Chapter 121: Red Death! God Of Injustice!
The supercomputer screen in the Batcave flashed with blinding red light.
Alarm sounds rose and fell one after another.
Echoing like a death knell between the steel walls.
“What happened?”
Bruce rushed to the display screen, receiving slightly delayed information due to angel influence—Metropolis’s sky was shrouded in a green energy storm.
The extremely terrifying Doomsday.
After many years.
It once again entered his view. Doomsday’s eyes surged with energy tearing the sky apart, the ground collapsed, buildings shattered, as if the entire city was being swallowed by the wrath of some ancient god.
Ordinary satellites had long failed.
So now Bruce was using an extraordinary technology satellite.
Perhaps in terms of invention and creation, Bruce was only at an ordinary level among the top on Earth, but taking advantage of the Justice League’s free checkup benefits, he had also requisitioned some Apokolips technology from Cyborg.
This was Bruce truly treating money as his superpower—he not only had extraordinary intellect himself, but he also tricked, deceived, and abducted, with many very smart scientists backed behind him.
With the body of a rich man, collecting and gathering across the entire Earth, and by the way, crowdfunding from teammates, he could naturally easily rival deities. If Tony Stark had craftsman spirit, then Bruce Wayne absolutely belonged to true leader thinking. He possessed a brain with even greater resource integration talent than Tony Stark.
“Roar~”
In the image.
Doomsday was roaring.
Or rather, roaring in pain.
“Here we go again?”
Bruce was just startled.
There was no panic at all.
The strongest emotion in his heart was actually confusion— he had only been offline for a short while, so how did the Justice League teammates all turn into headless flies?
One by one hovering in mid-air, looking like they were waiting to be wiped out, on the ground, there was only one weird thing from the Kent Family Home, hugging Doomsday and performing confusing behavior.
That mouth.
Across the screen.
Bruce felt like it was going to suck onto his face.
Regarding this, Bruce found it hard to evaluate, but Ian’s existence did make him feel a little more at ease—if Ian was truly the existence worth God using【transaction】 this word, then this boy must be hiding unimaginable secrets, and the cosmic favor he possessed was definitely not low.
Inevitably far surpassing himself, Superman, and even the entire Justice League.
“I see two Doomsdays, they’re grinding each other in Metropolis, exploiting a universe BUG…” Bruce could remotely monitor and analyze the changes happening on Doomsday and Ian. It was precisely because he fully understood the situation on site that Bruce quickly regained his calm and composed thinking.
This also allowed him to see the essence through the phenomenon.
They were all undead freaks, all able to gain unscientific power time and again in battle, so how was Superman Clark not raising a mini Doomsday at home?
“And the other two little ghosts in the Kent family are also ridiculously strong, Clark might be enthusiastic about this, my danger assessment of Superman seems to need adjusting upward.”
“His brain might be normal, but his educational concepts are clearly very twisted.” Bruce muttered softly, turning toward the armory, his black cape drawing a sharp arc behind him.
Support must be provided.
After all, Batman wouldn’t pin his hopes on a mentally ill kid.
Even if he came from Heaven.
He turned toward the armory, steps firm as always.
“Click~”
The anti-Superman armor’s locking mechanism disengaged, quietly awaiting its master to truly beat Superman with it once, the pitch-black metal shell gleaming with a blue hue under cold light.
The built-in system had completed final calibration.
“Nanotech strength is still insufficient, I need to find a way to make that kid cough up the technology, can’t resist showing off in front of me.” Even at this moment, Bruce didn’t forget to scheme.
He didn’t hesitate.
Activating the armor’s donning procedure, the anti-Superman armor automatically enveloped his body, joints emitting slight compression sounds, every armor plate fitting seamlessly to his muscle contours.
“Click~”
Bruce’s armor began operating.
However.
The power boost and enhancements it brought, along with the targeted designs on it, were quite good despite everything, but “quite good” also meant not good enough.
Ultimately not the perfect conception in Bruce’s mind.
It was like having to make do with a cow madam.
“I will complete you.”
Bruce had his own “goddess” in mind, his gaze falling on an unfinished product in the corner—calling it unfinished was generous; it was really just a hanger and some raw materials.
The only complete part was probably the design plan.
“Superman isn’t strong enough yet, and I don’t have enough money…” Bruce used Ian’s money-making plan for a reason; Gotham couldn’t sustain the doomsday contingency plan in his heart.
Money could really count as a superpower.
At least for Bruce, it was.
In the DC universe, Batman’s funds could be fully converted into real combat power. For that reason, the ultimate armor he envisioned in his mind would require 60% of the total global military spending, which would give Bruce truly powerful combat capability to handle all crises, at least all past crises.
Enough to handle doomsday.
