Several Days Later
Rain fell gently over the cemetery on the outskirts of Metropolis, each drop a tiny mirror reflecting the gray, mournful sky. The wind seemed reluctant to disturb the gathering, as if even nature itself understood the sanctity of the moment.
Rows of black umbrellas stretched across the hillside, a sea of sorrow under the weeping heavens.
Reporters had been kept well outside the perimeter, this was not a public spectacle. This was a funeral. A quiet farewell.
Two polished coffins rested beneath a white canopy, their surfaces gleaming under the dull light.
One bore the name:
Lois Lane
The other:
Jimmy Olsen
Around them stood family, friends, colleagues from the Daily Planet, and members of the Justice League.
No one wore their costumes.
Not today.
Even the heroes had come dressed in black.
Near the front stood Superman.
His hands were folded in front of him, his posture rigid, his expression calm.
Almost too calm.
Beside him stood Wonder Woman, her presence a silent pillar of strength. She had not left his side since the attack, her hand resting on his shoulder in a gesture of solidarity.
Behind them, Flash stood unusually still, his usual restlessness replaced by a solemn stillness. His eyes were fixed on the coffins, his face pale.
Nearby, Green Lantern spoke quietly with several members of the Daily Planet staff, his voice low, his tone respectful.
Further back, Batman stood alone, his posture rigid, his expression unreadable. Observant. As always. Even during mourning.
Among the gathered heroes was Martian Manhunter, silent, his head lowered in respect.
Dozens of other heroes attended as well. Some had known Lois personally. Others had fought beside Superman for decades. Some had simply come because no one should bury family alone.
The minister finished speaking, his final words carrying softly across the cemetery, like a whisper on the wind.
"May those who remain find the strength to honor those who have gone before them."
Silence followed.
No applause.
No speeches.
Only grief.
Slowly, the mechanisms beside the graves activated. The two coffins began descending into the earth, the sound of the lowering straps creaking echoing across the cemetery like a funeral dirge.
No one moved.
Superman watched, his blue eyes never leaving Lois' coffin.
Every centimeter it descended made the reality harder to deny.
Eventually, it disappeared below the edge of the grave.
Jimmy's followed moments later.
Workers respectfully removed the straps.
One by one, flowers were placed beside the graves.
Wonder Woman stepped forward first, her expression stoic but her eyes glistening. She laid a single white rose on Lois' grave, then Jimmy's.
Flash followed, his movements slow, his face drawn. He placed a bouquet of blue and white flowers, Lois' favorites, beside the graves, his hands lingering for a moment before he stepped back.
Green Lantern came next, his ring humming softly as he formed a small, glowing tribute, a lantern that floated above the graves, its light casting a soft, emerald glow over the flowers.
Others followed.
No words were exchanged.
None were needed.
At the Back of the Crowd
Standing beneath a large oak tree, Derrick watched the proceedings.
He wore a simple black suit, a white shirt, a black tie.
To everyone present, he looked exactly like another grieving League member.
His face showed solemn respect.
His posture remained composed.
No one noticed how still he truly was.
Pov switch... Derrick's Thoughts,
Funerals.
Humans require ritual to process irreversible loss. It is a mechanism for closure, a way to quantify what is otherwise incomprehensible.
My eyes remain fixed upon the graves.
Emotion binds them together and that makes them very predictable.
I slowly observe everyone present.
Every heartbeat.
Every breathing pattern.
Every scent.
Every conversation.
Every relationship.
My mind categorizes them automatically.
The League is emotionally compromised right now, but the rich boy remains cautious.
As for Superman, he is currently psychologically unstable and Wonder Woman has assumed the role of emotional support and the fastest man in world, the Flash, was suppressing his survivor's guilt from the recent event, I guess it's tough being the fastest but not always being on time..
My thoughts shift.
Continue maintaining cover and No unnecessary risks unless I have no choice because if I'm found out before I secure the best biomass, I'll be cooked.
Then
I remembered the Watchtower.
Specifically… two chairs.
One frequently used by Flash.
The other by Firestorm.
Invisible spores remain dormant upon their surfaces.
Patient.
Waiting.
Infection probability increases with repeated exposure.
No need to rush on this one,
A predator survives by allowing prey to lower its guard especially when the prey can change time by running a bit too fast.. .
My gaze drifts across the assembled heroes.
So many remarkable beings.
Kryptonians.
Martians.
Atlanteans.
Magic users.
