Batcave — The Next Day 10:06 AM
The Batcave thrummed with a quiet, calculating tension, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.
A dozen monitors bathed the cavern in cold light, each looping different angles of the carnage in Smallville. Dust clouds rolled like apocalyptic fog. Flaming vehicles. Cratered sidewalks. At the epicenter, Doomsday—hulking, twitching, finally crumpling under the combined might of five teenage metahumans.
Batman stood motionless before the footage, arms folded over the dense weave of his suit. His cape hung still as stone behind him. For twenty-three minutes now, he hadn't blinked.
"You're brooding again, sir," Alfred observed gently, padding into view with a silver tray balanced like a diplomat's offering.
"I'm analyzing," Bruce corrected, eyes still locked on the screens.
"Yes. Brooding, but with graphs. Very you."
The tray settled on the workstation without a clink: coffee—black, because Batman—and a scone Alfred had baked that morning. Next to it, a slim silver data chip labeled with a discreet JL emblem.
Dick Grayson sat nearby, legs curled in the Batcomputer chair, mask askew from where he'd been spinning in lazy circles like a caffeinated raccoon. Thirteen years old, but talking like a podcast guest.
"Okay, but seriously? That was nuts. Hadrian lifted a flaming taxi like it was made of LEGO. Neville went full Witcher meets Mortal Kombat. And Roslyn? She threw a sun at a kaiju. Like. A. Literal. Sun."
Bruce didn't move. Didn't even grunt.
Dick flopped backwards, arms out. "Come on, B. That was Teen Titans Go meets Endgame."
Alfred arched a brow. "Master Richard, perhaps not the most reassuring comparison."
"I mean it in a good way! They were awesome. Epic. Especially Hadrian. Your godson's rocking Phoenix-tier fire magic and solar fists. And he fights like he watched every Jackie Chan movie in utero."
Finally, Bruce spoke, voice low and razor-sharp.
"He's fifteen."
Dick paused. "So was Kara. So was Zatanna. So was Donna."
Bruce turned slightly, eyes scanning a frame of Solaris unleashing a solar nova punch into Doomsday's jaw.
"Hadrian's energy output is approaching pre-Crisis Kryptonian levels. Magic amplification puts him in the same theoretical bracket as the Spectre—if the Spectre wore Chuck Taylors."
Dick whistled. "So, he's overpowered and still grounded. Got it."
Bruce continued. "Neville's fighting style is informed. Structured. His armor adapts to kinetic enchantments in real time. Roslyn... is unpredictable. Volatile solar channeling. Emotional triggers."
"Yeah, she called Doomsday a 'walking steroid meatloaf with anger issues,' right before hurling a plasma nova."
Alfred handed Dick the scone. "Very polite, though. She said thank you when I offered her tea."
Dick nodded. "She's a menace. I like her."
"Zatanna's overchanneling," Bruce said, moving to a different screen. "Mana burnout risk is high. Giovanni will not be pleased."
"Donna?"
Bruce watched a slowed frame of Troia breaking Doomsday's knee with a half-shield, half-dropkick maneuver.
"Controlled. Aggressive. Diana's early field tactics, minus the diplomacy. She's holding back. Maybe for Hadrian."
Dick smirked. "Ooooh, romantic tension! I ship it."
Bruce gave him a long look.
"What? I'm thirteen, not blind."
Silence fell again, broken only by the faint drip of the cave. Then:
"So," Dick said slowly, "are we meeting them next week? When the League gives us the tour of the Hall of Justice? You promised. Me, Wally, Kaldur, Roy—we're supposed to be getting the keys to the clubhouse."
Bruce didn't answer immediately. A new clip played: the final moment, Lilly Kent conjuring a golden incantation circle beneath Doomsday, sending him into a solar oblivion with the calm efficiency of someone emptying the trash.
"That depends," Bruce said.
"On what?"
"On Clark and Lilly. They're Hadrian, Neville, and Roslyn's parents. Kara's under Clark's protection. Lilly is Zatanna's maternal aunt and her magical custodian."
"And Donna?"
"Diana's younger sister. Diana is also Hadrian's godmother."
Dick blinked. "Wow. Superhero families are basically soap operas."
Alfred chuckled. "Master Bruce once shared a playpen with Green Arrow's quiver."
"Don't," Bruce said, with that patented Bat-glare.
