"…I think that's enough gaming for today," Diana said, her expression distant and unusually complex.
Alex blinked, confused by the sudden shift. Sure, they'd had a disagreement, but it didn't seem like enough to warrant that kind of reaction.
Then it hit him. Diana and Wonder Woman were supposed to be close friends—or at least strongly connected. And if that were true, then facing Poseidon—even in a fictional setting—meant confronting the darker truths of Wonder Woman's mythological lineage. Gods are drunk on power. A family of so-called deities riddled with violence, control, and cruelty.
"It was just a game," Alex said quietly. "You don't have to take it so seriously. I mostly wanted to save Medusa in the hope of stumbling onto a hidden quest or something."
Diana gave a faint smile, waving his words off without responding, then stood and turned away.
"I'm tired. Plus, we have work tomorrow," Diana said with a relaxed smile, stretching slightly. But no sooner had the words left her lips than an alarm rang out.
Their eyes widened. They turned toward the window, and froze. The sun was already rising. Golden light peeked over the horizon.
They had been gaming for over 12 hours straight without even realizing it. What started at 6 p.m. had somehow carried them all the way to 6:30 the next morning.
Alex shot up, quickly saving their progress before shutting down the PC. He didn't waste a second, rushing into the kitchen to start preparing breakfast.
Diana, though she didn't feel particularly hungry, joined him anyway. The air was quiet between them.
As they moved through the motions of cooking, Diana found herself silently reflecting on Alex's words about Medusa. It lingered in her mind—how easily he had called her a victim.
Diana had never thought of Medusa that way. For so long, she had turned a blind eye to the darker side of the gods—brushed off their cruelty, their crimes, their corruption. Now, she couldn't help but wonder… Was she really any different?
"I have to go. I'll meet you at the office," Diana said, quickly pulling out her phone after it buzzed. A Justice League alert flashed across the screen, summoning her away.
"Do you want me to bring your breakfast to the office?" Alex asked, looking up from the stove.
Diana hesitated for a moment, then gave a quick nod before turning to leave. "Thanks!" she called over her shoulder as she ran out the door.
Alex watched her go, already packing the food into containers.
Meanwhile, Diana didn't drive far. As soon as she reached a more secluded area, she parked the car out of sight and stepped out. With a quick glance around, her clothes vanished, replaced by her Wonder Woman armor. And then—without hesitation—she launched into the sky, soaring toward the Watchtower.
It didn't take long for her to reach the Watchtower. Upon arrival, she was immediately greeted by the other members of the Justice League, gathered and waiting with serious expressions. Among them stood Raven, her cloak drawn tightly around her, and Doctor Fate, radiating calm but unmistakable tension.
"What happened?" Diana asked, stepping forward. Her voice was steady, but her mind was already racing. She had a strong suspicion this had something to do with Alex.
Luthor had suddenly handed over the PC… complete with a generous refund. That alone was enough to raise suspicion. And if the League had called her in this urgently, it likely meant things had escalated.
"The Lord of Chaos, Klarion, is dead. Someone on this planet killed him," Doctor Fate announced, his voice heavy with finality.
Silence fell like a weight over the room. The members of the Justice League froze, eyes widening in disbelief.
"I thought Klarion couldn't be killed?" Wonder Woman asked, her voice low, stunned.
Klarion was chaos incarnate. A being who defied rules, who couldn't be contained or destroyed by mortal hands. The only way to force him from the mortal plane had always been to destroy his familiar—his anchor.
"That's true," Doctor Fate said with a solemn nod. "But whatever acted upon him didn't banish or dispel him—it simply killed him. Utterly."
He let the words hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "Although a new Lord of Chaos will eventually rise to take Klarion's place, many in the higher realms are shaken. Something in the lower plane shouldn't be capable of doing this—of striking down a higher-dimensional being by merely targeting its avatar."
A quiet unease settled over the room. All eyes gradually turned toward Wonder Woman. The implication was unspoken, but clear.
"Did Klarion die yesterday?" Batman asked, his voice sharp as he stood and moved toward the Watchtower's central computer, already pulling up data.
"Yes," Doctor Fate confirmed, his gaze fixed on the screen as Batman pulled up surveillance data. The screen displayed Luthor's travel history, showing that he had abruptly left the United States the day prior.
"Yesterday, around 11 a.m., Luthor departed and boarded a private jet headed for Iran," Batman stated, his tone cold and analytical. "Now… around what time did Klarion die?"
His eyes didn't leave the screen, but the question hung in the air, directed at Fate, and at anyone who might know the exact moment everything changed.
"Around 5 p.m.," Doctor Fate said.
Batman continued without pause, switching the display to footage showing the sudden delivery of Alex's replacement PC. The generous refund stood out, especially coming from Luthor, who was never known for kindness.
Then the screen shifted again, revealing a recent image of Luthor, missing an arm. It was an odd sight. With all his resources and advanced tech, Luthor should have easily replaced it within hours. Yet he hadn't. That, in itself, was telling.
