A sonic boom cracked the sky, loud enough to make a few Gotham pigeons file noise complaints. Superman burst through the clouds like a red-and-blue missile fired by a god with impeccable cheekbones. His cape billowed behind him like a crimson comet, and his smile—yes, he actually smiled—briefly made the city forget it was about to get squished by a kaiju-sized Atlantean war squid.
Right behind him came Wonder Woman, sword gleaming, lasso coiled at her hip, flying like she had reservations for a battle and was not planning to be late. If grace and murder had a baby, it would look like her. As she landed, the ground didn't dare shake.
Then came Hal Jordan, Green Lantern of Sector 2814, wrapped in emerald light and confidence levels high enough to qualify as a power source. His ring was already scanning the massive Atlantean fleet.
"Let's see…" Hal muttered, eyes squinting. "Warships, trench beasts, really angry dolphins. Pretty standard Tuesday."
He made a glowing construct of a giant Nerf bat and grinned. "Just in case diplomacy fails."
The clouds rumbled again. A bolt of lightning split the sky. And in that exact, extremely dramatic moment, Shazam descended like a rockstar who'd just stagedived into the plot.
"SHAZAM!" he yelled—because of course he did—and lightning struck a beach umbrella that had done nothing wrong.
"Whoops!" Billy winced. "Sorry! I'll replace that! Probably."
Cyborg dropped next. Literally. With a THOOM that caused three seagulls to relocate to Metropolis. His HUD lit up with data, glyphs, and one very sarcastic pop-up from Beta 9, the League's AI, which had the voice of a queen and the sass of ten.
"Honey, tell me you did not just land on a boardwalk churro stand."
"It was abandoned!" Cyborg replied, holding up his hands. "And I regret nothing."
Then came Eidolon. No thunder. No fanfare. Just shadow coalescing into a man-shaped storm of menace and crimson energy. He landed silently, and yet somehow the air got colder. Even the war squid tilted its eye stalk like: Wait. Who is that guy?
Eidolon's armor gleamed black and red, with veins of pulsing light that moved like heartbeat and menace had made a pact. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. His presence said, You do not want this smoke.
And then, finally, came Flash.
Or more accurately: zoom—blur—pause.
Flash stood exactly five inches away from a hot dog cart now half-submerged in seawater. He stared solemnly at the floating mustard bottle.
"Oh man," Barry said. "You poor condiment. You deserved better."
He zipped to Cyborg's side. "So, uh, we fighting Poseidon Junior or just doing the whole intimidation stare-off thing?"
And then…the Batplane.
Nobody saw it arrive. Because of course they didn't. One second it was sky. Next second, judgment hovered above them.
It was matte black, it was mean, and it had all the chill of a tax audit. The ramp hissed open.
Batman stepped out, cape swirling like it had its own agent, white eyes glowing in the gloom. He didn't say a word. He didn't have to. Even the squid took a nervous ink-fart.
Flash leaned toward Cyborg. "Seriously. Where does he park that thing?"
Cyborg whispered, "Stealth hanger two blocks away. Also, it turns into a submarine. Don't ask."
At the shoreline, Ocean Master—aka Orm Marius, half-brother to Arthur Curry, general pain in the sea bass—stood at the head of the Atlantean army. Behind him surged a force of armored soldiers, giant sea beasts, and enough tridents to stock a Poseidon-themed rave.
Orm didn't flinch. Didn't blink. He just sneered like someone who thought he was the final boss.
Eidolon stepped forward. The air shimmered around him like it was reconsidering its molecules.
"Orm Marius," he said, voice smooth and lethal. "This doesn't need to end in blood."
Orm tilted his head. "You're right. It already has."
Superman floated to Eidolon's side, arms crossed. Iceberg-level calm. "We're sorry for your loss. But lashing out won't bring your father back."
"This isn't vengeance, Kryptonian." Orm raised his trident. "This is justice."
"Wow," Shazam whispered. "Somebody's been rehearsing."
Wonder Woman gave him a pointed look. "Shh."