Dick popped the last of his scone in his mouth. "Well, they better let us in next week. I'm bringing waffles. Everybody likes waffles."
Alfred adjusted his cuffs. "They destroyed Doomsday, Master Richard, not their tastebuds."
A soft beep from the Batcomputer interrupted the banter.
New message: Incoming: Clark Kent - Report.
Bruce leaned in. The report loaded in crisp Helvetica.
SUBJECT: SMALLVILLE EVENT BRIEFING RECOMMENDED ACTION: Enhanced Juvenile Oversight Protocols
Bruce raised an eyebrow.
"We're definitely going to need a bigger cave."
—
Dick's laughter still lingered faintly, rising up the cavern shaft like the last echo of childhood before the silence returned — solemn, heavy, and familiar. It settled across the Batcave's stone contours like fog over a graveyard. Cold. Unforgiving. Steady.
Bruce hadn't moved.
Still standing, gloved fingers flexed slightly at his sides, the cape draping like a shadow made flesh. The only illumination came from the screens in front of him — their pale light catching the edge of his cowl, reflecting off his eyes like distant stormfire.
Behind him, Alfred Pennyworth cleared his throat gently as he replaced the now-empty coffee cup on the silver tray. A man of habit and ritual. Also the only person alive who could interrupt Batman without being immediately ejected into the nearest ravine.
"Master Wayne," Alfred said, his voice that perfect blend of British understatement and paternal concern, "you've been staring at the same thirty-second loop for twenty minutes. Either it's the world's worst music video, or you've noticed something."
Bruce didn't look away from the screen. "Compare the upper spinal curve," he murmured. "The shoulder articulation. And the cranial motion on impact."
The screens split again. Side by side now — ten years of distance collapsed into twin windows of horror.
Left: The original Doomsday. The Beast. The one who brought Superman to his knees on the steps of the Capitol. Towering, relentless, as though hatred itself had grown bone armor and learned to roar.
Right: Yesterday's monster. Smaller. Still massive, still lethal — but different. Less soldier. More weapon.
"Posture's off," Bruce muttered, tapping a control. The footage slowed to one-tenth speed. "The original moved with intention. Controlled rage. Like a predator. This one—" He paused as the Smallville Doomsday staggered sideways after a punch from Kara. "—he flails. Reacts to pain more than strategy. There's no instinct. Only survival."
Alfred leaned in, adjusting his glasses with a faint click. "So… not a clone, then?"
"Not a clean one," Bruce said. "Look at the cranial plates. Misshapen. Not natural bone growth. Grafted."
"Grafted?" Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Good Lord. Like dental implants, but for war crimes?"
Bruce's mouth twitched. It wasn't a smile.
"There's more," he said, voice tightening. "This version shows rejection spikes. Every time he's hit hard, there's a surge in internal metabolic stress. Kryptonian regeneration wouldn't react that way. This is… synthetic. Forced. His body is healing against its will."
Alfred was quiet for a moment.
"You think he was human."
Bruce nodded once.
He pulled up a third screen — side-window now, bringing up new files. Gene maps. Hormonal profiles. Partial tissue breakdown. Lines of data still streaming in from the encrypted sample Clark and Lilly had managed to secure during the fight.
"Clark and Scarlett managed to extract marrow and lymphatic fluid from the rib fracture she inflicted during the final push," Bruce said, the words clinical, but the tone darkening. "What we're seeing here—" He gestured to the code — endless sequences of letters, patterns, anomalies. "—isn't Kryptonian. Not fully. It's human DNA. Genetically altered. With grafted Kryptonian analogues. Mimicry. Not inheritance."
Alfred tilted his head. "Project Cadmus?"
Bruce's jaw clenched. "If it were Cadmus, the work would be neater. This is... barbaric. Luthor would've called this a 'failure of elegance.' The gene stitching is rushed. Purpose-built. Disposable."
He tapped another key. Surveillance images flickered across the screen — military trucks, biohazard crates, aerial shots of an abandoned facility in Montana. One tagged: "WALLER 07—NO SIGNAL."
"Amanda Waller," Alfred said, the name falling from his lips like an epitaph.
Bruce said nothing.
"She's always had a flair for monstrous contingencies," Alfred continued, eyes narrowing. "But you believe she's escalated?"
Bruce turned toward him, the faintest growl in his voice.
"She didn't escalate, Alfred. She skipped straight to endgame."
