4:32 AM – Metropolis
The sky split open.
Not gradually. Not with warning sirens or news alerts.
Just—split.
A meteor crashed through the clouds. Then another. Then ten more. Fire streaking across the pre-dawn darkness like falling stars that screamed.
Clark was on a rooftop when the first one hit downtown. The explosion was bright enough to turn night into day for a moment. Heat washed over his face. The smell of burnt concrete choked the air.
He was already moving, flying toward the impact zone before the sound reached him.
The building was gone. Just rubble and fire and people screaming.
Clark pulled a woman from the debris. Her arm was broken. She didn't cry. She just stared at him, eyes wide with shock. Then another.
Then he stopped moving because there were too many. Too many to save. Too many dying.
A second wave of meteors hit. This time on the other side of the city.
Then the third wave hit Central City. Four hundred kilometers away. He could hear the explosions from here. The ground shook under his boots.
5:47 AM – Wayne Manor
Bruce was in the Batcave when the screens lit up red.
Alerts. Thousands of them. All at once. Meteor impacts. Power grids failing. Emergency broadcasts activating.
Peter ran down the stairs, nearly tripping over his own feet. "What's happening?"
"They're here," Bruce said.
On the main monitor: a live feed from a news station. The reporter was panicked. Behind her, the sky was dark. Not night. Something else. Thick, black vapor rolled over the city like oil.
"This is CNN reporting from Atlanta," the woman said, her voice shaking. "We're seeing massive structures emerging from beneath the earth. They're… they're massive. Military is responding but—"
The feed cut to static.
Wade appeared, still holding a sandwich. Half a bite hung from his lip. "So aliens. Today. Cool"
6:15 AM – The Batcave War Room
Everyone was there now.
Superman, still in his suit, dirt on his face. He'd been pulling people from rubble for hours. His cape was torn.
Diana was checking her sword. The blade gleamed, but the edge was nicked. Flash was vibrating so hard the floor shook slightly. Bruce stared at the screens, watching the invasion unfold in real-time. His hands were flat on the table. Steady.
"The meteors were coordinated," Bruce said, pointing at the map. "Six impact zones. All military installations. All power plants. All communication hubs."
"They disabled our defense systems first," Diana said quietly.
"No," Bruce replied. "We did that. Remember? The disarmament treaty. The nuclear weapons we removed. The satellites we decommissioned."
Clark's jaw tightened. His hands clenched into fists. The muscle in his neck twitched.
"The aliens were never hidden," Bruce continued. "They were waiting. Building underneath. And while we were reducing our weapons, they were preparing theirs."
6:42 AM – Downtown Metropolis
The machines emerged from the ground like insects crawling out of earth.
Forty meters tall. Metal and chrome and something that looked like organic tissue. Weapons on every limb. Eyes—red, scanning, intelligent.
Clark fought one. Just one.
He punched it. His full strength. The kind of punch that should have destroyed a building.
The machine's armor dented. Barely. Then it swung a limb the size of a bus. Clark flew backward, crashing through three buildings. Glass rained down. Concrete dust filled his lungs.
He got up. Flew back. Hit it again.
The machine didn't retreat. It just kept fighting. And it was getting faster. Learning his patterns.
"I'm not fast enough," Clark said into the communicator. His voice was low. Shocked.
Nobody answered because they all heard him.
7:15 AM – Central City
The Flash hit an alien machine at supersonic speed.
The impact should have destroyed it.
Instead, Barry bounced off, skidding backward across the concrete. His body ached. Ribs probably broken. He could taste blood.
He looked up. The machine was already moving toward him again. Weapons charging.
Barry ran.
Not because he was afraid. But because he understood: running didn't work against something faster than him. Hitting didn't work because the armor was too thick. And hiding…
There was nowhere to hide.
7:43 AM – Washington D.C.
Diana fought three machines simultaneously.
Her sword cut through the armor. Not denting it like Superman's punches. Cutting it. Real damage.
But there were too many. For every one she damaged, two more emerged from underground tunnels.
And they were coordinating. Working together. Herding her into a corner.
She realized: This wasn't a fight. This was a trap.
8:00 AM – The Batcave
J'onn floated silently, watching the screens. His green skin looked paler in the blue light.
"They're not trying to conquer the cities," J'onn said. His telepathic voice was quiet. Tired. "They're trying to weaken the heroes. Tire you. Hurt you. Break your will."
"Why?" Peter asked. His hands were shaking. He was clinging to the ceiling, but his grip was loose.
"Because once the heroes fall," J'onn said, "the world falls with them. Humans can't fight machines this powerful. Not without hope."
Bruce watched Superman on the screen, still fighting, still losing ground. Clark's movements were slower now. Each punch carried less force.
"How much time?" Bruce asked.
"Before they have enough forces to take the capital? Before they fully consolidate power?" J'onn paused. "Forty-eight hours. Maybe less."
Wade stopped eating. For once, he didn't smile. He looked at the sandwich in his hand, then dropped it on the table.
"So we're losing," Wade said flatly.
"Not yet," Bruce said. He turned away from the screens. His cape swirled. "Barry, gather the team. We move in ten minutes."
"Do what?" Flash asked. His voice was raw. Exhausted. "Superman can't beat them one-on-one. We're just going to die faster."
"Maybe," Bruce said. He pulled up a holographic map. The red lines pulsed like infected veins. "But Superman isn't fighting smart. Superman is fighting like a god. And gods are predictable."
8:47 AM – The Warehouse
The team gathered. Twelve of them now. Plus H-7, the mechanical Manhunter, silent as a grave.
Bruce didn't give a speech. He just pointed at the map.
"The machines are emerging from underground tunnels," Bruce said. His voice was flat. Cold. "All connected. All feeding power from a central generator. We destroy the generator. The machines lose power. We win."
"Sounds simple," Selina said. She was cleaning her claws with a rag. "Which means it's not."
"The generator is guarded," Bruce confirmed. "Heavily. By their best soldiers. The ones they kept in reserve."
Peter looked at Wade. Wade looked at Flint. Flint looked at Otto. No one spoke. The air smelled of ozone and fear.
"We go in as a team," Bruce said. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't have to. "We hit fast. We hit hard. And we don't stop until the generator is destroyed."
He looked at Superman.
Clark was still covered in debris. Still bleeding. A cut on his cheek dripped red onto the floor. Since when does Clark bleed? Bruce pushed the thought down.
"Superman," Bruce said. "You're the hammer. Hit the front doors. Don't stop. Don't negotiate. Just break everything."
Superman nodded once. His eyes were tired. But ready.
"Diana, you're with him. Watch his back. He's going to be tired."
Diana was already moving toward the exit. Her sword gleamed.
"Flash, you're scout. In and out. Warn us if anything goes wrong."
Barry nodded. His foot tapped a hundred times a minute. Nervous energy. Or fear.
"The rest of us go down. We find the generator. We destroy it."
Bruce reached into a big bag. Pulled out a white ingot. It hummed, cold as ice. The air around it shimmered.
"Barry," Bruce said. He tossed the ingot. Barry caught it, wincing at the cold. "Your job is to jam this into the generator core. Not throw it. Not drop it. Jam it. Once it's in, the core overloads. The Supremium vaporizes. Every Imperium within ten miles dies. Instantly."
Barry stared at the ingot. His hands stopped vibrating.