October 7, 2037 – 00:37, The Hollow (Former Robinson Park, Gotham)
The Hollow's crystalline walls glowed with violet light. Each pulse from the Karam Reactor sent ripples across jagged quartz, painting the chamber in shifting rainbows. Nexus closed his eyes, letting the resonance vibrate in his bones.
"Three down," Harleen said, sliding a holo–tablet toward Luthor. The display showed fragmented security grids and falling Syndicate assets.
Luthor's scarred jaw clenched. "Johnny Quick, Atomica, Deathstorm—each neutralized."
Nexus opened his eyes. Holograms of his fallen foes hovered in the air, frozen in the moment of their defeat. He nodded. "Their strengths were tailored for each. They adapt. So do we."
Katana cleaned her Soultaker blade, each stroke precise. "Owlman has doubled the fortress layers. No breach for thirty–six hours."
"Tomorrow night," Harleen continued. "Superwoman's Submission Ritual. She's moved it forward."
Nexus felt his focus sharpen. He tapped a floating control, shifting his power stars: Data Analysis faded; Strategic Assessment flared. His auxiliary stars—Truth Resonance, Illusion Mirror, Emotion Destruction—orbited like silent guardians.
"Then we strike swiftly," he said. "No hesitation."
Arthur Curry—Sea King of Earth-3—entered, water dripping from his trident-shaped pauldrons. His voice was calm, measured. "Ultraman's forces are on observation. They've withdrawn to reinforce Superwoman's ground, but they won't act until they understand our location."
Nexus inclined his head. Arthur's undercover role, posing as Syndicate's marine liaison, gave them eyes in the fortress. "Keep them off balance."
Solomon Grundy—scientist and sentinel—stepped forward, massive form casting long shadows. "Superwoman's power lies in her mind control. Her lasso perverts truth into fealty."
Luthor crossed his arms. "She commands worship, not just obedience."
Nexus turned to his team. The reactor's glow refracted across their determined faces. "We will not only stop her ritual. We will unmake it—and give that power back to those she broken."
October 7, 2037 – 01:15, Superwoman's Quarters (Syndicate Headquarters, Gotham)
Luxurious columns rose to meet vaulted ceilings. Golden plaques from Themyscira gleamed, tarnished only by cracks that looked like gnawed edges. Weapons of torture hung beside broken shields.
Superwoman—this Earth-3's twisted Amazonian—paced before a cracked mirror. Her armor, spiked and lethal, reflected her cold gray eyes. She tested the coils of her Lasso of Submission; it hummed with corrupted energy.
Owlman—Thomas Wayne Jr.—stood silently. His eyes narrowed behind a mask that showed no expression. "Your ritual comes at a pivotal moment," he offered. "The Syndicate needs a show of strength."
She scoffed. "Strength? I deliver truth. Tonight, twelve sisters will renounce free will—embrace perfect order."
He studied her. "If Nexus appears—"
"You doubt me?" She clipped the lasso to her hip, light dancing across her gauntleted hand. "I will bind him and bend him. His precious hope will snap like a brittle branch."
Owlman inclined his head. "Contingencies are wise."
She turned, silvered lips curling. "Fear is my contingency."
October 7, 2037 – 04:47, Simulation Chamber (The Hollow)
Projected ruins of Central Park floated in midair—statues, shattered benches, ritual circles all rendered in glowing data lines. Nexus moved through them, testing scenarios.
Harleen watched over his shoulder. "You've been running this for hours."
He paused the simulation on Superwoman's face, twisted in triumph. "Her pleasure in domination is her Achilles' heel. Remove that reward, and her foundation crumbles."
She tapped a control. "Her corrupted lasso ties to her pleasure centers—neural feedback loops that addict her to control."
He nodded. "We purify it. Reforge her mythology into one of liberation."
He configured three primary stars—Molecular Reconstruction, Truth Resonance, Hope Catalysis—and activated them in sequence. "Broadcast the transformation. Her followers must see the fall of their symbol."
October 8, 2037 – 19:28, Metropolis Central Park (Former Hope Gardens)
Metropolis's once-hopeful park lay under a dull red sky. Trees bowed under corrupt Amazon magic; their leaves whispered fear. In the center, the statue of Hippolyta stood chained, head bowed—an insult carved in bronze.
Twelve candidates knelt in concentric rings. Their white robes were stained with dust and fear. Furies, Amazon-clad soldiers of the Syndicate, patrolled the perimeter.
At precisely 8:00 PM, Superwoman descended onto the raised platform. Her armor gleamed, spikes glinting. She raised her voice, amplified by ancient Themysciran spells twisted by Syndicate science.
"Sisters," she intoned, "through submission we achieve perfection. Tonight, twelve will forsake their own wills."
Not a head lifted. The air was thick with enforced silence.
From the crowd, twelve stepped forward—Emma Pierce among them. The youngest, barely eighteen, shoulders trembling, eyes flickering with terror and something else… a spark.
Superwoman circled Emma, lasso humming like a caged storm. "Emma Pierce," she called, "what holds you back?"
Emma swallowed. "I… I—"
"Then your mind needs… clarification." The lasso snapped toward Emma's throat.
A voice rang out—soft but unyielding, echoing from every speaker, tree, and broken fountain:
"Is this what Amazons become—slaves instead of liberators?"
Superwoman flinched. Gray eyes snapped around. "Show yourself!"
"What would Hippolyta think?"
The voice swelled. The reactor-linked magics pulsed in the distance. Violet light fractured on the platform's edge. Nexus materialized in a prism of fractured glow. His form solidified; the lasso's magic slipped through his blanked aura.