He pointed at the genetic breakdown again. "Someone tried to build Doomsday. Not recreate him — build him. Piece by piece. They took a human. Injected Kryptonian mimetic cells. Grafted bone armor. They didn't clone a monster. They made one."
Alfred stared at the screen for a long moment.
"And what became of the man underneath it?"
Bruce met his eyes.
"He died the moment they started."
Another silence fell — heavier this time, pressing against the cave walls.
Then Bruce moved again, tapping out new commands. Another display came to life, running blood sample analysis against satellite data from Waller's last known ops.
"She's off the grid. No official backing. But she's still operating. Still testing. And if this thing that hit Smallville was a prototype…"
He didn't finish.
Alfred did.
"Then the next one will be worse."
Bruce nodded. Slowly. Gravely.
"I'll know more when the sequencing's complete," he said. "But someone is trying to replace Doomsday with something more controllable. A weapon they can point."
He paused. Turned toward the cave shadows behind them. His voice dropped into a lower register — colder than the cave itself.
"And whoever they're pointing it at… isn't ready."
—
Watchtower Conference Hall — 11:12 AM EST
Earth hovered beyond the reinforced glass like a fragile blue marble, oblivious to the war room orbiting above it. The Watchtower's central conference chamber was built for unity, strategy, and planetary defense. But today, it felt like a countdown.
Seven chairs formed a crescent arc around a high-tech, steel-edged table. The Founders were all present.
Superman sat at the head. Arms folded. Cape draped over his shoulder like a mantle of kingship. He looked every bit the protector of Earth, though his jaw was tight.
To his left, Diana stood tall, polished armor gleaming, arms crossed under the weight of centuries of warrior instinct. Her lasso coiled at her hip like a warning.
Arthur Curry, Aquaman, lounged in his seat like a king grown tired of diplomacy. Gold and green Atlantean plate shimmered faintly under the Watchtower lights.
Hal Jordan had conjured a holographic timeline, leaning on his elbow as a swirl of green constructs illustrated the Montana facility's obliteration. His expression was sharper than usual. Less cocky. More calculating.
Barry Allen couldn't sit still. One knee vibrated so fast it blurred. He clutched a protein bar in one hand and a half-drunk bottle of soda in the other.
J'onn J'onzz, calm as ever, sat still as stone. His red eyes reflected flickers of data scrolling across the screen. He looked unreadable. And deeply disturbed.
Batman stood.
Because of course he did.
"The Smallville Incident wasn't random," Bruce said, voice low and rough. The gravel in it echoed off the metal walls, sharpened by the weight of certainty. "We have genetic evidence. Someone's building Doomsdays."
He tapped a control on the table. A screen snapped open, revealing the Montana lab. Ruined. Scorched. Hauntingly empty.
Scarlett stepped forward. Red-and-gold armor framed her lean figure, regal and deadly. The crest of the House of El was etched onto her chest in shining red enamel, matching her cape. Her red hair, pulled back into a practical braid, glowed under the lights.
"I pulled the rib shard out myself," she said. Her voice was low, smoky, and steady—but there was fire under it. "It was rejecting its own tissue. Like it knew it wasn't supposed to exist."
Superman looked toward her. Clark Kent's calm, unreadable mask cracked just a bit.
"This wasn't just a mutation. It took resources. Military infrastructure. Millions in funding. Waller's fingerprints are all over it."
"You're sure?" Diana asked. Her tone was calm. Her eyes weren't.
Bruce flicked his fingers. Holographic overlays shifted. Military crates. Checkmate insignia. Melted walls. Grafted bone.
"This is her style. Ruthless. Precise. Disposable. The facility went dark six months ago. We only found it because Lilly tagged the rib with a kryptonic frequency marker."
"And here I thought I just liked poking things with heat vision," Scarlett muttered.
Hal snorted. "You and me both, Red."
Arthur grunted. "So what, she's playing Frankenstein?"
"Frankenstein had empathy," Bruce said.
Barry swallowed a bite of his protein bar. "So, Waller's just... building rage monsters now?"
J'onn finally spoke, voice deep and steady. "She's preparing for a world without us."
The room went still. Even Barry stopped moving.
Diana exhaled slowly. "Or a world where we can't stop her."
Scarlett met her eyes. "She doesn't see heroes. She sees nuclear codes with egos. The League's not a beacon to her. It's a threat."
Clark nodded grimly. "She doesn't trust anything she can't leash."