To counter the entire Justice League. Of course, forging this armor would also require the assistance of the entire Justice League, but for Bruce, this wasn’t a big problem.
After all.
Bruce knew very well that he didn’t even need to deceive his teammates; he just needed to say we need to do this, and the other Justice League members would provide help.
Even if the members knew this armor might be used against them— this was the true bond among Justice League members, more noble than the bond Ian shouted about. This was the most unique trust relationship in the DC universe, not because Bruce was trustworthy, but because he was Batman.
As long as there was enough money, Bruce believed he could achieve his goal. The only problem was that his teammates’ strengthening speed hadn’t kept up with his thinking and blueprints.
Especially Superman.
The armor forging needed to be done inside a star like the sun.
Clearly Clark didn’t have that capability. Of course, analyzing the current situation, Bruce knew he might soon wait for Clark to have that strength, but he actually didn’t think it was a good thing; the unconventional strengthening speed of Superman must have more worrying reasons behind it.
Yes.
There must be a reason.
Although the reason was still unknown, it didn’t prevent Batman from already starting to worry.
“Perhaps the answer is on the three Supermen who just appeared in Metropolis…” Bruce’s equipment could clearly distinguish between clones and isotopes.
While retrieving gear, he rapidly thought in his mind. Multitasking was basic for Batman; he deftly stuffed a bunch of equipment into the Batmobile.
Kryptonite spear, anti-Speed Force field generator, Amazon binding chains… these couldn’t be forgotten either; Bruce had suffered enough from teammates being mind controlled.
His growing persecution delusion might stem from past experiences. Thinking about it, he loaded backup plans onto several stealth drones and underground drills.
Of course.
There were also a few places even he didn’t know about, places no one could tell, with spare supplies already prepared—this wave was Bruce guarding against even himself.
He understood very well.
Some things, even if only he knew, didn’t mean they couldn’t be spied on. The best way was not knowing even himself, so he could always pull out unexpected backup plans.
Everything sorted.
Bruce was finally ready to depart.
Actually, his actions were very fast.
Prep time controlled within minutes. During this, Bruce kept monitoring via satellite, staring at the figure rolling on the ground hugging Doomsday.
His expression grew increasingly calm.
After all, Superman clearly wasn’t anxious; what right did he have to be? Anyway, things were still controlled in the outskirts for now, no employees in Luthor’s factory.
Bruce, who had fought Doomsday once in the past years, wasn’t too shocked by it; he knew how to deal with such a creature.
Looking left and right.
Bruce even had time to load a machine onto the car; he tricked The Flash saying he was coming back to build a dream invasion machine, but he’d actually built it long ago.
Built it years ago.
Don’t ask why he built it.
Ask and it’s just in case.
See.
It was time to use it; Bruce proved again he had foresight, not mental illness. He drove the Batmobile straight out from underground.
Not the side door.
But the main door.
Because right outside Wayne Manor gate stood a pacing visitor—red and blue uniform, cape fluttering in the wind, and that face full of helplessness.
He was Superman Clark.
“What do you mean by filling the Batcave entrance with kryptonite?” Clark felt Bruce’s operation suspiciously like retaliation for his last illegal entry.
Facts proved Clark wasn’t wrong.
“Exactly what you think.”
Batman didn’t stop, just rolled down the window, afraid Superman wouldn’t hear— this Batmobile had truly special soundproofing.
Different from Jordan’s discounted soundproof mats.
Bruce only used high-end goods.
Very targeted high-end goods at that.
“…”
Superman flew alongside the Batmobile, turning to stare at Bruce inside, “I know you have a lot of kryptonite, but isn’t this a bit too much?”
Clark felt he had underestimated Bruce.
God knows what he encountered at the gate when he tried to break in earlier.
“That’s all of it.”
Bruce spoke without flushing or panting, showing the face of a qualified capitalist. Superman Clark naturally wouldn’t believe a single punctuation mark of his words.
“I think you’ve got the situation; I’ll wait for you in Metropolis… Right, that Doomsday’s situation is completely opposite to mine; you should have strategies for it?”
Superman prepared to leave.
He still couldn’t help reminding Bruce.
This was clearly superfluous.
Because Batman didn’t even twitch his mouth, the Batmobile kept speeding, clearly he had prepared in the car for such situations.
Gotham’s master wasn’t an ordinary mental case after all.
“Your youngest son can only hold that monster; he’s like an unkillable mosquito, does damage but not high damage, can’t solve monsters far stronger than him.”
“You should go help him.”
Bruce used a vivid metaphor to shoo him away; he saw many of Gotham’s nighttime “citizens” abandon daily life upon spotting Superman.
Knives, guns, cannons, tanks and such all discarded, running fast, making this local superhero feel slightly annoyed.
Though they ran when seeing him too, today no one dared yell【abs man】 at him, nor ask if Joker was home minding kids lately.
