Bruce sat in the dim light of the study, five photos spread across the desk like a hand of cards he couldn't win.
The first was Superman. Hovering over Metropolis. Cape fluttering in wind that didn't exist in a still photo. History: Unknown. Arrived three years ago. No records before that. No birth certificate. No childhood. Just… there.
The second was Wonder Woman. Walking through Gotham's museum district. Dark hair. Armor under a trench coat. Current residence: Apartment 4B, The Kensington, Washington D.C. Rent paid in cash. No lease.
The third was The Flash. A blur in a Central City security cam. Barry Allen. CSI lab technician. Address: 1048 Merton Street, Central City. Third floor. Fire escape. Mother alive. Father in prison.
The fourth was Wolverine. Grainy photo from a bar fight in Canada. Scars. Cigarette hanging from lip. Claws barely visible, slicing through a steel table. Location: Unknown. Probably moving. Probably hunting.
The fifth was empty. Just a note in Bruce's handwriting: Martian. J'onn J'onzz. Telepathic. Weakness: Fire.
Bruce tapped the Flash's photo first. His finger lingered on the red blur.
"Barry Allen," he said. Voice low. Flat. "He's the easiest to reach. Fastest to convince."
Peter leaned over his shoulder, chewing on a pen cap. He stopped when Bruce didn't look up.
"You're really gonna just… knock on his door?" Peter asked. "Like, 'Hey, speedy, wanna join a secret team'?"
Bruce finally looked at him. Eyes cold. Calculating. "Not just join. Help. We need his speed for the warehouse raid. Tonight."
Wade, sharpening a katana on the couch, didn't look up. The steel sang against the whetstone. Shing. Shing. Shing.
"What if he says no?" Wade asked. "Do we tie him up? Kidnap his dog? I'm good with dogs."
"He won't say no ," Bruce said. He stood up.
Bruce grabbed his black spider-mask from the desk. Slipped it into his pocket. The fabric was silent. Deadly.
"Peter, you're with me," he said. "Wade, Flint, Ivy—stay here. Guard the manor. If J'onn comes back, bring him to the cave."
"The cave?" Peter asked. He dropped the pen cap. It rolled under the desk. "We have a cave now?"
"Yeah, it's ready now," Bruce said, while walked towards garage.
Peter's breath caught.
The Batmobile sat in the center of the concrete floor. Black. Sleek. Predator-like. The hood was impossibly long. The wheels were massive. A bat symbol gleamed on the side.
"Whoa," Peter whispered.
Bruce walked toward it. "We need to move fast."
The car hummed to life. Lights flickered red.
Peter circled it, eyes wide. "Can I drive?"
"No," Bruce said, sliding into the driver's seat.
"Why not?"
"You're seventeen."
Peter climbed into the passenger side. The leather seat was warm. The dashboard glowed with screens—weapons systems, engine diagnostics, navigation. Too much power in one machine.
Bruce pulled out smoothly.
The Road to Central City
The highway stretched empty in the pre-dawn darkness.
Bruce accelerated. 80 km/h. 120 km/h. 160 km/h.
The road ahead was clear. Just asphalt and shadows.
Bruce pressed harder.
The Batmobile shot forward. 200. 240. 260 km/h.
Peter's body pressed back into the seat. The engine sang. Trees and telephone poles became blurs.
Then—brake lights ahead. A truck.
Bruce didn't panic. He just eased off the accelerator. Smooth. Controlled. The car slowed like it was breathing.
The truck passed. The highway was clear again.
Bruce glanced at Peter.
Peter was staring forward, hands gripping the armrest.
"Still think you can drive this?" Bruce asked.
Peter shook his head slowly.
The car merged into Central City. Bruce eased off the speed. 120. 80. 40. Normal traffic. Normal rules.
Barry Allen's apartment smelled of instant noodles and stale coffee. Small. Second floor. Fire escape outside the window rattled in the wind.
Bruce didn't knock. He tapped on the glass instead. Three sharp raps.
Barry jumped inside, spilling cereal everywhere. Milk dripped off the table onto his sweatpants. He was holding a TV remote, eyes glued to a game show, looking like a guy who'd given up on the day three hours ago.
He opened the window. Cold air rushed in.
"Uh… can I help you?" Barry asked. His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. "I didn't order pizza."
Barry's eyes went wide. He dropped the remote. It hit the floor with a plastic clack.
" Spider-Man?" he said. "What are you—how did you—did I do something wrong? I paid my taxes. Mostly."
"I need your help," Bruce said. He didn't blink. "There's an alien conspiracy. They're controlling senators. They're planning an invasion. I have a team. We're hitting their warehouse tonight. We need speed."
Barry blinked. Once. Twice. "okay, don't say ..I'm in "
Barry hesitated. Then he zipped into his bedroom.
Came out wearing a red suit with a lightning bolt. Rough stitching. Homemade. The fabric shimmered slightly, like it was vibrating.
Bruce nodded. Once. "Good. Let's go."
Barry took a deep breath. Stepped onto the fire escape.
And vanished in a red blur but haw dropped when he saw bat mobile.
" Bruce! Is this your, can I drive"
Bruce didn't flinch. Peter and him just turned and walked down the stairs and enter the car.
"lets race to this address," Bruce said while gave the note.
Washington D.C. – 10:37 PM
Wonder Woman's apartment was on the fourth floor. No elevator. Stairs made of concrete and iron. Bruce climbed them without breathing hard. Peter swung up the side of the building, sticking to the shadows, his suit absorbing the moonlight.
Bruce knocked once. Loud. Final.
The door opened. Diana Prince stood there. She wasn't wearing armor. Just jeans and a white shirt. But her eyes were sharp. Ready. Her hands were empty, but Bruce knew she could kill him with a pen if she wanted to.