Superwoman's roar shattered the night. She snapped the lasso at him, but it passed through empty air. He knelt calmly—compelled, yet resolute.
"Even you cannot resist!" she bellowed.
He looked up, crystalline eyes shining. "Hope." The single word roared louder than any cheer.
The yellow corruption in the lasso fractured into gold. Nexus seized it, its warmth a living memory of truth. With a sweeping arc, he cast purified energy across the kneeling women.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Heads lifted. Eyes cleared.
Superwoman lunged with sword drawn, blade hunting his heart. Nexus activated Illusion Mirror—twelve forms surrounded her, voices chanting:
"This tool was forged for truth, not tyranny."
She slashed at each form, but they dissolved into light, reforming elsewhere. Frustration contorted her features.
Behind her, the chained Hippolyta statue groaned. Bronze links melted like wax. The queen's head lifted, eyes proud once more. Freedom bloomed in metal.
Superwoman clutched her head as Pleasure Negation rippled from Nexus's palm. She sank, the magic severing her corrupted pleasure centers.
From the crowd, Emma emerged. Her robes rustled against grass as she approached. Nexus offered her the lasso. "A protector's tool," he said.
Emma hesitated, uncertainty flickering. Then she grasped the handle. Light bloomed like a sunrise over storm clouds.
Superwoman roared and charged. Nexus sidestepped, activating Combat Adaptation. She struck stone; he rippled away. With a final sweep, Emma's lasso coiled around Superwoman, binding her in golden filaments.
Truth forced from her lips:
"I… wanted worship… superiority…"
That confession rang through the speakers. Thousands of women heard her shame unfiltered.
Nexus placed a hand on her shoulder. "You will remember every life you broke." Molecules shifted as Molecular Reconstruction encased her in a harness of containment—cold, unyielding, inescapable.
She screamed as she was led away by Grundy and Katana. Their steps echoed through the transformed park.
October 8, 2037 – 20:05, Metropolis Broadcast Tower
Harold "Hal" Jordan—Earth-3's Power Ring—sat in a news booth, ring's glow pulsing in his trembling hand. His eyes darted to the monitor showing the disrupted ritual.
Lucy Lane—Earth-3's voice of the Syndicate news network—looked into the camera. Her platinum hair framed a defiant, controlled expression.
"Good evening," she began, voice smooth but edged with tension. "Superwoman's Submission Ritual has been… compromised." She paused, swallowing. "Eyewitnesses report the presence of a figure named Nexus—an interloper from another Earth who claims to restore truth. Reports indicate a mass awakening among the victims." She turned off the broadcast quietly, breathing rattled. "This changes everything."
Jordan's ring flared. Fear surged through him—its energy feeding the ring, yet paralyzing him. He whispered. "He's coming for me next."
October 8, 2037 – 22:17, Syndicate Headquarters (Gotham)
In a war room lined with shattered holo–displays, Thomas Wayne Jr.—Owlman—stood before broken footage of Superwoman's fall. Ultraman—Kal-Il of Earth-3—loomed behind him, eyes glowing faintly with heat vision.
"Unique power configurations," Owlman noted, voice steady. "Each designed to weaponize their symbolism against them."
Kal-Il slammed a fist into a console, sparks flying. "Enough analysis! I will burn him to ash!"
"Like Deathstorm?" Owlman countered. "Grid's diagnostics show a 12% chance of success—and that's optimistic."
Harold Jordan trembled at the room's edge, ring's aura pulsing brighter with his fear.
Grid—Harold's former AI companion, now fragmented code—flashed on the central display:
[Pattern Identified: Nexus targets symbols]
Ultraman growled. "Then we destroy the symbols!"
Owlman raised a hand. "No. We adapt. We withdraw, rebuild, then strike unpredictably."
Kal-Il's heat vision flared in anger, melting part of the console. "We do not retreat!"
Owlman's glare cut like a blade. "Even gods choose their moment."
October 9, 2037 – 00:03, The Hollow
Nexus stood before Superwoman's containment cell, violet light fracturing his silhouette. She glared through reinforced bars, eyes searching for cruelty that no longer fueled her.
"You think you've won," she rasped.
"This is only transformation," he replied.
She spat. "Owlman—Ultraman—Jordan—"
"Let them chase shadows," Nexus said. "Fear is their tool. Tomorrow, we'll show them terror has many faces."
Luthor joined him, Harleen at his side. "Resistance cells are forming across Metropolis. They call themselves Truthbearers."
Nexus's gaze drifted to Arthur Curry's hologram—Sea King's face calm but resolved. "Emma Pierce leads them," he noted.
Arthur inclined his head. "Her vision inspires hope. The people follow her."
Nexus turned back to the reactor's glow. "One myth remains—the symbol of fear that Jordan wields. Tomorrow, we sever that tether."
Katana sheathed her blade. Grundy cracked his knuckles. Harleen smiled—a rare softness in her clinical gaze. Luthor adjusted his coat. Arthur's water-distorted form shimmered.
Nexus closed his eyes. Violet halos formed at his feet. "At dawn, we end this."
And as Earth-3's cities flickered from darkness to gentle light, their final confrontation waited beyond the horizon—one that would shape a new myth of liberation, truth, and hope.
[A/N : Do you guy's prefer shorter chapters like this? OR the previous length??]
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
[A/N : WORD COUNT-1700]
Thanks for reading and following along so far!
Want to read ahead and support the story?
Join me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/c/Max_Striker
If you're enjoying the story, feel free to leave a ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ review — it really helps more than you know.
Dropping a comment 💬 and voting with a Power Stone 🟠 makes a huge difference — it directly supports the story and helps it reach more readers!
Thanks again for being part of this journey. One step at a time. 🚀