Hal conjured a popcorn bucket. "Can we fight now, or do we need another monologue?"
Flash zipped around, then paused. "Is it weird that the giant squid is glaring at me? I feel judged."
Cyborg was still scanning. "Uh, guys? Hostile movement. Army's bristling like a sea-urchin with commitment issues."
Beta 9's voice purred. > "And unless you want to become sushi, I'd recommend doing something."
Batman stepped forward, voice like gravel and nightmares.
"You want to pick a fight with the surface?" he growled. "You'll have to go through all of us."
Lightning flashed. Thunder cracked.
Orm's smile could've cut stone. "Gladly."
The ocean surged.
And the war began.
—
The ocean didn't so much surge as body slam the docks. One second there was a calm-ish harbor, the next—it was like Poseidon sneezed. Water crashed over shipping containers. Boats flipped like rubber duckies in a hurricane. And from beneath the waves rose the army of Atlantis: all glinting armor, scaly mounts, and warlike expressions that screamed, We didn't come for a spa day.
Naturally, the Justice League sprang into action. Like, immediately. They didn't even wait to check if they were double-parked.
Superman was first, zipping between falling cranes and flailing dockworkers, scooping civilians out of the chaos like the world's most stressed-out babysitter with flight powers.
Midair, he cradled a teen girl in one arm and an elderly dockmaster in the other. His cape fluttered dramatically because of course it did.
"Everything's going to be okay," he said, voice deep, calm, and reassuring. Honestly, he could've convinced a volcano to chill out.
The girl pointed over his shoulder, wide-eyed. "Are you sure? Because that thing has, like, twelve tentacles and I think it just ate a yacht."
Superman turned to see a kraken-sized squid barreling toward a cruise liner.
He winced. "Ninety percent sure."
His eyes flared red.
Twin beams of heat slammed into the squid, searing it just enough to make it swerve. The creature shrieked and barely missed the ship. Passengers on board erupted into cheers.
Superman smiled, nodded, and flew the civilians to safety.
—
Flash was a blur of red lightning and sarcastic quips.
He skidded to a stop outside a seafood shack, picked up a screaming toddler mid-panic, then blinked onto a nearby rooftop like it was just another Tuesday.
"Hi!" he chirped. "You owe me a crab roll!"
He zipped off. And then zipped back.
"To clarify," he said to the toddler, who was now giggling and covered in mustard, "you owe me a new pair of running shoes too."
The toddler burped. Flash nodded, solemn. "Respect."
—
Cyborg had a lot going on. Like, a lot. Half his brain was occupied hacking into Gotham's power grid to reroute surge protection to the hospitals. The other half was busy blasting Atlantean drones out of the sky with sonic pulses.
"Beta-9," he snapped. "Status update?"
Beta-9, the League's AI with the voice of Beyoncé and the sass to match, replied like she was lounging on a throne.
"Sweetie, I'm already rerouting traffic, updating triage logs, and calculating non-lethal takedown vectors. But you've got three sea serpents eyeing Wayne Tower like it's a snack buffet. You might wanna handle that."
Cyborg sighed. "Of course it's Wayne Tower. Again."
"Tower's got that main character energy, baby."
—
Wonder Woman landed on the dock like a meteor wearing heels. The planks shattered beneath her boots.
A squad of Atlantean soldiers charged. She raised her bracelets and ping ping—trident blasts deflected.
One soldier jabbed. She ducked, sliced, and sent his spear spinning.
Her eyes narrowed on a massive crustacean-like war beast clawing its way onto the dock.
"Well," she said, adjusting her grip on her sword, "I always preferred crab legs."
She leapt, flipped midair, and drove her blade straight through the creature's head. It collapsed with a screech and a splash that soaked everything from here to the yacht club.
"You're welcome!" she shouted at a retreating yacht that was now bobbing on its side.
—
Green Lantern Hal Jordan hovered above the chaos, manifesting a glowing green turret that looked suspiciously like something out of Halo.
"Non-lethal stunners, people," he said. "Let's not add 'war crimes' to our resume today."