Living energy.
I think quietly.
Each possesses unique biological or metaphysical advantages.
None should be approached directly without exposing my true self and intentions.. .
Preparation first.
Knowledge first.
Assimilation later.
There is no excitement.
No malice.
Only biological calculation.
Several rows ahead, Martian Manhunter suddenly frowned.
Something…
A faint ripple.
Not words.
Not images.
Just…
Movement.
Mental movement.
He turned slightly, his telepathy brushing against Derrick's mind.
For the briefest instant,
It felt strange.
Not hostile.
Not aggressive.
Just…
Immense and layered,
As though countless thoughts existed beneath one calm surface.
Martian Manhunter withdrew immediately, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"His thoughts are unusually disciplined" J'onn Thought to himself.
He glanced toward Derrick.
The young man remained motionless, his eyes fixed upon the graves.
J'onn reflected quietly.
"Perhaps its grief" he thought.
He has experienced the destruction of his own world, according to the history he shared.
J'onn offered a small, sympathetic nod, then returned his attention to the ceremony.
He thought nothing more of it.
But someone else noticed.
From across the cemetery, Batman had been watching Derrick almost the entire service.
Not constantly, that would be obvious.
But frequently.
Small observations.
How Derrick reacted.
When he reacted.
Whether his expressions matched everyone else's.
Whether his breathing changed during the burial.
Whether his eyes wandered.
Batman noticed something subtle.
Derrick mourned correctly.
Perfectly.
Perhaps… too perfectly.
Not exaggerated.
Not artificial.
Simply… precisely appropriate.
Batman in his Bruce Wayne disguise, folded his arms, his expression unreadable.
"You understand human behavior." he thought to himself..
Very well.
His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
But understanding isn't the same as feeling.
He looked toward the freshly filled graves, then back at Derrick.
Everyone else saw another grieving hero.
Batman saw…
A question that still lacked an answer.
And until he found it,
He intended to keep watching.
Evening Falls and the memorial service gradually came to an end.
One by one, the mourners departed.
Some returned to families.
Others returned to patrol.
Several members of the Justice League quietly made their way back toward the Watchtower.
Not everyone, however.
Superman remained behind for a while longer.
He wanted a few final moments alone beside Lois' grave.
Wonder Woman stayed nearby without intruding.
She understood some grief required silence.
Outside the Cemetery
A black limousine waited near the entrance.
Its driver stood respectfully beside the rear passenger door.
Alfred Pennyworth gave a small nod as Batman approached.
Walking a few paces behind him was Martian Manhunter in his human disguise.
J'onn hesitated, his eyes shifting toward Batman.
He opened a telepathic channel.
"Bruce… there is something regarding Derrick."
Batman subtly lifted one gloved finger, a silent signal.
Wait.
Not here.
Not where dozens of enhanced senses still lingered, especially with Derrick's unknown abilities...
J'onn immediately understood.
He closed the telepathic link, giving a small nod.
The two continued walking without another word.
Elsewhere at the Watchtower..
The Watchtower felt unusually subdued.
Normally, conversations echoed throughout its halls.
Tonight…
Everything was quieter.
Inside one of the common rooms sat several League members:
Firestorm
Black Canary
Captain Atom
Flash
Hawkman
Coffee cups rested on the table.
No one seemed interested in drinking them.
Black Canary finally spoke, her voice quiet.
"I still can't believe Joker actually went that far."
Firestorm sighed, his energy aura flickering slightly.
"He crossed a line that shouldn't exist."
Captain Atom folded his arms, his voice grim.
"If he's convicted, there won't be a prison capable of holding him forever."
Flash leaned back, his usual humor absent.
"I keep thinking…"
He rubbed his forehead, his expression haunted.
"If I'd just been one second faster…"
Hawkman shook his head, his voice firm.
"Don't."
Flash looked up, his eyes wide with self-doubt.
Hawkman continued, his tone unyielding.
"Every warrior carries battles he couldn't win."
"Don't create another one in your mind."
Silence returned, heavy and oppressive.
Then Black Canary quietly added, her voice barely above a whisper.
"My biggest concern isn't Joker anymore."
Everyone looked toward her.
She continued, her gaze steady.
"It's Clark."
No one disagreed.
Pov switch, Derrick.
I stand near the doorway, listening quietly.
Outwardly, I appear sympathetic.
Inside, my thoughts are much colder.
Still debating whether one man deserves to live.
