Love the Lord Your God, and Keep his requirements, his decrees, his laws and his commands always. ( Deuteronomy 11 : 1 )
Watchtower — Strategic Operations Hall
The Justice Hall of the Watchtower was heavy with tension.
Holographic displays flickered and swirled in the dimmed chamber, casting a cold blue glow on the faces of Terra's mightiest warriors.
Around the central table stood the remaining core members of the League—Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter, Flash, the only available members who responded to the threat.
Above the table, the hologram of Gotham spun slowly, its crystalline skyline pulsing faintly. Dotted across its surface were bright red markers—each representing a breach. One by one, they blinked. Dozens vanishing. Replaced seconds later by more.
The room felt like a breathing organism—one holding its breath.
Martian Manhunter broke the silence. "The breaches are accelerating. If our models are correct, we are only days—perhaps hours—from full incursion."
Wonder Woman stood beside him, her arms crossed but sword always near, her eyes scanning the data. "Has Batman left any further instructions? Coordinates? Contingency?"
J'onn shook his head. "Nothing. His last transmission was prior to entry."
Flash, slouched in his chair with restless fingers tapping the console, frowned. "And where is he exactly? Still in the Phantom Zone?"
"He went in to rescue Superman," Diana answered. "We haven't heard from either since."
Flash ran a hand through his hair. "So we're it. Great. Just great."
He sat up straighter, glancing around. "Okay… and Hal? Where's our glowstick megaphone?"
"He's patrolling another quadrant," J'onn said plainly. "He's not stationed on Earth full-time."
"Seriously?" Flash scoffed. "We've got a Kryptonian invasion on the horizon and Lantern's off world doing space cop paperwork?"
"Hey," a voice called behind them. "I heard that."
Hal Jordan walked in, his Green Lantern insignia faintly glowing. His jaw was tight, posture stiff, but he smirked anyway. "Sorry I'm late. Had to negotiate peace between two sentient asteroid colonies. Didn't think Gotham's architecture update would lead to world-ending dimensional breaches."
"You'd be surprised," Diana murmured.
Flash rolled his eyes. "Batman still not answering your space beeper?"
Hal frowned. "Knowing him, he's elbow-deep in some plan, brooding in silence and refusing backup out of stuborness."
"Or out of necessity," J'onn said. "His methods may be maddening, but they're rarely without reason."
Hal sighed and approached the table. "So what do we actually know?"
J'onn expanded the hologram, shifting focus from Gotham to a model of dimensional ruptures along Earth's upper stratosphere. The simulation showed a jagged tear—pulsing with Phantom Zone energy.
"A tear between dimensions. The Phantom Zone is weakening. Bleeding into ours."
"And we're seeing mass disappearances because of it," Diana added. "The city has issued high alert to reduce the number, the breach still swallow people."
"Not just people," Flash muttered. "Data shows air pressure drop, plant decay. It's spreading like rot."
The room went silent again.
Flash stood, voice rising. "And Zion? He should have showed up now, its exactly his rodio. At least as Nion."
Diana's brow furrowed, but her voice remained calm. "He's... occupied."
"He told us not to call unless we were all dead," J'onn added without irony.
"That's encouraging," Hal said, dryly.
"Still," Flash said, glancing around. "He knew. Didn't he? All the weapons, all the defenses. It's like... like he saw this coming."
J'onn nodded slowly. "Or caused something worse."
Hal's ring pulsed faintly, pulling up his own readings. "The Phantom Zone doesn't just tear open on its own. Something inside is destabilizing it. Maybe something—or someone—is pushing from the other side."
"Zod and his followers," Diana said, her voice sharp.
"Worse," Hal added, "There's movement—intelligent movement. Coordinated. This isn't just an escape attempt. It's strategy."
J'onn tilted his head, silent for a moment. "We prepare for war."
Flash rubbed his temples. "Y'know, for once, I'd love a street thief that wants to steal a purse."
"Hope for peace," Diana said, tightening the strap on her vambrace, "but prepare for battle."
Hal stepped toward the weapons cache built into the chamber wall. Rows of gear—some alien, some magic, some Zion's personal designs—lined the vault.