Shazam, currently in a mid-air wrestling match with a shark-headed soldier, shouted, "Could use a little help here!"
Hal rolled his eyes and summoned a giant emerald hand.
"Hold still!"
The hand flicked the shark-soldier across the harbor like an angry toddler punting a stuffed toy.
Shazam blinked. "Okay, that was awesome."
Hal smirked. "Told you. Subtlety's my middle name. Well—after Danger."
—
And then… there was Eidolon.
The Crimson Ghost. The guy Atlanteans whispered about like he was the punchline to a very violent bedtime story.
He moved like fire and shadow had a baby and taught it martial arts. His armor pulsed with crimson light. Every step left the air shimmering like it had heatstroke.
One soldier lunged with a spear.
Eidolon sidestepped like he'd been waiting for it since Tuesday.
The spear snapped in half. The soldier blinked.
Eidolon tapped two fingers to the man's neck and the guy dropped like a sack of wet laundry.
"Never fought a Savage Burn practitioner, have you?" he murmured.
Another came from behind.
Eidolon's cape flared out—crack!—and sent the attacker pinballing into a dumpster.
He walked forward, calm, centered, dangerous.
His path cleared like even the war wasn't sure it wanted a piece of him.
—
Batman was… well. Batman.
One minute he was diving into the bay to haul a kid from under a capsized boat. The next he was ziplining from a crane onto an Atlantean hovercraft, planting explosives with that grumpy precision that just screamed I hate everything.
Flash, zipping by, spotted him crouched on a crane arm like the world's most expensive gargoyle.
"Hey! You do realize this is your city, right?"
Batman didn't respond. Obviously.
Instead, he jumped. Landed on the manta-jet. Disabled it mid-flight. And then somersaulted to the dock like he'd rehearsed it in a Christopher Nolan montage.
"Showoff," Flash muttered.
—
At the center of it all: Ocean Master. Orm.
Riding a chariot pulled by glowing seahorses, his armor shimmered like forged moonlight. His trident pointed at the shore.
"Your resistance is noble," he shouted. "But this city will fall. Justice demands it."
Eidolon stepped forward.
"No, Orm," he said, voice calm as steel. "You demand it. You're hiding grief behind that crown like it's bulletproof."
Orm's jaw twitched. Just a little. Just enough.
"You know nothing of my pain."
Eidolon's eyes gleamed, brighter than the fires behind him. "I've lost whole worlds, Orm. And I'm still not throwing a tantrum with a trident."
He raised his hand.
Crimson energy rippled outward in a shimmering shockwave. And suddenly—the sea hesitated. Like even the ocean wasn't sure it wanted to keep fighting him.
Eidolon's voice dropped, just above a whisper.
"If you want war, Orm… then come earn it."
—
The air crackled. The water trembled. And Ocean Master's chariot hovered over the shattered remains of Pier 7 like some glorified seafood food truck of doom, complete with gold-plated rims, magical thrusters, and more drama than a high school prom.
Eidolon hovered opposite him, cloak flaring in the sea breeze, the silhouette of a crimson-helmed demigod with glowing fists and the kind of scowl you wear when someone interrupts your Netflix binge with an invasion.
Ocean Master—aka Orm, aka King of Crusty Attitudes—gripped his trident, ancient Atlantean runes pulsing with sea-magic and ego. He squinted at Eidolon like he was a bad Yelp review come to life.
"This is your last warning," Orm growled. His voice had the kind of gravitas usually reserved for opera villains and shampoo commercials.
Eidolon cocked his head. "You sure you want to do this? I'm giving you the chance to surrender with dignity. Or, you know, semi-dignity. Dignity-adjacent."
Orm's reply?
He chucked his trident like Zeus throwing a tantrum. A bolt of hydromagic split the sky.
Eidolon didn't flinch.
With a whip-crack of displaced air, he vanished—Apparated mid-flight—and reappeared behind Ocean Master's chariot. He reached out, grabbed the tail fin, and casually ripped it off like it was made of wet cardboard.
"Seriously? This thing wouldn't pass a TSA inspection," he muttered.
