The warehouse door groaned, the rusted hinges fighting the green-light lever I'd wedged into the mechanism. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of stagnant saltwater and rotting timber. It wasn't a law office, but it had four walls and no witnesses.
I let the construct vanish. The sudden absence of the ring's hum left my ears ringing. My vision twitched—the three-tomoe pattern was draining me faster than I'd like to admit. I shut them down, the world snapping back into a flat, dull normalcy.
"Step one," I muttered, kicking a dented soda can across the floor. "Don't go blind before Tuesday."
I found a dry corner behind a stack of shipping pallets and sat down. My mind was already racing through the timeline. If the Team hadn't formed yet, I was in the clear. If they had, I was sitting in the backyard of a Justice League black-ops site.
The Ring felt heavy. In the comics, these things were fueled by 'will,' which was a poetic way of saying 'stubbornness.' I had plenty of that. But the Sharingan? That was biology. It was a processor. To use it to its fullest potential, I'd need to be crafty and creative if I'd ever hope to surpass the likes of Superman. But right now, even a simple construct felt like a marathon.
I held up my hand. "A screwdriver," I whispered.
I didn't just think the word. I visualized the weight of the acetate handle, the hardened steel tip, the way the light would refract through the green energy. Click. A shimmering tool hovered above my palm. It didn't flicker. It stayed solid.
I let it drop. It clattered against the concrete with a metallic tang before dissolving into mist.
"easier than I thought," I noted. "With this I knew instead of trying to build the whole machine. I could just build the part that does the work."
Aligning with the heroes was the only play that didn't end with me in Belle Reve or a specialized cell at STAR Labs. Batman was paranoid; if a powerhouse teenager popped up in Happy Harbor and didn't check in, he'd be hunted. But if I 'stumbled' into them? If I played the role of the gifted, slightly arrogant kid who just wanted to stay out of trouble? I could get access to their training rooms, their intel, and their tech.
I leaned my head back against the cold brick. I had the cheat sheet for this entire universe in my head. I knew about the Light. I knew about the Reach. I knew exactly which shadows the monsters were hiding in.
If I played this right, I wouldn't just be a member of the Team. I'd be the one they couldn't afford to lose.
My stomach gave a violent growl, echoing through the empty warehouse.
"Right. Step two: Figure out how a dead lawyer with a magic ring buys a cheeseburger without a social security number."
I looked at the ring. It didn't offer any financial advice, just that steady, expectant glow. I needed a plan that didn't involve mugging people—too much heat. I needed to leverage what I had.
I stood up, testing my legs. The fatigue was receding, replaced by a sharp, hungry focus. I wasn't just going to survive this world. I was going to own my place in it.