Hal conjured a green construct of a file labeled: PROJECT BLACK WALL.
"She's been planning this for years. This isn't rogue. It's escalation. She's not trying to kill us. She's trying to survive us."
"She took a human being," Bruce said, pointing to the rotating genome spiral. "Grafted Kryptonian analogs. Bone armor. Heat-core glands. It wasn't a clone. It was a weaponized corpse."
J'onn added, "The subject was human. Past tense."
Arthur slammed a fist into the table. "And now it's Doomsday-lite. Great. So what's next? One for each of us?"
Scarlett's jaw clenched. "If she starts mixing in Martian DNA, we're going to have bigger problems."
Barry held up his hands. "Okay, but like... how do you even fight that? I mean, we barely took one down, and that was with five teenagers punching like anime protagonists."
Bruce was already pacing. "We find her. We shut this down. Hard. Quiet. No headlines. No delays."
Hal shrugged. "So, Tuesday."
"Clark," Bruce said without turning, "You and Scarlett need to do the diplomacy. Contact the President. Quietly. If this goes public, the panic will outpace the threat."
Clark nodded. "He'll listen. He always does when it involves you."
Bruce gave him a sharp look. "Because he's terrified of what happens if I stop listening."
Scarlett smiled faintly. "Don't worry. He's more scared of me now."
Diana stepped forward, shoulders squared. "We do this together. Not as weapons. As guardians."
Arthur stood, cracking his knuckles. "Montana, huh? I'll bring the trident."
Barry zipped to the door and back in a blink. "And waffles. In case it turns into brunch."
J'onn stood at last. "I will begin telepathic sweeps of Waller's known affiliates."
Bruce finally looked around the room. "This isn't containment. It's cleanup. If we don't stop this, she'll release something worse. And next time, it won't stop in Smallville."
The room grew quiet again.
"And if we do find her?" Scarlett asked.
Batman met her gaze.
"Then we end it."
The League didn't adjourn so much as they moved — coordinated, determined, deadly.
Earth kept spinning beneath them.
Unaware.
For now.
—
Montana – Blacksite Echo 4:47 PM MST – Windchill: -6°C
The jet descended like a ghost, its stealth plating humming as it passed beneath the radar net. A windstorm of snow swept up as the vessel settled on the cracked helipad nestled between jagged ridges. The site had once thrummed with buried menace. Now it just felt... empty. Abandoned, but not forgotten.
Batman stepped off first, the weight of his boots soundless on the frostbitten concrete. His cape flared behind him, dark and ominous as it fluttered in the wind. His eyes, behind the cowl, were locked in constant analysis.
Scarlett followed in his shadow, her crimson cloak snapping like a flag. Runes shimmered faintly across her armor, gold light dancing with every movement. She landed beside him and adjusted the grip on her staff, lips pressed in a tight line.
"This place smells like secrets," she murmured, voice low and firm, her eyes scanning the perimeter.
Superman landed softly behind them, a crimson blur becoming flesh and cloth. His cape billowed, snowflakes hissing into steam as they touched the warmth of his body. "There was power here," he said. "Whatever it was, it burned bright. And then it ran."
"Or was pulled," Batman growled. "This was deliberate. Controlled evacuation."
"Place gives me the creeps," Flash muttered, appearing in a blur of red and gold beside Diana. He zipped up his jacket. "Not saying I need Scooby-Doo vibes, but this? This is The Thing reboot material."
"There are no bodies," Aquaman said, stomping through a sheet of brittle ice. His trident swept the ground as if sniffing for danger. "No drag marks. No bones. That's not natural."
"Because it wasn't," Wonder Woman said, stepping out of the snowdrift. Her voice carried like a sword unsheathing. "I feel the residue of fear. Of blood and binding. They were afraid of something."
"Yeah," Hal Jordan muttered, descending on a green disk of hardlight. "And they cleaned house so fast you'd think the place was gonna explode."
"It nearly did," J'onn said, phasing through the ruined wall like a ghost. "The psychic echoes here are... fractured. Like something tried to erase itself from memory."
Scarlett crouched by a scorched panel, fingertips ghosting across the metal. Runes lit up as she whispered in a forgotten tongue. Her brows furrowed. "This door was welded shut... then blown open from the inside."
"Backtrace the seal," Batman said, kneeling beside her. He didn't need to tell her twice.
Flash zipped past them, circled back with a grin. "Wanna tag team this, Bats? One-two punch, like old times?"