An entire room of the world's greatest heroes and none are willing to cross that line.
Predictable of DC characters, especially in this world .
I turn away, my expression neutral.
Fortunately… their morality is their problem.
Without another word, I walk down the corridor toward my assigned quarters.
The others barely notice.
Private Quarters
The automatic door slid shut behind me.
My room remained exactly as I'd left it.
Simple.
Minimal.
Convincing.
I removed my jacket, placed it neatly over a chair.
Then lay upon the bed, closing my eyes.
Not because I needed sleep.
I hadn't truly slept in years.
The Blacklight Virus had long since eliminated that necessity.
Instead
I remained perfectly still.
Waiting.
Listening.
Planning.
One Hour Later, in Gotham city..
Rain tapped gently against the limousine parked outside Wayne Manor.
Inside
Only two figures remained.
Batman.
Martian Manhunter.
Alfred quietly stepped away, giving them privacy.
Batman finally broke the silence, his voice low.
"I see you've also figured out Derrick is lying about why he came here."
J'onn nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful.
"Yes."
A pause.
"His mental fluctuations are unlike anything I've encountered."
Batman looked toward him, his eyes sharp.
J'onn chose his words carefully.
"His surface thoughts remain remarkably calm like the first time he appeared."
Another pause.
"But I sensed something beneath them…"
He frowned, his voice dropping.
"Chaos."
"Layer upon layer."
"Thousands… perhaps more."
"Not voices."
"Not personalities."
"Just… overwhelming mental density."
Batman reached beneath the dashboard.
A concealed compartment opened.
A holographic display rose between them, flickering to life.
Dozens of files appeared, images, mission reports, energy readings, DNA scans, combat footage, psychological observations.
Every page bore Derrick's name.
Batman looked directly at the hologram, his expression grim.
"I've never trusted him from the moment he arrived."
J'onn gave the faintest smile.
"You rarely trust anyone immediately."
Batman almost smiled himself.
Almost.
He enlarged another file, footage from Derrick's arrival, then the robot attack, then the Daily Planet, then the funeral.
Each clip paused at specific moments.
"Look."
J'onn examined them carefully.
Batman continued, his voice methodical.
"Every emotional response."
Another image.
"Measured."
Another.
"Every decision."
Another.
"Optimal."
He enlarged the moment Derrick chose to capture Joker before helping civilians.
"Most heroes instinctively prioritize immediate rescue."
He looked toward J'onn, his eyes unreadable.
"He prioritized eliminating the source."
J'onn considered it, his expression darkening.
Batman continued, his voice cold.
"Efficient."
"Logical."
"Not necessarily wrong."
Another pause, the weight of the implications hanging in the air.
"But it isn't how heroes think."
The hologram shifted again, showing Derrick's performance during training.
Batman folded his arms, his jaw tightening.
"He continually reveals only enough power to solve a problem."
"Never more."
"Never less."
J'onn nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing.
"As though he's constantly managing everyone's perception of him."
Batman met his eyes, his voice a blade.
"Exactly."
Silence filled the car, thick and heavy.
Finally, Batman deactivated the display, his expression resolute.
"Until I know who he really is…"
He looked out the rain-covered windshield, his voice low.
"I'll keep watching."
J'onn inclined his head, his expression serious.
"And I shall continue observing his mind, carefully."
Batman nodded once, his gaze distant.
Without another word, Martian Manhunter became intangible, his body passing silently through the limousine's roof.
Moments later, he disappeared into the night sky.
Batman remained seated, his mind racing.
Thinking of potential counters and contingency plans.
Elsewhere..
Back aboard the station, the Watchtower drifted silently above Earth.
Inside its central monitoring chamber, banks of holographic displays cycled through thousands of feeds from every continent.
Weather systems.
Orbital traffic.
Emergency broadcasts.
Military satellite telemetry.
Most of it was routine.
Most days, nothing required the full attention of the League.
Tonight was one of those nights.
Or so it seemed.
Cyborg stood before a floating console, one side of his face illuminated by streams of blue data.
A three-dimensional map of San Francisco hovered in front of him.
"…Okay let's see what we got going on here.. ."
His mechanical eye tracked dozens of moving icons.
"The metahuman gang hit another armored convoy."
He expanded the reconstruction, his fingers dancing over the holographic interface.
"They're getting smarter."
Several trajectories appeared, flickering in the air.
He frowned, his voice thoughtful.
