks leave identifiable traces. This is different. Cleaner. Possibly not from this world." Batman shook his head, never slowing in his work. Sweat accumulated beneath his cowl as the system strained; the Watchtower computers hummed louder, processors pushed to their limits.
Finally, a breakthrough—a crack in the virus's armor. Batman struck, unraveling the deception layer by layer. The screen flickered, distorted, then clarified. The current image: the empty vault and the bare pedestal.
Clark Kent and Diana Prince fell silent, staring at the sight, speechless. Bruce rewound the recording to two days ago—nothing; another day back—he changed the image, revealing the truth.
The trio watched the footage unfold.
A hooded, green-clad figure entered the vault with unnerving calm. It was impossible to identify whether it was human or not; no body details were visible because the figure had its back to the camera, and its green attire concealed its form. It moved with mechanical precision, without triggering any alarms. The figure approached the Mother Box, its hand—shaped like a metallic claw—extending to seize it as if claiming a trivial sphere. It scanned the artifact briefly, then turned and looked directly at the camera, white eyes glowing beneath the green hood, its face unseen, only darkness. It stared into the camera as if staring at the Trinity live, then vanished, exiting the frame's bottom, running toward the exit.
"What the hell?" Superman exclaimed, eyes wide, a rare crack in his composed demeanor.
"By the gods… Too compact, too advanced. And those eyes—almost… demonic." Wonder Woman leaned in, her hand instinctively rising to her mouth.
Batman turned his chair to face them, his expression grim beneath the mask. "That's not all. This guy didn't just steal the Box. He infiltrated our networks. League files, Wayne Enterprises, the Daily Planet, even hacked my satellites. He spied on our personal and global data—hero profiles, missions, everything. A full reconnaissance."
Superman thought carefully, rubbing his chin anxiously. "Darkseid? Could he have sent someone? Maybe he's reclaiming one of his Mother Boxes and planning another attack on us."
Batman shook his head firmly. "There are no malicious algorithm patterns from Apokolips. This is different. And there's no residual energy signature from a recent Boom Tube, according to the camera footage and Watchtower scanners."
"If it isn't Darkseid or his servants, then we can rule out Intergang. Could it be a new puppet of Brainiac?" Wonder Woman said, crossing her arms, her tiara gleaming under the lights.
"Negative," Batman replied, bringing up comparative analyses on a side screen. "Brainiac's cyberattacks leave quantum echoes. This virus is only technology—just never before seen here."
The three heroes exchanged looks, the air growing heavier. Superman stepped closer to Batman, his cape swirling. "A new villain, then? Some emerging threat from the shadows, testing us?"
Wonder Woman nodded cautiously. "Possibly. But why the Mother Box? It's not just any weapon—it's a gateway beyond our understanding."
"From the data, the guy knows the Mother Box comes from Apokolips and New Genesis. On the other hand, I suspect he's from another universe, but my doubt is that no dimensional breaches were detected here or on Earth since Power Girl's arrival from her Earth and the Crime Syndicate's invasion. The satellites picked up nothing unusual. Everything is stable and efficient. No vibrational signatures." Batman explained, lightly flexing his fingers, his mind locked on the intruder.
"If he's not from our world or another universe, then what is he? Did you see that? The being had metal arms… A rogue AI? A government black-ops creation?" Superman said, expression hardening.
"I wouldn't be surprised if Waller were behind this," Diana added, her voice firm.
Batman rose from his chair, his cape falling around him like wings, staring at them. "Whoever this guy is, he's operating in the shadows, gathering information about us, our allies, our enemies, the world. He's planning something big. I'll trace the origin of the virus. Meanwhile, we don't inform the others—not until the right moment. I'll stay alert for his next move. This isn't over."
The Justice League Trinity stood in tension, the hum of the Watchtower the backdrop to their resolve.