"He really loaded us up," Hal muttered, picking up a Kryptonite-tipped energy spear.
"Kryptonite, red sun rounds, Phantom binders…" Flash read off a list. "This place is a literal armory for Kryptonian war."
"He wasn't wrong to do it," J'onn said. "Earth has become a beacon—brighter than any world in the galaxy. A forest fire in the night. Everyone sees it now."
"And not all who see it come in peace," Diana added grimly.
"Well, what are we waiting for?"
The central hologram shifted again—this time to the Metropolis.
A new alert pulsed red.
A second breach had begun.
.
.
.
Phantom Zone
The pale expanse of the Phantom Zone stretched endlessly, a ghostly void where time seemed to crawl and sound never quite echoed right. The two heroes moved in silence, the oppressive stillness of the Zone pressing down on them like a weight.
Superman leaned against a jagged boulder, still pale from his time in containment. His breathing was slow, recovering but not restored. Batman paced nearby, a compact device in his gloved hand emitting quiet beeps. His eyes were sharp, calculating every variable.
"What's the plan?" Superman finally asked, his voice strained.
Batman didn't look at him at first. He pocketed the device, his cape fluttering faintly. "We locate the next breach and use it. Fast. Before they find us again."
Superman straightened up, his body aching from the dull drain of the Zone. "We need to warn the others. Zod's building an army."
Batman glanced at him. "Zod's a problem—but he's not the problem."
Superman's brow furrowed.
"I saw how the barrier between worlds cracked," Batman continued. "Doomsday did that. Zod didn't create the opening—he used it. If that creature makes it to Earth, we'll need more than just the League."
Superman's jaw tensed. "What did Zion say?"
Batman tapped his wrist interface. "He left this."
A file transferred to Superman's suit. He glanced at the blinking prompt and pulled it up with a frown. His face darkened as he read the brief.
[ADVICE: CONTAINMENT.]
[WARNING: Direct confrontation will accelerate evolution. Subject becomes stronger with each injury.]
[REQUIREMENT: Full-strength Superman or higher. Recommend extreme caution.]
Superman exhaled slowly. "So… no punching."
"Not unless you want to make him unstoppable," Batman replied. He pulled the device from his belt again—it pulsed with a soft blue light. "A breach is forming nearby. We have a few minutes."
Without another word, they pushed forward, traversing the colorless, desolate terrain. Shards of floating debris twisted overhead—time-worn remnants of dead civilizations and old prisoners.
The device beeped sharply.
Batman looked to Superman.
A silent nod passed between them.
But the moment they turned toward the breach—
"Where do you think you're going?"
The voice dripped with cruelty. The shadows shifted, and two figures emerged from the swirling mist.
Quex-Ul. Scarred, cracked armor. Teeth bared like a predator. Nam-Ek. Limping, his right arm missing, rage burning in his eyes.
"You woke the monster," Nam-Ek snarled. "Now you want to run?"
Batman's eyes narrowed, hands instinctively going to his utility belt. Superman squared his shoulders, fists rising.
Nam-Ek moved first—too slow.
Thwip!
Batman's grapple line struck him clean in the face. His head snapped back, and before his footing could recover, Batman reeled him in and flung a charged flash pellet straight into his eyes.
The explosion disoriented Nam-Ek, and Batman followed up with a flurry of baton strikes, fluid and efficient. In seconds, Nam-Ek was on the ground, tangled in corded restraints, unconscious.
But Quex-Ul had already launched himself at Superman.
The two clashed in a flurry of raw fists. Without their enhanced strength, it was a savage brawl—flesh on flesh, knuckles to the face. Superman wasn't at his best—and Quex-Ul was trained for war.
Each punch landed with meat-thudding weight. Superman reeled, caught by a hook across the jaw, blood trickling from his lip.
Batman sprinted to assist—but skidded to a halt, instincts flaring.
A spear pierced the air where he'd just stood.
"Good instincts," a new voice sneered.
Dev-Em. Broad, brutal, and grinning. He pulled the spear free and advanced.
Before he could land the killing blow—
WHAM!
A white blur slammed into him like a missile.