Ocean Master twisted, fired a blast of hydromagic from his gauntlet. It hit Eidolon square in the chest.
...And fizzled.
His cape shimmered, absorbing most of the force, the rest rolling off his armor like water off a duck that bench-pressed semis for fun.
Then came the counterpunch.
A haymaker that cracked Ocean Master's helmet like a soft-boiled egg and sent him flying into the remnants of a loading dock.
CRASH.
Splinters. Seawater. Coughing. Dignity loss: 97%.
"You hit like a surface dweller," Orm spat, picking himself up, hair soaked and ego bruised.
Eidolon touched down lightly in front of him. "Yeah? You hit like a wet sock."
Orm roared, conjured a wave-blade from raw seawater, and lunged.
Eidolon caught it mid-swing. Crushed it in his hand.
Sparkles.
Palm. Chest. BOOM. Orm went flying through a rusted cargo container like a very angry sardine in a can.
—
Elsewhere...
Wonder Woman lassoed a war shark mid-charge, twisted midair, and yeeted it like a spiked volleyball into a cluster of Atlantean juggernauts. Her eyes glowed with divine fire.
"Your cause is not just!" she shouted. "You fight for pride—not peace!"
Somewhere, Poseidon probably slow-clapped.
Cyborg stood in front of a medical tent, arm cannon humming with charged energy. A sound pulse blasted out, shorting out enemy comms, scrambling sonar, and sending three mech-crabs into seizure mode.
He grinned. "Sorry, I don't speak saltwater static."
Flash—aka Central City's caffeinated golden retriever—blurred through explosions, scooping up refugees and dodging laser-sharks.
"That's two kids, one grandma, and a cat! You guys owe me cookies. Big ones. Chocolate chip. No raisins!"
Green Lantern summoned a giant, glowing bulldozer with racing stripes and angry eyes.
"Let's pave some crab shells!" Hal Jordan shouted, plowing through a wave of mechanized sea-beasts.
He winked. "I'm not saying I'm amazing...but if I were saying it, now would be the time."
Superman floated above it all—cape billowing, eyes scanning for survivors, heat vision carving safe paths through the wreckage. Henry Cavill himself would've nodded in solemn approval.
One child looked up at him, wide-eyed. "Are you gonna punch the bad guys?"
He smiled gently. "Only if I have to."
He soared into the sky.
—
Back at the boss battle…
Eidolon stood over the wreckage of Ocean Master, crimson energy swirling in one hand.
"It's over, mate. Don't make me embarrass you further. Seriously, it's getting sad."
Ocean Master coughed, spat seawater...and smiled.
"I don't need to win, ghost. I just need to distract you."
From the shadows, dozens of cloaked soldiers emerged—stealth coral, eel-tech armor, glowing eyes. The kind of enemies that show up right before a hero says something snarky.
"Beta-9," Eidolon muttered. "We got party crashers."
Beta-9's voice purred in his ear, smooth and commanding. "Oh baby, you've got a whole block party."
They struck.
Tridents. Arc-sabers. Water whips. Cannons. One guy even had a harpoon gun shaped like a squid.
Eidolon sighed. "Alright. Let's dance."
A trident hit his back.
Nope.
Armor pulsed, sent the attacker flying.
Another jabbed his thigh—his greave lit up and blasted the guy across the bay.
Eidolon Apparated upward, appeared mid-air, and dropped like an angry star.
WHAM.
He slammed his fist into the ground. Crimson magic exploded outward in a dome of kinetic energy. Shockwaves flattened the entire battalion. Water recoiled. Concrete split. Half the dock became a crater.
Flash stumbled mid-run. "Yo! Who dropped the magical bass?!"
Cyborg winced. "That's gonna mess with the seismic sensors."
Green Lantern pointed. "Five bucks says the main dude ran like a soggy coward."
He was right.
As the dust cleared, Eidolon stood—armor cracked but healing, breathing heavy, still glowing with raw fury.
Orm? Nowhere to be seen.