"who are you?," she said. Her voice was low. Warm, but with steel underneath. "I wasn't expecting you."
"We need to talk," Bruce said. "About the aliens hiding in government."
The apartment was clean. Minimal. A sword leaned against the wall, the blade gleaming. A golden lasso coiled on the table, glowing faintly, like it had its own heartbeat.
Bruce didn't sit. He stood in the center of the room. Hands at his sides. Ready.
Diana moved faster than Bruce's spider-sense could track. One second she was across the room. The next, her hand was at his throat, lifting him off the ground. Her grip was iron. Warm skin, but strength like a hydraulic press.
"Careful, intruder," she said. Her voice was low. Dangerous.
Peter dropped from the ceiling, landing between them. His boots hit the floor with a thud.
"Whoa, okay, let's not kill the boss yet!" Peter said. His voice was high. Nervous
Diana dropped Bruce. He landed on his feet, breathing steady. He adjusted his collar. Didn't flinch.
She walked to the table. Picked up the golden lasso. It glowed brighter in her hand, the light washing over her face. "This is the Lasso of Hestia. It forces truth. No lies. No mental blocks.."
Bruce straightened his jacket. His eyes never left the lasso. "okay, try me?"
Diana wrapped the lasso around bruce own wrist. The gold light flared, bright as the sun.
So, tell me your purpose for contacting me" she said.
The air shimmered. The light pulsed. Truth.
"Alien attack is coming, i need your help , we are assembling heros ?"
"how did you know about me."
" government files, have your data?"
Diana hesitated. Her eyes flickered to the sword. To the window. To Bruce.
Then she nodded. "Yes."
Bruce exhaled. A small breath. Barely noticeable. "Good. We move in one hour."
Diana unwrapped the lasso. The light faded. "Then let's not waste time."
Metropolis – 1:12 AM
Superman's penthouse was dark. He wasn't home.
Bruce found him on the roof of the Daily Planet, staring at the stars. The wind was cold up here. Superman's cape snapped in it like a flag.
"Clark," Bruce said.
Superman turned. Slowly. His eyes narrowed when he saw the black spider-mask. The lenses glowed white in the dark.
"Bruce Wayne?" he said. His voice was calm. But there was tension in his shoulders. "What are you wearing?"
"Something that works," Bruce said. He pulled off the mask.
The wind whipped his hair. Behind him, Peter dropped from the sky, hanging upside down on a web. Barry vibrated in place on the ledge, a red blur that made the air hum. Diana stepped out of the shadows, sword in hand, the steel gleaming.
Superman's eyes went wide. He took a step back. His boots clicked on the gravel.
"You… you have a team?" he said.
"We're hitting an alien warehouse tonight," Bruce said. He didn't wait for permission. He walked forward. " I know you are helping humans, but we need powerhouse to eliminate this threat."
Superman crossed his arms. His muscles bulged under the suit. "Aliens? What kind?"
"Shapeshifters. Mind readers. Weak to fire and sunlight. They've infiltrated the government. Senator Carter is one of them."
Superman's face went hard. His jaw tightened. "Carter? The one who pushed disarmament? The one I… I supported?"
"The same," Bruce said. He didn't soften the blow. "He's not human. He's Imperium."
Superman was quiet for a long moment. The wind howled around them. A siren wailed in the distance.
Then he nodded. Once. Sharp. "I'm in."
Bruce didn't smile. He just turned. "Good. Follow us."
Wayne Manor – 3:47 AM
The Batcave was no longer empty.
Long tables. Maps. Weapons. Screens showing the warehouse layout in blue and green. The air smelled of wet stone, gun oil, and Barry's nervous sweat.
Peter sat next to Barry, who was vibrating slightly in his seat. His foot tapped a hundred times a minute. Diana stood by the sword rack, cleaning her blade with a cloth. Clark leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his cape still wet from the rain. Wade was eating a taco, crumbs falling on the floor. Flint and Ivy were checking gear, sand swirling around Ivy's vines.
Bruce stood at the head of the table. His hands were flat on the map.
"Here's the plan," he said. His voice echoed off the stone walls. "Barry, you disable the ion projector. Diana, you take the containment pods. Clark, you hold the roof. Peter, Wade, Flint—you're with me. We find Carter. We expose him."
"And me?" a voice said from the shadows.
Everyone turned.
J'onn J'onzz stood there. Green skin. Red cape. Eyes glowing like embers. He didn't walk. He floated.
Peter dropped his web-shooter. It hit the floor with a clack.
"Okay, now I'm scared," Peter said. His voice squeaked.
J'onn stepped into the light. The glow from his eyes illuminated the table.
"I am here to help," he said. His voice was in their heads. Telepathic. Calm. But tired. So tired. "And to warn you."
"Warn us about what?" Bruce asked. He didn't reach for a weapon. He just watched.
"Their weakness," J'onn said. He floated to the table. Placed a small metal bar on the map. It was silver-white. Glowing faintly. "Sunlight. Fire. But there is another. White Supremium."
"White what?" Wade asked. He stopped chewing. A taco crumb fell from his lip.
"Supremium," J'onn said. "A rare metal. From my world. The only thing that can kill an Imperium permanently. Without it, they regenerate. Even after fire. Even after sunlight."
Bruce's eyes narrowed. He picked up the ingot. It was heavy. Cold. Like holding a piece of ice from space.
"Whata the plan?" he asked.
J'onn said. "this ignot has to be entered into main mother ship in which main emporium boss lives, his life and other forms are connected to that ship, if we can somehow installed this in mother ship, they will self destruct ."
Bruce looked at the metal. Then at the team. At the heroes. At the monsters. At the last Martian.
"Good, so we can only wait, this ship enter earth," he said. He placed the ingot back on the table.