Batman didn't even glance up. "You breach. I decode."
"Aww. You do care."
In a blur, Flash disappeared and returned holding a half-melted terminal and a bundle of sparking wires. "One bouquet of death, served fresh."
"Charming," Scarlett muttered.
Batman unspooled a miniature data spider, sliding it into the cracked console. His fingers danced over the display. "Encrypted. Badly. They tried too hard. It's messy. Amateur panic."
"Or a distraction," Superman said, eyes glowing faintly as he scanned beneath the floor. "There are layers beneath us. Dozens of sealed chambers."
"Scrubbed, but not clean enough," Batman growled.
"They were in a rush," Flash said. "Big mood."
Wonder Woman emerged from a crumbling hallway, dragging behind her a warped crate marked with half-burned stencils. She dropped it near Bruce with a dull thud. "Marked Belle R. Biohazard warnings. Arcane glyphs. They were experimenting."
"On inmates," Scarlett said grimly.
Batman nodded. Files blinked to life on the cracked screen.
PROJECT: HECATE MATERIAL: BIZARRO_GENOME SUBJECT-RED_X: STAGE 3 UNIT-TF_X_003_READY
Scarlett leaned closer. "'TF_X'? Task Force designation. Waller."
More data scrolled across the cracked screen.
TASK FORCE X // OPERATIVE ROTATION: 001: FLAGG, R. 002: QUINN, H. 003: CROC, W. 004: BLOODSPORT [DECEASED?] 005: PEACEMAKER // STATUS: DEEP OPS
Batman stared at the names, the scowl on his face deepening.
"Waller," he growled. "She's building monsters. And she's deploying them."
J'onn phased down beside him. "She is not building contingency plans. This is a private army. A covert strike force."
"An illegal one," Hal added. "She's using black budget operations to run an entire squad off the books."
"Ghosts," Scarlett said. "She's recruiting ghosts."
"Wait," Flash said, tapping the screen. "TFX-009... Ravager? That's Slade's kid."
"Rose Wilson," Batman confirmed. "Trained by the League. Disappeared two years ago."
"They were testing them," Wonder Woman said. "Pitting them against Doomsday-class threats. See who survives. Who evolves."
"Who obeys," Batman finished.
Aquaman kicked open a bulkhead. "She's making her own League. A secret one. No rules. No conscience."
"No soul," J'onn echoed softly.
Flash suddenly paused, eyes flicking back to the terminal. "Uh, guys... I'm getting a live ping. One of these files updated yesterday."
Batman's head snapped toward him. "Location."
Flash tapped his temple. "Florida. Swampland. Edge of the Everglades. File tag says 'Nightingale.'"
Scarlett straightened, staff pulsing. "That's one of Waller's codenames."
Batman stood slowly, cape shifting around him like storm clouds. "We're not chasing a ghost anymore."
He looked around the abandoned base—the hollow wreck of a war no one voted for.
"We're hunting one."
—
Florida – Everglades Periphery 11:02 PM EST – Humidity: 93%
The jet skimmed low above the marshland, its black hull mirroring the moonlit swamp below. Spanish moss tangled like gray webs across the mangrove limbs, and the air buzzed with the drone of insects that didn't fear gods or men. Beneath the fog-drenched canopy, something pulsed. Hidden. Watching.
Batman's voice came over the comms, gravelly and controlled.
"No bright entries. We go in silent. Assume nothing."
"Didn't realize we were going for stealth in a swamp," Hal Jordan muttered, landing with a soft green shimmer. "Pretty sure something just tried to crawl up my leg and whisper dark secrets in my ear."
"Focus," Batman snapped, crouched by a half-submerged root, cowl already lowered over narrowed eyes. "Waller built this place to stay forgotten."
Scarlett floated beside him, crimson cloak trailing behind her like smoke in the fog. Her staff glowed faintly, runes pulsing in rhythm with the earth.
"The wards are recent," she said, her voice low and composed. "She's rewriting the swamp. It obeys her now."
Flash perched on a crooked root, arms folded.
"Cool, cool. Love a haunted marsh. Real Scooby-Doo-core. You think speedsters can get trench foot? Asking for a friend."
Superman descended above the canopy, the moonlight glinting off his cape like bloodied silk. His eyes flared faintly.
"There's a structure ahead," he said. "Fifty meters underground. Shielded. I can't see inside."