Eidolon scanned the wreckage, spotted the trail of residual magic—a watery arcane signature slinking toward a hidden tunnel at the edge of the dock.
"Beta-9. Where's he going?"
Beyoncé's voice came through his comm, all velvet thunder. "He's heading for Site Delta, sugar. That's where they buried their failsafe protocol."
"What kind of failsafe?"
"The flood-a-continent, Atlantis-goes-full-scorched-earth kind."
Eidolon clenched his jaw. "Tell the League."
He stared down the tunnel like it owed him rent.
"This just got personal."
—
The Justice League regrouped on what used to be a loading dock and was now more of a crater with free Wi-Fi, thanks to Eidolon's latest magical haymaker. The air still sizzled with leftover arcane energy and the scent of scorched seaweed—and if that wasn't a metaphor for Atlantean diplomacy, nothing was.
Eidolon landed hard, a crimson shockwave puffing out from his boots like he was doing the world's angriest superhero stomp. The glow on his armor dimmed from murder-red to annoyed-burgundy. He casually flicked something blue and gooey off his shoulder.
"Site Delta," he announced grimly. "Mariana Trench. Orm's heading there."
Flash's jaw dropped like someone had unplugged his common sense. "Wait. As in the actual bottom-of-the-world trench? The 'James Cameron's favorite hangout spot' Mariana Trench?"
Cyborg swiped at his forearm screen, blueprints and angry red warnings dancing across the display. "Confirmed. Protocol: Poseidon's Mercy. Atlantean failsafe."
Batman emerged from the shadows like a moody ninja who paid rent in dramatic timing. His cape fluttered like it had feelings about the situation.
"Doesn't sound like mercy," he growled.
"It's not," Cyborg said, tapping through files. "It destabilizes oceanic tectonics. Think earthquakes, megatsunamis, and biblical-level flooding. Like Noah's Ark but with fewer unicorns and more screaming."
Green Lantern let out a low whistle. "Neat. So we're up against Aqua-Vader and his Doomsday Jacuzzi."
Wonder Woman wiped her lasso clean—war-shark goo, never fun—and coiled it with a snap. Her eyes glinted with fury. "Then we stop him. The world isn't ready for this war."
Before anyone could respond with a heroic speech or at least a decent one-liner, Beta-9's voice slipped into their comms like smooth jazz and danger.
"Sugar… hope y'all are sitting down."
Cyborg tensed. "Beta, what did you do?"
"Just a lil' tango with the Pentagon's firewalls. You know how I like to keep my fingers busy. Anyway… Trump just greenlit a nuke."
The silence hit like a slap.
Flash blinked rapidly. "Sorry—rewind. Did you say 'a nuke' like we're playing Call of Duty?"
"Multiple, darling," Beta cooed. "Destination: Gotham. Apparently someone told him the Atlantean threat's nesting here, and he decided the solution was nuclear regret."
Eidolon's armor sparked like it wanted to punch something. Preferably a sitting President. "He's bombing his own city?"
Beta sighed, voice dipped in sass and soul. "To be fair, it's Gotham. I've seen landfills with better Yelp reviews."
Batman didn't respond. His cape did all the talking, whipping around with purpose as he tapped into his comm.
"ETA?"
"Thirteen minutes, thirty-seven seconds. Tick tock, sugar."
Superman's eyes glowed blue with the kind of intensity that made small planets nervous. "I'll intercept the missiles."
Cyborg shook his head. "We don't even know how many. If it's more than one, we'll need a full team intercept. Coordinated strikes."
Hal Jordan's ring flared to life, green constructs snapping around him like origami made of ego. "Copy that. Supes, you take high altitude. I'll go orbital. I'll catch 'em with a catcher's mitt made of pure willpower and self-esteem."
Batman didn't even look up. "Already hacked NORAD."
No one was surprised.
Wonder Woman sheathed her sword with a satisfying schlick. "What about Site Delta?"
Eidolon stepped forward, the red glow around his hands making the shadows pull back like they owed him money. "I'll go. If Orm wants to drown the world, I'll be the one to remind him who taught Poseidon how to swim."