"They're deliberately avoiding civilian casualties."
That alone made the case unusual.
Someone had organized them.
Someone disciplined.
He reached toward another projection,
Then every screen in the room abruptly flashed crimson.
PRIORITY ALERT
LEVEL SEVEN
A calm, computerized voice echoed throughout the Watchtower.
"Attention Justice League personnel."
"Confirmed metahuman prison breach."
"Multiple hostile escapees detected."
Cyborg's expression immediately changed, his eyes narrowing.
He enlarged the alert, his voice sharp.
"All available members respond."
His voice echoed through the station, urgent and commanding.
"We've got an active prison break."
Within seconds, doors opened throughout the Watchtower.
Heroes converged.
Black Canary arrived first, her boots clicking against the metal floor.
Behind her came Firestorm, his energy aura flickering brightly.
Moments later
Derrick entered, his expression carrying just enough concern to appear genuine.
Cyborg enlarged the tactical map, his voice urgent.
"We've confirmed multiple escaped prisoners."
Another image appeared, the prison's western wall had been blown completely open.
Security forces were engaged in heavy fighting.
Thermal imaging revealed dozens of combatants.
Black Canary crossed her arms, her expression grim.
"Who's leading it?"
Cyborg pulled up a hologram, Bane, his massive form towering over the battlefield.
"Bane."
He didn't come alone.
Several enhanced mercenaries surrounded the image, their armor gleaming under the floodlights.
Military-grade weapons.
Power armor.
Portable breaching equipment.
Black Canary studied the layout, her mind racing.
"They're splitting our attention."
She pointed toward three rapidly moving signatures.
"Killer Frost."
Another.
"Weather Wizard."
Then another.
"Killer Croc."
She looked toward Firestorm, her voice firm.
"Derrick."
"You two are our strongest available hitters right now ."
"I want you intercepting the escapees."
"They're priority one."
She turned toward Cyborg, her tone decisive.
"You and I will stop Bane before he opens the rest of those cells."
Cyborg nodded, his voice steady.
"Works for me."
No one objected.
Derrick simply inclined his head, his expression neutral.
"I'll assist however I can."
Exactly what everyone expected to hear.
The Prison
Several hundred kilometers away,
Chaos reigned.
Emergency sirens screamed across the sprawling prison complex.
Floodlights swept smoke-filled courtyards.
Security drones exchanged fire with armored mercenaries.
Prison guards struggled to maintain defensive lines.
Concrete barriers had been overturned.
Watchtowers burned.
At the center of the assault stood Bane, his massive form a tower of destruction.
Even without Venom pumping through his body, he looked enormous, his muscles straining against his tactical gear.
He calmly watched another blast tear open a security checkpoint, his expression unreadable.
Then
A tiny earpiece in his ear crackled.
A distorted voice spoke, cold and calculating.
"Status."
Bane answered without hesitation, his voice a growl.
"Everything proceeds according to schedule."
The unknown figure replied, their voice smooth, almost amused.
"Excellent."
"The target is already en route."
Bane's eyes narrowed, his mind racing.
"I understand."
The transmission continued, the voice sharp.
"Remember."
"Observe."
"Do not interfere beyond necessity."
Bane's gaze shifted toward the smoking skyline, his expression darkening.
"I know my role."
The communication ended.
Without another word, Bane crushed an approaching security drone with one hand, then turned back toward the battle.
Far above the clouds,
Firestorm streaked through the night sky, a blazing trail of nuclear fire marking his passage.
Beside him flew Derrick, his movements effortless, his expression calm.
To any observer, they looked like two heroes racing to save lives.
Firestorm looked ahead, his voice tense.
"We should be there in under two minutes."
Derrick nodded, his voice steady.
"Understood."
Firestorm accelerated, his body glowing like a second sun.
Derrick followed effortlessly, his mind racing beneath his calm exterior.
Behind an expression of quiet determination,
A different thought surfaced.
Interesting.
The behavioral changes are subtle.
Nothing noticeable to outside observers.
His gaze lingered briefly on Firestorm, his mind analyzing.
Continue acting naturally.
No deviation.
No suspicion.
Excellent.
His face never changed.
Only the silence between thoughts remained.
Below them, city lights blurred together.
Ahead
Smoke climbed into the sky.
The prison appeared over the horizon, its silhouette jagged against the night sky.
Even from kilometers away, explosions lit the darkness, flashes of orange and red painting the clouds.