"So… trapdoor?" Diana asked, brushing thick leaves from her bracers as she stepped up beside them.
"More like a coffin," Flash muttered. "A coffin with Wi-Fi."
"Both," Batman confirmed. He moved to a mound of disturbed earth and brushed away moss with one gloved hand. "Disguised sigils. Layered Atlantean and Apokoliptian. That's not security. That's desperation."
Aquaman grunted. "Deep-sea desperate. She mixed old gods and bad tech."
Scarlett extended her hand, armor flickering with golden energy. The runes harmonized with the buried glyphs beneath the soil.
"I can open it. But the wards will scream."
"Let them," Batman said, rising to his full height, voice steel. "Let her know we're here."
Scarlett drove her staff into the muck. A wave of magical energy exploded outward, red and gold lightning crackling through the trees. The air screamed, the earth groaned—and with a hiss of ancient hydraulics, a steel hatch yawned open, dripping with swamp water and rot.
"Ladies first?" Flash quipped, flashing a grin.
Diana stepped past him without breaking stride. "Stay close. I don't trust what lies beneath."
Interior – Nightingale Blacksite 11:15 PM EST
The lift dropped them in absolute silence. Too clean. Too still. The walls gleamed with sterilized metal and dried menace.
Superman inhaled slowly. "Lead-lined walls. Kryptonite particulates in the ventilation. Someone really didn't want me snooping."
Flash coughed. "Wow. Rude and radioactive. Love the ambiance."
Batman, standing in the center of the group, eyes sharp beneath the cowl, didn't react.
"Expected," he said flatly. "This is Waller's house of horrors."
They moved forward, boots echoing lightly. Doors lined the corridor—each marked by glyphs, labels, and security seals.
SUBJECT: TFX-005
ALIAS: PEACEMAKER
MENTAL STABILITY: DEGRADED
RELEASE CODE: W-OMEGA
SUBJECT: TFX-009
ALIAS: RAVAGER
STATUS: LOCKED // REHABILITATION FAILURE
One door hung off its hinges, metal warped inward.
Inside, the room looked like it had been clawed apart. The walls were gashed, the lights shattered. Blood painted a wide arc across the far wall.
"Whatever got out," Flash said, eyes wide, "left fast. And angry."
J'onn crouched near the entry, his eyes glowing softly. "I feel no mind. Only the memory of rage. And programming."
"They're not soldiers," Diana said, voice tight. "They're weapons."
Scarlett stepped forward, brow furrowed. "No. They're warnings."
Suddenly, klaxons howled.
ALERT: BREACH DETECTED – LEVEL OMEGA-2
AUTO-RESPONSE ENGAGED
NIGHTINGALE PROTOCOL: IN EFFECT
Red light flared. Steel shutters slammed down behind them. Gas hissed from the ceiling.
Scarlett raised her staff. "Containment spell—now active."
Hal conjured a green bubble over the group. "Because nothing says 'fun' like involuntary nerve gas."
Diana turned to Batman. "Options?"
He didn't hesitate. He pressed a switch on his belt, stepping forward like a storm made flesh.
"Nightingale. This is Batman. Waller—if you're listening, you've got five seconds to start talking before I turn your little dollhouse into slag."
There was a pause. Then the intercom crackled.
"Well," said a voice, smooth, cold, and entirely too amused, "someone woke up cranky."
Batman's jaw clenched. "Amanda."
"Bruce," she said, her voice practically smirking. "Always so dramatic. Let's talk."
—
Interior – Nightingale Control Chamber 11:28 PM EST – Below Level Omega-2
The reinforced blast doors groaned as they slid open with a hiss of hydraulics and the scent of scorched steel. What lay beyond was not a war room—not exactly. More like a high-tech execution theater. Monitors flickered across the walls like judgmental eyes. Black glass gleamed under sterile lighting. And in the heart of it all, seated behind a reinforced command desk built like a bunker, Amanda Waller waited.
Waller didn't rise. She didn't have to.
"Welcome to the abyss, Mr. Wayne," she said, voice dry as old gunpowder.
Batman stepped forward, cloak whispering like death in the air. His cowl cast a longer shadow than the room allowed. Behind him, Scarlett moved like a razor wrapped in silk, staff in hand, crimson hair tied back in a sleek braid. Flash arrived next, vibrating subtly with tension, eyes scanning every light, every motion.