Flash nodded, bouncing slightly. "Classic Thursday. Heroic speeches. Impossibly bad odds. Wouldn't miss it."
Beta-9 cleared her digital throat. "One last thing. The nukes have a failsafe. Encrypted command chain. You either get the President to call it off—or break into the system manually. Good luck with that. The A.I. guarding it is meaner than a Dalek on tequila."
Cyborg cracked his knuckles. "Hack-a-palooza it is."
Batman's voice cut through the storm like lightning wrapped in gravel. "League, split up. Eidolon. Wonder Woman. Get to Site Delta. Superman, Lantern, Flash, Shazam—intercept those nukes. Cyborg, you're with me. Time to hijack the Pentagon."
Flash raised a hand. "Quick clarification—we're intercepting nukes and breaking into the most secure government facility on Earth?"
Hal shrugged. "We've done dumber."
Eidolon walked to the edge of the shattered dock, the sea stretched before him like a challenge. The wind caught his tattered cloak, crimson light shimmering across his armor like a heartbeat.
"I'm going to the bottom of the world with an Amazon to stop a genocidal maniac with a tsunami fetish… while the rest of you stop a nuke from turning my zip code into a glowing pothole."
He cracked his neck.
"Some days I really wish I chose retirement."
Then he vanished in a flash of red.
T-Minus 13 minutes. Nukes inbound. Atlantean apocalypse button primed.
The world was on the edge.
The Justice League?
They jumped.
—
The clock was ticking, and no one had time for any dramatic speeches. Well, maybe one dramatic speech. But that was for later, when the world wasn't on the verge of getting nuked. For now, it was all hands on deck.
Superman, Green Lantern, and Shazam were the first to take to the skies, each of them looking like a different kind of superhero action figure — you know, the ones you're pretty sure you'd break in a week but still end up playing with every day.
"Alright, folks, time to show these missiles who's boss," Superman said, his voice calm but with that little extra that made you feel like you were in good hands. If Superman could do this without breaking a sweat, he definitely wasn't sweating. "I'll take the first one."
His cape fluttered dramatically as he shot upward, his eyes focused on the missile coming straight for them. The thing was probably looking for a place to crash, but it didn't know that it had just met Superman.
Superman soared through the sky like a bullet shot from a gun, leaving nothing but a trail of light in his wake. He got to the missile faster than you could say "Kryptonite," grabbed it mid-air like a soccer player going for a goal, and tossed it into space. No big deal.
With a loud boom, the missile exploded harmlessly in the vacuum of space. "One down," Superman said, casual as if he'd just stopped by a local café for a latte. "Two to go."
Green Lantern, meanwhile, was over here turning his power ring into some sort of giant green fist. Hal Jordan, Green Lantern himself, was probably having the time of his life. This was the kind of power trip he lived for.
"Alright, big boy. My turn." Green Lantern grinned, twisting his ring. A massive green fist formed in the air, the emerald glow so bright it practically blinded the sun. He swung it around and slammed it into the incoming missile.
The missile didn't even know what hit it. It was like the world's worst game of dodgeball, except instead of being hit with a rubber ball, it was getting punched into oblivion.
"Catch me if you can," Hal muttered under his breath, as he sent the missile flying into the void of space. It exploded with a satisfying pop. "Two down."
And now we were all waiting for Shazam, who had decided that a little flair never hurt anybody. He was like the kid who couldn't wait to open his presents on Christmas morning.
"Alright, I'll take the last one." Shazam shouted from the sky, lightning crackling from his fingers like it was no big deal. "Let's make this fun!" He wasn't just throwing punches; he was making art.
With a flick of his fingers, Shazam closed his fists in the air, and the shockwave that followed was enough to rattle the clouds. The missile, probably thinking it could escape the wrath of the living embodiment of a god, tried to flee. Unfortunately for the missile, Shazam had other ideas.
"Here, missile, missile!" Shazam taunted, his voice far too cheerful considering the circumstances. "Who's your daddy now?" He closed his hands around the missile, crumpling it like a soda can.