Emergency aircraft circled overhead, their searchlights sweeping across the broken walls.
As the two heroes descended, the scale of the assault became clear.
Prison guards exchanged fire with heavily armed mercenaries.
Escaped metahumans fled through shattered security gates.
Several armored vehicles burned near the entrance.
Firestorm landed first, his boots crunching on the debris-strewn ground, his energy aura casting flickering shadows.
"Split up!"
"I'll contain the eastern breach!"
Derrick nodded, his voice calm.
"I'll reinforce the western perimeter."
Neither questioned the decision.
Immediately, Derrick launched himself forward, his movements fluid, his speed controlled.
A massive armored mercenary swung an electrified hammer at him.
Derrick sidestepped, his reflexes precise, then delivered a controlled strike to the man's torso, knocking him unconscious without causing lasting injury.
Another rushed him with an energy rifle.
Derrick twisted beneath the weapon, swept the attacker's legs out from under him, and disabled the rifle with a precise blow before leaving the man alive.
Everything appeared measured.
Controlled.
Heroic.
Exactly as the League expected.
Across the battlefield,
Bane watched, his expression unreadable.
Not the guards.
Not the explosions.
Only Derrick.
Hidden within one lens of his tactical mask, an advanced recording system silently transmitted everything he saw.
Movement speed.
Reaction time.
Combat posture.
Strength estimates.
Target prioritization.
Every detail streamed toward the mysterious observer who had orchestrated this operation.
Bane spoke quietly to himself, his voice a low growl.
"So…"
"You truly came."
He watched Derrick dismantle another squad of mercenaries with restrained efficiency.
No wasted movement.
No unnecessary violence.
Bane frowned, his instincts flaring.
"He is holding back."
The recording continued uninterrupted.
Somewhere beyond the prison,
An unknown watcher received every frame,
And waited for the moment Derrick would reveal something the Justice League had not yet seen.
The western prison yard gradually fell silent.
Floodlights illuminated cracked pavement and scattered debris.
Emergency sirens continued their rhythmic wail across the complex as prison security regained control sector by sector.
Above the prison, helicopters circled cautiously, their searchlights sweeping every rooftop.
The battle was nearing its end.
Derrick POV..
The mission is effectively over.
Security has regained control.
Most of the escapees have been intercepted.
Firestorm is engaging Killer Frost.
Cyborg and Black Canary have isolated Bane.
Flash is evacuating wounded personnel.
No immediate observers.
Good.
There is always information after a battle.
Information decides the next battle.
Not strength or speed but
Knowledge.
I search the abandoned corridor carefully, my senses sharp, my mind analyzing.
Discarded equipment.
Broken communications.
Several unconscious mercenaries.
Professionals.
Disciplined.
Someone paid them well.
I begin piecing together what little I can without drawing attention.
The operation feels… incomplete.
Too organized.
Too controlled.
Not the chaotic assault Bane normally prefers.
Someone else planned this.
Someone remained hidden.
That interests me.
Far more than Bane himself.
A few minutes later, I finish examining the evidence available to me.
There are fragments of conversations.
Partial mission objectives.
Enough to form only one conclusion.
The mercenaries believed they were freeing specific prisoners.
Not all of them.
Only several carefully chosen metahumans.
More importantly,
Every surviving clue points toward a single fact.
They never met their employer.
Everything was relayed indirectly.
Encrypted communications.
Dead drops.
Anonymous instructions.
This was Professional,
Very professional.
I dislike unknown variables, especially in world like this one.
Across the Battlefield
Bane slowly backed away from the central courtyard.
Around him
League members steadily pushed his forces backward.
Firestorm's nuclear constructs sealed one breach in the prison wall.
Flash had already evacuated dozens of injured guards.
Black Canary's sonic cry forced another squad of mercenaries to surrender.
Everything was collapsing.
Bane expected that.
The prison itself had never been the true objective.
Then
His visor flashed.
The recording from Derrick's sector completed its upload.
Automatically
Bane opened the file, his expression shifting as he watched.
He replayed it.
Again.
Slower.
Something…
Something had happened during the brief period Derrick disappeared behind the maintenance corridor.
Not enough to fully understand.
But enough to make Bane's instincts react.
The new "hero" had behaved in a manner that did not fit the image presented to the Justice League.
There were inconsistencies.
Movements impossible to explain.
A composure that seemed… unnatural.
Bane's tactical mind immediately began rearranging every observation he'd made since Derrick arrived.