Wonder Woman followed, posture regal and shield raised. Hal Jordan hovered at the doorway with his ring glowing, while Aquaman leaned in the frame like a storm barely held at bay.
And finally, Superman floated in. Not a step. Not a sound. Just a slow, inevitable presence. Arms folded. Cape billowing like the last warning.
Batman didn't blink. "Waller."
"Tactical armor, three metahumans, two demi-gods, and a speedster. You do know how to make a girl feel popular," Waller replied.
"This isn't a social call," Batman growled. "You deployed a Doomsday-level threat in Kansas. You turned a soldier into a monster. We want answers."
"And I," said Waller, reaching calmly beneath her desk, "have failsafes."
She pressed a button.
Two surveillance feeds flickered to life. Doors hissed open.
Cell TFX-009: Ravager.
Cell TFX-005: Peacemaker.
Ravager stepped out first, her swords already drawn, eyes cold as glacial steel. Her silver hair whipped behind her like a war banner. Peacemaker followed, cracking his neck.
"What the hell is this?" Flash asked, incredulous. "You let them loose?!"
Waller shrugged. "I gave them a reason to live another hour. Survival instinct tends to motivate."
"You know we'll beat them," said Diana, her voice like a drawn blade.
"Of course," Waller replied with a small smile. "But I only need five minutes."
"They're not going to survive this," Superman said, voice low and restrained.
"They were never meant to," Waller said.
Scarlett took a step forward. "You turned them into weapons."
"I didn't turn them into anything," Waller said, meeting her eyes. "The world did. I just gave them focus."
Outside, alarms screamed. Explosions rocked the lower levels. The screens showed Ravager launching herself at Wonder Woman. Peacemaker opened fire with a stolen sonic rifle, bouncing beams off Hal's shield. Flash blurred to intercept.
Batman didn't flinch. "The Doomsday creature. Was it human?"
Waller nodded once. "Joshua Walker. U.S. Marine. Bronze Star. Two tours in Kandahar. PTSD, disciplinary record, no family. Ideal candidate."
"He volunteered?" Superman asked, fists clenched.
"He signed a piece of paper," Waller said.
"You manipulated him," Scarlett said.
"I used what was offered," Waller snapped. "We grafted Doomsday DNA into willing subjects. Walker was the only one who didn't die. Stage 7 compatible. Nearly killed Flagg Sr. during containment."
Batman took a step forward. "You were going to nuke the town."
"Kryptonite-laced missile, five minutes from launch," Waller confirmed. "Target was Smallville. Seven thousand civilians. I considered the math."
"You're insane," Hal muttered.
"No," Waller replied, calm as a loaded gun. "I'm the firewall between your idealism and annihilation."
"You don't get to decide who lives and dies," Diana said.
"Somebody has to," Waller said.
Superman stared her down. "I saw what Walker became. That wasn't a man anymore."
"And yet he held off your wife," Waller said, nodding toward Scarlett. "And made you sweat. It took the arrival of five superpowered teenagers to take him down. So maybe the system works."
"You think this is working?" Batman's voice was steel.
Waller finally stood. Her presence filled the room like smoke.
"You're going to take me in? Where, Bruce? The Hague? Guantanamo? Every file, every weapon, every horror I command is signed off. Black budget. Top brass. I don't answer to the League."
"You answer to someone," he said.
"Do I?" Waller smiled. "You and I are the same, Bruce. We do what needs doing. We lie. We hurt. We fight the dirty fight. The only difference is... I don't wear a mask."
Outside, Ravager's sword clashed against Wonder Woman's bracers. Peacemaker slammed a grenade into Hal's construct, detonating like a solar flare. Aquaman hurled his trident like a bolt of wrath. J'onn phased through the floor, grabbing Peacemaker from below.
Scarlett looked at Bruce. "She won't stop. Not ever."
"No," he said. "But neither will we."
Waller sat again, the war outside pulsing in the glass.
"You came here for a monster, Bruce," she said. "But sometimes monsters keep the devils at bay."
He turned away.
"Then it's time the devils learned to fear the dark."
—
Wonder Woman drove her shield into the wall with a thunderous boom, the impact rippling through the corridor like a bell tolling for war. Ravager's twin blades screeched against the divine metal, a fountain of sparks hissing as steel met god-forged shield. The assassin flipped back in a perfect arc, landing low, blade ready, eyes fierce.