He floated back down to Earth, dusting off his hands like he'd just done some light cleaning. "Well, that was easy," he said, grinning from ear to ear.
Meanwhile, Flash had been doing what Flash does best — running. It was like he was built for this. Like, really built for this. He was scanning the horizon for any potential fallout, ready to zap in and deal with it faster than you could blink.
"Alright, guys. All yours. If anything falls, I've got it covered." Flash had the confidence of someone who knew he could run circles around you. And he could. Literally.
On the ground, Batman and Cyborg were doing what they did best — being all stealthy and techy while everyone else handled the fireworks show in the sky.
Cyborg's fingers were dancing over his holographic screens, his eyes darting between the flashing data streams like a DJ spinning a set at 3 AM. "You know, this is kind of fun," Cyborg muttered. "Feels like I'm in one of those cyberpunk movies."
"Just stop the nukes, Cyborg," Batman growled, his voice as gravelly and intense as always. He was scanning the area with that look in his eyes like nothing would escape his notice.
Beta-9, their AI helper, piped up. If anyone could be both helpful and sassy at the same time, it was Beta-9. "Oh, sweetie, I'm getting cozy in here," Beta-9 purred over the comms, "And if you happen to find any personal files on the Pentagon's favorites—send them my way. I could use a little entertainment while we work."
"Focus," Batman snapped. But even he had to admit Beta-9's sass was kind of charming in an AI-gone-haywire kind of way.
Cyborg grinned. "So, about that whiskey…"
"Later," Batman grunted.
"Fine, fine," Beta-9 said, with a huff that was far too dramatic for a computer. "But you can't say I didn't warn you. This is gonna be a ride."
"Just stop the nukes," Cyborg repeated, while frantically typing into his screens.
Beta-9 did her thing, gliding through layers of security like a ghost in the machine. "Done and done," she said. "I've intercepted any alarms. You should be good to go. Now, if you don't mind, I'm hacking into some juicy files, and trust me, I'm finding all kinds of things I shouldn't."
Cyborg rolled his eyes. "Can't you ever take anything seriously?"
"Well, honey, this is serious business," Beta-9 retorted, "but a girl's gotta entertain herself."
Cyborg quickly moved to the backup codes. "You're right about one thing," he muttered as he cracked into the secondary triggers. "This is serious."
The seconds ticked by. Batman didn't flinch. He was ready for whatever came next.
Then, the ping.
"Got it," Cyborg called out triumphantly. "I've locked the system down. No more missiles. We're good."
Batman nodded once, his lips a thin line. "What about the backup?"
Cyborg's fingers hovered over the last set of codes. "We're still working on it."
Beta-9's voice came through again. "Don't worry, darling, I've got it handled. You'll be dancing in victory soon."
And while Superman, Green Lantern, and Shazam returned to Earth victorious, there was no time for celebration just yet. The nukes were gone, the missiles neutralized, and the Pentagon's systems were under control. But the real battle? That was still out there, deep in the ocean, with Orm and the fate of the world hanging in the balance.
"Mission accomplished," Superman said, landing back on Earth, his cape billowing like he'd just stepped out of a movie.
"Yeah, but the real fight's still to come," Batman replied, as his eyes stayed locked on the horizon.
And somewhere in the background, Beta-9 added, "If I were you, I'd definitely stock up on whiskey. Trust me, you'll need it."
—
Eidolon's armor pulsed like a heartbeat as he and Wonder Woman soared above the Pacific Ocean, leaving contrails of light and myth behind them. Below, the water glistened like a sea monster waiting to swallow them whole. His cloak flared dramatically, because of course it did—the guy didn't just fly, he made an entrance. Always.
Beside him, Wonder Woman flew like she belonged to the skies. Her lasso hung at her side, golden and smug, like it knew it was the best weapon in the room. Her eyes scanned the horizon with the calm of someone who'd faced gods and didn't flinch. She was all strength and grace and "don't even think about mansplaining hydrodynamics to me."