His pulse quickened.
"That isn't a normal metahuman…"
He looked across the battlefield toward Derrick, his expression dark.
For the first time
Bane felt something unfamiliar.
Unease.
Somewhere Elsewhere
Far from the prison,
Inside a dark command room, the anonymous observer watched the transmission end.
The final frames froze, Derrick walking calmly back toward the battle, as though nothing had happened.
Silence filled the room.
Then the observer finally spoke, his voice cold, calculating.
"Replay."
The footage ran again.
Then once more.
Several analysts quietly exchanged uncertain glances.
One finally broke the silence, his voice hesitant.
"We're missing approximately twenty-two seconds."
The observer nodded, his expression unreadable.
"I noticed."
Another analyst enlarged the surrounding frames.
"No evidence of equipment failure."
"Transmission remained stable."
"Visual obstruction only."
The observer folded both hands, his voice a blade.
"So he deliberately moved where he could not be fully observed."
Nobody answered.
The room grew quiet again.
Finally
The observer issued another order, his voice sharp.
"Continue surveillance."
A pause.
"I want everything."
"Every public appearance."
"Every mission."
"Every conversation he has ."
If he truly is what I think he may be…
The sentence remained unfinished.
But the implication hung in the air, heavy and foreboding.
Back at the prison
Bane activated his communicator, his voice a growl.
Static answered.
Most of his forces had already been captured.
The mission had failed.
His employer had gathered the data desired.
Remaining served no purpose.
Bane looked once more toward Derrick, his mind racing.
"If my suspicions are correct…"
"He is far more dangerous than the League realizes."
For perhaps the first time in many years,
Bane chose retreat without hesitation.
He triggered several smoke charges throughout the courtyard.
The battlefield vanished beneath thick gray clouds.
Flash immediately shouted, his voice echoing through the chaos.
"Visibility just dropped!"
Black Canary covered nearby guards, her voice sharp.
"Cyborg, infrared!"
"I'm already on it!"
By the time the smoke dispersed,
Bane was gone.
The Heroes
"Sector Three secured!"
Firestorm floated above the damaged prison yard, his energy aura gradually dimming.
His voice was tired, but relieved.
Killer Frost had already surrendered after finding herself surrounded.
Weather Wizard had been restrained by specialized containment technology.
Killer Croc lay unconscious beneath reinforced restraints.
The prison remained damaged,
But operational.
Cyborg landed beside Derrick, his voice concerned.
"You alright?"
Derrick nodded, his expression calm.
"Nothing serious."
"You?" he asked pretending to care..
"We're good."
Black Canary approached moments later, her expression grim.
"Good work."
She surveyed the battlefield, her mind racing.
"Considering how this started…"
"It could've ended much worse."
Nearby
Prison personnel began escorting captured escapees back toward reinforced containment blocks.
Medical teams rushed between the wounded.
Flash reappeared, carrying another injured officer, his voice exhausted but determined.
"Last evacuation complete."
He smiled weakly, his usual energy drained.
"Nobody else inside."
A collective sigh of relief followed.
Derrick POV..
Outwardly, I appear as composed as ever.
Helpful.
Professional.
Reliable.
Inside, my thoughts move elsewhere.
Someone organized today's assault.
Someone remained hidden.
Someone gathered information.
That bothers me a lot more than expected,
Predators prefer knowing who else hunts nearby.
Unknown observers complicate long-term plans.
I glance briefly toward the skyline, my senses sharp.
Nothing.
No visible aircraft.
No satellites out of place.
Nothing unusual.
Yet…
My instincts remain active.
Someone had watched today.
I simply lack enough information to determine who.
For now
That uncertainty will have to remain.
Watchtower
Hours later
The League returned to orbit.
Repairs.
Debriefings.
Medical evaluations.
The typical post mission routine.
Batman had not participated in the operation.
Yet before the official reports even concluded,
He had already requested every available recording from the prison.
Every security camera.
Every body camera.
Every drone feed.
Every League communication.
Cyborg looked up from his console, his expression curious.
"You think something's off?"
Batman answered simply, his voice low.
"I think something else may have happened during that mission."
"What?" Cyborg asked..
"I don't know yet." he said..
Batman watched the first recordings begin loading, his eyes sharp, his mind racing.
Somewhere within hours of footage,
He suspected there was a detail everyone else had overlooked.
And Batman had built an entire career upon finding overlooked details.