"You really want to do this?" Diana asked, her tone calm, almost maternal. Her stance was that of a warrior who'd faced centuries of blood and battle—and still didn't want to strike first.
Ravager snarled, silver hair whipping like a banner behind her. "I'm not here for want. I'm here because she made me."
Their blades collided again—pure Amazonian might meeting League of Shadows precision. Diana pushed her back with a grunt, boot catching Ravager in the ribs. The younger woman flew, slammed into a column, and collapsed in a crouch.
Blood dripped from her lip. She grinned.
"You hit like a goddess."
Diana stepped forward, eyes narrowing. "I am one."
—
Down another corridor, Flash zipped through the debris-strewn hall, weaving between bursts of sonic fire. Peacemaker stood at the far end, cackling as he fired an Apokoliptian-enhanced rifle that glowed with unstable violet energy.
"He's got Apokoliptian hardware!" Barry shouted into the comms. "Seriously?! Where's he even getting this stuff? eBay for war criminals?"
"Not for long," Hal Jordan muttered, flying in with a green construct forming midair. A spinning buzzsaw screamed forward—elegant and glowing.
Peacemaker caught it. Mid-air. With one hand.
"What the—" Hal ducked just in time as Peacemaker hurled the spinning construct right back like a discus.
"Okay," Hal grumbled, ducking behind a floating green wall. "New plan: no more toys for the lunatic."
Barry zipped behind Peacemaker and began circling, creating a wind vortex. "Try aiming now, Walmart Punisher!"
Peacemaker howled, firing wildly—then a glowing emerald boxing glove the size of a truck slammed into his chest and launched him through the wall with an unceremonious crunch.
"Boom," Hal said, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulder. "Still got it."
—
Through the rubble, Peacemaker stumbled back to his feet—bloodied but laughing. He didn't see J'onn emerge from the floor behind him, eyes glowing faintly.
J'onn reached out and grabbed him by the throat.
"There is still a man inside you," the Martian said quietly, voice like cool wind across scorched earth. "I can feel him. He is screaming."
Peacemaker roared, swinging a blade formed from the rifle's shattered stock—but J'onn phased, and the strike passed through air.
"I will not let you fall further," he said, reappearing behind him.
—
Back in the control chamber, Amanda Waller sat silent—until her fingers slid toward a hidden panel beneath the console.
Scarlett's eyes flashed. "She's trying to port out!"
Waller pressed the button. The floor beneath her lit up—runed circuitry and swirling plasma beginning to form the base of a teleport sigil.
"Nice trick," Scarlett said, spinning her staff. "But I came prepared."
She slammed the staff into the metal flooring. Golden runes exploded outward in a flash of arcane brilliance, clashing with the portal's energy. The floor buckled. Lights died. The portal fizzled into smoke.
Waller's smirk faded.
"Oops," Scarlett said sweetly. "Your getaway car just got towed."
Golden chains erupted from the staff's runes—links forged of light and fire, spiraling through the air like serpents. They snapped tight around Waller's wrists, ankles, and waist, pinning her to the command chair like a prisoner at judgment.
"You have no authority—" Waller began.
Scarlett stepped forward, voice low and unwavering. "You don't get to talk about authority when you play god with broken children."
The chains cinched tighter. Waller winced.
Batman stepped into view from the shadows, cloak sweeping the floor. "Effective."
Scarlett didn't look at him. "One I've been saving."
Hal, Superman, and Aquaman regrouped, battered but alive. Flash zipped in next, vibrating with adrenaline.
Diana stepped in last, pushing the bruised but unconscious Ravager ahead of her.
Batman's voice was gravel. "It's over."
Waller, bound and glaring, spat, "For now."
Superman crossed his arms. "You'll answer for everything."
Waller sneered. "To who? The Senate? The UN? All of you live in a fantasy. I deal in reality."
Scarlett raised her staff again. The golden chains flared brighter.
Batman spoke quietly. "Then get used to a new one."
The League stood together as Waller fumed in her glowing prison.
It was over.
For now.
---
Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Click the link below to join the conversation:
https://discord.com/invite/HHHwRsB6wd
Can't wait to see you there!
If you appreciate my work and want to support me, consider buying me a cup of coffee. Your support helps me keep writing and bringing more stories to you. You can do so via PayPal here:
https://www.paypal.me/VikrantUtekar007
Or through my Buy Me a Coffee page:
https://www.buymeacoffee.com/vikired001s
Thank you for your support!