She glanced at Eidolon, her expression unreadable except for that one raised eyebrow. "So," she said, conversationally, like they weren't about to dive into a literal pit of oceanic nightmares. "No chance you'll tell me what's under the mask?"
Eidolon didn't answer immediately. He turned slightly, just enough so that the light from his helmet's slits gave her a wicked glint. "I could. But then you'd fall madly in love, and honestly, we don't have the time for a whole rom-com subplot right now."
Diana smirked. "You think highly of yourself."
"I think just accurately enough," he said, then added, "Also, my cheekbones are legally classified as weapons of mass distraction."
She let out a laugh, sharp and warm, like a bell tolling in the wind. "Maybe after we save the world, I'll test that theory."
"It's a date," he said.
Below them, the Mariana Trench loomed like a throat about to swallow the planet. As they descended, the water turned a deep, swallowing black, the kind that made you want to apologize to the sun for leaving it.
Wonder Woman didn't slow. She didn't blink. She just kept flying, straight into the pressure and cold. Eidolon respected the hell out of that. Still, as they dove, he waved his hand lazily, casting a bubble-head charm around her.
She blinked in surprise, then gave him a side-eye. "Chivalrous. I like it."
"Magic: making oxygen sexy since forever," he replied.
They plunged deeper, and then there was movement—fast, sleek, and way too coordinated to be a random school of tuna. Three figures broke from the shadows like sea gods rising for a cameo.
Eidolon braked mid-dive, spreading his arms, magic crackling at his fingertips. Wonder Woman's sword was already out, gleaming with divine fury.
"Friendly Atlantean patrol or murder squad?" Eidolon asked casually.
"Let's assume murder squad until proven otherwise," Diana replied.
The lead figure stopped a few meters away, raising his hands. He was tall, built like Poseidon's gym trainer, and carried a trident like he knew exactly what to do with it. "We're not your enemies," he called. "We're here to stop Orm."
"That so?" Eidolon said, not lowering his hands. "Got a name, Fishstick?"
"Arthur Curry," the man replied, not missing a beat. "This is Mera. And that's Vulko."
Mera gave them a nod, her hair moving like it had its own personality. Her eyes were sharp, calculating. The kind of look you'd expect from someone who could command the tides and had probably murdered a warlord before breakfast.
Vulko, older and dressed like he belonged in a sea-wizard council meeting, just gave Eidolon a look. The kind of look that said "I've lived through six coups and three apocalypses and I'm not in the mood."
Wonder Woman lowered her sword slightly. "Arthur Curry. I recognize you. You're the Aquaman, right? The guy who took down that illegal whaling fleet last month."
Arthur shrugged. "They started it."
Eidolon tilted his helmet. "Cool origin story, Aquabro. But how do I know you're not working with Orm?"
Arthur didn't flinch. "Because I hate that smug little crown-stealing maniac more than anyone. He wants to drown the surface world. We want to stop him. Simple as that."
There was a pause.
Eidolon finally let the glow fade from his armor. "Fine. But try anything fishy—pun intended—and I will turn this alliance around so fast your seaweed will curl."
Mera rolled her eyes. "Charming."
"That's what my dating profile says," Eidolon muttered.
Diana sheathed her sword. "We're wasting time. Let's go."
The five of them swam downward, slicing through the water like a strike team from a very weird crossover episode. The trench yawned below, and the pressure grew thicker, like the sea itself didn't want them down there.
"This is a bad place," Vulko said, his voice grim. "There are things here that predate Atlantis. Things even the gods forgot."
"Oh good," Eidolon muttered. "I was worried this would be easy."
As they swam, Eidolon drifted closer to Diana. Her silhouette cut clean through the water, powerful and regal.
"Hey," he said. "If we don't die horribly, want to grab a drink after this?"
She didn't even look at him. "If we do die horribly, I'll haunt you until you owe me that drink."
Eidolon grinned beneath his helmet. "Spicy. I like it."
And with that, they plunged deeper into the abyss, a goddess, a magician, a sea prince, a princess, and a wizard—the last hope before Poseidon's Mercy was unleashed.
---
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