Dev-Em flew backward, crashing into a pile of floating obsidian rock.
Batman's eyes widened.
Padding forward, growling protectively, was a snow-white dog with burning red eyes. Wearing a collar with the symbol of the house of El.
Krypto.
"Krypto," Superman muttered between breaths, a faint recognition.
Krypto barked once—a sharp, thunderous sound—and lunged at Dev-Em again, keeping him pinned.
Batman grabbed a shock baton and flanked Quex-Ul just as he raised a jagged rock to smash it into Superman's head. The baton crackled and stabbed into Quex-Ul's ribs—electricity arced through his body. Superman seized the moment, wrapping his arms around his attacker and slamming him into the ground.
The two fell back, panting.
Behind them, the air shimmered.
The breach had arrived.
"Now or never," Batman said.
Superman nodded, stumbling to his feet as Krypto bounded beside him.
Together, the three heroes vanished into the light—
.
.
.
Keystone City – Zion's House
The house was quiet. Still.
The kind of stillness that only came when the kids were off at school and the neighborhood finally exhaled into its midday calm. Outside, the sun warmed the suburban rooftops, birds chirped lazily, and the low crime rate in Keystone City kept sirens silent.
It was peaceful.
Below it all, deep in the soundproofed basement, Zion was locked in his world.
Headphones pulsed with music—something synth-heavy and orchestral. His head bobbed in rhythm, hands moving in near-perfect sync as they directed a ballet of mechanical arms and micro-tools. They danced around him, assembling something impossible inside a containment chamber laced with gravity seals and temporal stabilizers.
Dozens of glowing components floated midair, held in shimmering stasis fields. Time had no authority here.
[Transdimensional Engine Completion – 98%]
[Processed Singularity – Stable]
[Energy Output – 100%]
[Temporal Navigator – Complete]
[Living Frame – Complete]
[Temporal Regulators – Online]
[Dimensional Anchors – Calibrated]
[Chameleon Circuit – Synced]
[…]
Zion's eyes never blinked. Not while he lowered the final plate into the heart of the machine. This part—this moment—demanded total perfection.
The instant the frame clicked into place, the engine pulsed with light. The singularity stabilized, rotating like a black star inside its cage. A deep hum filled the chamber as systems came online.
One misstep… and Keystone might never have existed.
[Engine Stable]
[Power Source Locked]
[Transdimensional Engine – COMPLETE]
Zion exhaled long and deep, removing his headphones. He tossed them onto a floating tray that drifted silently to the side.
He slumped into the chair as a bottle of chocolate milk floated to him like a reward from the universe itself.
A voice echoed in the sterile white chamber—more thought than sound.
Yo. Yo, Zion.
He blinked once.
Yo, I need your help.
Zion sipped his drink. "Let me guess… you don't know how to finish this arc."
Yeah. Forgot what I was planning.
Zion rolled his eyes. "And now you want me to go deal with Zod?"
Doomsday.
He made a face like he'd just swallowed something bitter. "Of course it's Doomsday."
Superman's not at full strength. If he fights Doomsday now… he'll die.
A sigh escaped him, heavy and reluctant. He set the bottle down and rose to his feet.
"Fine," he muttered. "Let me finish this before the girls get back from school."
Aye aye.
With a wave of his hand, the floating holograms vanished—screens, devices, machinery, even the engine. Everything dissolved into glimmering motes of light, leaving behind an eerily blank white room.
He tapped his foot.
With a soft rumble, the floor opened up. Platforms rose silently, displaying rows of his personal suits and attires—each one a masterpiece of function and design. Zion stepped forward to the "casual" section.
His hand touched a hoodie and jogger combo—charcoal black with gold trim. At his touch, the fabric disassembled into a cloud of intelligent dust and climbed over his limbs, reforming around him in a smooth motion. As it finalized, a glowing gold cross etched itself across his back. On his chest, the faint shape of an hourglass shimmered into place.
It pulsed once.
Time was listening.
Zion took one step forward—and glitched.
His form fragmented, collapsed into light and particles… and vanished completely.
The chamber fell silent once again.
Just in time.
Because the fight was ending.