This was clearly Superman’s deterrence.
Bruce got quiet, but still felt a tiny bit offended; seeing helpless Superman fly away, Bruce noted those fleeing “ordinary citizens.”
“Talk to these guys properly tomorrow.” The Batmobile sped at the Gotham-Metropolis border, engine roar tearing the night’s silence.
Bruce Wayne’s gaze locked ahead, the green storm in Metropolis sky growing larger in view, plus helicopter sounds trying to scout then crashing.
Superman timely saved the black man inside, but couldn’t save Black Hawk helicopter’s yet another crash. Just as Bruce braced and calibrated his weapons.
Suddenly, air twisted violently, a blurry yet ultra-fast figure burst from void, with Speed Force’s terrifying speed, slamming into the Batmobile!
“Boom!!!”
Crimson lightning crashed from the side, steel-on-steel impact nearly drowning all noise, Batmobile instantly out of control, rolling into an abandoned building.
Rebar and concrete collapsed on impact, dust everywhere. Glass shattered, building collapsed; luckily Batmobile materials were solid, no major damage.
Only a dent at the impact spot.
Dust not yet settled.
The suddenly appeared figure already stood before the collapsed building. This guy wore red metal uniform covering whole body, mask revealing only eyes burning with Speed Force.
He stood quietly in the ruins, as if waiting for something.
“Damn it!”
Inside the vehicle.
Bruce had tensed all muscles an instant before impact, vehicle safety system activating fast, nanomaterial buffers slowing his already armored body.
However.
Even with double protection, the huge impact still blacked his vision, imaginable why his vehicle demolished a whole building in that instant.
“Parallel universe Flash? Or some other speedster mess?” He kicked open deformed car door, flipped out landing, tactical goggles scanning surroundings.
Footsteps approaching the building ruins.
“Zzz—”
Crimson arcs flickered in dust, a figure slowly emerged.
“Bruce Wayne.” The attacker fully wrapped in dark red battle suit, Speed Force energy coiling like flames, eyes under mask glowing cold white.
What concerned Bruce most was the huge bat on this person’s chest, exactly matching the pattern he inscribed on his gear.
“Don’t try to enter a story that doesn’t belong to you.”
Low, hoarse, like a voice from hell’s depths.
“Who are you? Why attack me?” Batman didn’t answer, instead asking straightforwardly, his right hand already sliding to his belt.
“Want to know who I am?”
“I’m the last crimson these sinners see before death, I am… the Red Death!” The man in iron armor had a very low voice too.
With electric tone.
“I created this armor, I created my own Speed Force, because of that, I’m also cursed by Speed Force, always one step slow even saving myself.”
“Such a fool, who do you think… I am?”
The red figure spoke mockingly.
If only Ian weren’t here, the wild paladin would surely recognize this figure—the Red Death, a genius like him who plagiarized his ideas across planes in a parallel universe.
“You don’t seem to want to kill me.” Batman was stalling, thinking if Superman wasn’t too vindictive, he should’ve heard the commotion by now.
Thinking so.
His thoughts seemed already seen through.
“Click~”
Red Death disassembled on himself, raising a small device.
No need for explanation, Batman understood; this thing probably shielded Superman’s senses or sight, some black tech.
“So, fight?”
Batman stared tightly at the figure ahead.
Calibrating his goggles.
“Fight.”
Opponent’s reply concise.
“Then you can start.”
Batman said in a low voice.
Red Death didn’t move.
“I’m waiting for you to press the third hidden compartment on your belt, where the speedster-targeted nerve toxin is, to use with your stasis bombs, right.”
Red Death stared at Batman.
As if seeing through Batman’s brain and mind.
Hearing this.
Batman’s pupils contracted sharply.
Not because seen through.
But he realized a terrifying problem.
“Who exactly are you!”
Batman threw a batarang, weird fluctuations on it twisting space, instantly at Red Death’s face.
“I said, I’m… the Grim Reaper!” Red Death caught the flying batarang mid-air, it exploded, but he penetrated the attached stasis field rushing at Batman.
Speed Force erupted.
His figure instantly blurred.
Like red lightning charging straight.
“Clack!”
A mini stasis field generator activated, space within 5-meter radius instantly froze, Red Death’s speed dropped sharply, clearly affected.
However.
Still very fast.
Facing Red Death’s red batarang assault, Batman sidestepped, flinging three explosive batarangs to block paths.
“Meaningless.”
Red Death sneered.
His figure vanished an instant before hit.
Escaping field influence again.
Reappearing behind Bruce, batarang sweeping at Bruce’s nape, colliding with armor protection, sparks exploding in air.
Seizing chance.
Batman counter-elbow strike, high-voltage current from arm bracer erupted.
“Bang!”