Normally, Batman would have kept such discoveries to himself, analyzing them in private until he was certain. But with what Alex had already proven capable of, withholding information was no longer an option.
Alex was dangerous. Too dangerous to monitor alone. And as members of the Justice League, they now had two responsibilities: to watch him closely… and to protect him. Because if someone like Klarion had died because he threatened his peace, worse could follow.
***
"Luthor backed off… for all his intelligence, he's clearly stupid." In the darkness, a shadowy figure sat forward, placing a thick stack of papers onto a table. The documents were filled with detailed information—records, surveillance, and traces of Alex's movements. It studied the contents for a moment before speaking again, its voice calm, almost amused.
"Now, I need to test whether his powers still activate if he isn't the intended target." The first phase of the test had already been carried out. When Alex traveled with Wonder Woman, it was this being who subtly intervened, ensuring the two would be separated.
All of it had been calculated. Not to harm, but to observe. It wanted to see how Alex would react when isolated, and placed in a stressful position. Everyone who came to speak with Alex? They were all his doing, after all, Alex wasn't famous enough to call forth people to surround him with questions..
That one test had revealed two important things.
First, Alex possessed incredibly sharp senses—but they appeared to only activate in response to harmful intent. Simply putting him under stress wasn't enough. If the danger wasn't real or immediate, his powers didn't react.
Second, there seemed to be a limit. Luthor had remained distant, but the moment his intent turned hostile—on that very same day—Alex responded. And not just defensively. Luthor was affected in a way that suggested Alex had locked onto him with
It led to a compelling theory. Alex could detect and respond to individuals who both intended and were capable of bringing him harm. As seen with Trigon, Alex had sensed the danger before it even physically arrived. With Luthor, he not only sensed the threat.
That meant something even more troubling. If Alex had truly marked Luthor as a threat… he might be able to sense him at all times.
How was Alex not able to sense the shadowy figure actions? Simple. It held no desire to harm him.
Unlike Luthor or Trigon, it bore no ill will—only curiosity. It didn't want Alex dead or broken. It wanted to understand him… and, in time, control the one who possessed such unmatched power.
The second thing the test revealed was far more disturbing. Alex's power wasn't wild or uncontrolled. There were no random deaths. No unintended consequences. Everything that died around him did so because he allowed it and also wanted it.
So, what was the next step? Simple.
It wanted an explosion—a staged incident—something dramatic to draw attention. And Alex? He just needed to be there when it happened. There was no intent to harm him; far from it. Hurting Alex was the last thing it wanted. To be safe, it would orchestrate the event ontop of many layers, to ensure that he was far from the chaos.
Meanwhile, Alex stood at the dealership, eyeing a role SUVs which were parked
"These cars look a lot like those Chinese models," he muttered to himself. In his past life, China had led the automotive industry, producing some of the most advanced cars in the world. But here—this version of reality—things were different.
To his surprise, it was the United States that dominated the tech and automobile markets world wide, mainly thanks to the many genius here.
While Alex was scanning the lot, moving from one vehicle to the next in search of the perfect car, his eyes suddenly landed on a teenage girl across the way.
She stood out instantly. A beautiful goth girl, with skin just pale enough to catch the eye—but not unnaturally so. Her long black hair framed her face, and her black lipstick contrasted sharply with the subtle softness of her features. Silver cross-shaped earrings dangled from her ears, completing her unmistakable aesthetic.
Their eyes met. For a moment, neither looked away. They simply stared, as if silently trying to place each other.
At first, Alex tensed. For a split second, he thought it might be Raven. But after a quick, subtle scan of her presence, he relaxed. She was just a normal human.
"Nice jawline," she said in a somewhat emotionless, deadpan voice.
Alex raised an eyebrow, unsure if it was a compliment or subtle mockery. Her tone gave nothing away, and he couldn't tell if she was teasing him or just genuinely that flat.
"Thanks?" he replied, giving her a puzzled look. To his surprise, that seemed to amuse her. A faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She clearly enjoyed his reaction more than she let on.
"It was a compliment," she clarified, her voice still a little awkward. "At first, I thought maybe you'd had surgery or something, but… you were just born blessed—with a jawline that doesn't even need a beard to hide."
Her words came out a bit stiff, like someone not used to holding casual conversations.
"…Thanks?" Alex replied again, still unsure how to respond.
She wasn't wrong, though. He had been born with a naturally sharp jawline—no beard necessary. But he liked beards. Always had. There was something about them that felt right to him, even if he didn't need one.
"…" The air between them grew awkward fast. Neither of them seemed great at this—Alex wasn't much of a talker when it came to strangers, and the goth girl clearly didn't thrive in small talk either. Still, Alex took the initiative.
"I'm Alex. It's a pleasure to meet you," he said, extending his hand for a handshake. He could tell she was stepping out of her comfort zone just to strike up a conversation—and he respected that. Talking to people wasn't easy. In fact, it was often annoying and a hassle.
"I-I'm Rachel Roth," she said, taking Alex's hand. Her grip was stiff, a little unsure, and the nerves in her voice were clear—but she didn't pull away.