Red Death shaken back several steps.
His armor absorbed most damage.
“Armor pretty tough.”
Red Death surprised, shook wrist.
“You stole Star Labs tech.”
Batman steadied.
“And you stole Luthor’s steel tech.”
Red Death retorted.
Both activated new systems.
Batman’s goggles glowed blue—anti-Speed Force vision mode. Red Death’s suit showed bat emblem—Batman’s tactical prediction AI!
Close combat erupted again. Batman’s every move predicted, but each prediction cracked by new feints. Fists and feet clashing, armors unleashing new functions.
Red Death condensed red current whip in hand.
High-voltage electricity.
Not Speed Force.
He lashed fiercely at Batman’s chest.
But Batman didn’t dodge, arms snapping open, special metal bracers unfolding, surface coated high-density magnetic layer.
Whip hit, energy absorbed and converted, exploding into counter-arc!
“Boom~”
Red Death shaken back steps.
Body slightly numbed.
Surprise flashed in his eyes.
“Flashy.”
Red Death commented.
“A comic book’s idea, useful right?” Batman calmly replied, then leaped, jet thrusters activating, closing on Red Death mid-air, throwing three sonic resonance batarangs—each different frequency, forming interference net.
They could disrupt thinking.
Speedsters too.
Red Death’s movements clearly stiffened.
However.
He didn’t need to think now, having calculated trajectories; he shifted fast, dodging first two easily, but third made his eyes narrow.
“Wrong.”
Red Death said lowly.
He suddenly realized this wasn’t real attack.
Real killer move: weak gravity field behind third batarang, briefly halting him 0.3 seconds.
In that 0.3s, Batman landed, activating pre-set ground traps, area filled with stasis force, hindering Red Death again.
“You prepped the terrain too?”
Red Death narrowed eyes.
“Of course.”
Batman tone unchanged.
“You think I only rely on gear?”
His question silenced Red Death momentarily.
“You know I can break this field, right?” Red Death unpanicked, armor helping breakthrough; meanwhile he watched Batman return to Batmobile.
“I know more than that; I know you know I know, so you still haven’t moved, proving you’re curious what I’ll do next.”
Batman pulled a potion.
Red Death stared at potion, eyes flickering.
“Superman serum? You even have this?”
His tone clearly surprised.
“Five minutes only.”
Batman injecting himself.
“Side effects must be bad.”
Red Death judged again.
He was right.
Batman didn’t deny.
“Looks like I want to win more than you.” Batman finished, sudden sprint lightning-fast; Red Death also broke free of stasis field.
Red Death charged head-on, clashing again, fists and feet adding, every collision turning ruins to dust; probing, correcting, countering like precise war machines, every move combining tech gear and testing opponent’s psyche and tactics to limits.
“You’re tougher than I imagined.”
Red Death’s voice calm as ever.
Batman no nonsense, back launching two micro-missiles, locking then firing, with stasis bombs, seeming to send opponent to afterlife firepower.
Of course.
As Batman predicted, Red Death not easy to kill; figure vanished again, missiles hit empty, blast flipping debris. Next second, Bruce’s tactical goggles alarms blared—Red Death emerged behind Bruce at attack instant.
Locked Red Death was time remnant.
“Old trick, never outdated.”
Ambushing Red Death rapidly disarmed Batman’s gadgets, then raised hand, smashing at Batman’s face in reaction window.
“Bang—!”
Batman crossed arms blocking, but huge force sent him flying, crashing through over ten buildings before stopping. Amid collapsing buildings, Batman coughed old blood.
He crashed through walls, rolling onto basketball court—Red Death already waiting, foot stomping Batman’s chest.
“It’s over; you have three unused weapon bays, but meaningless—you always prep one step more, but this time I prepped earlier.” Red Death’s metal battle boot ground on Batman’s chest plate; even anti-Superman suit cracking.
“I have Superman serum too, and I’m less afraid of death than you.” Red Death’s voice still very calm, boot adding force, Batman’s breather alarming.
“Because you’re about to die?”
Bruce saw Speed Force arcs leaking from Red Death’s suit seams—not ordinary lightning, but blood-mixed dark red energy, like scabbed wound color.
“Fighting outer universe invasion is like this; slight carelessness and you’re hit.” Red Death didn’t hide, still stepping on Batman’s chest, removing hidden belt.
This red grim reaper’s heavy force choked Bruce. Armor withstood huge impacts, but now powerless against Speed Force electrotherapy.
Should’ve worn two, no three layers.
Bruce regretted deeply.
Annoyed at own carelessness.
He tried struggling.
But opponent’s drug way stronger.
Hard to resist.
“Such a pity, you’re clearly not as strong as me, but I lack your luck… People like us, arrogant once, stay arrogant.”
Red Death spoke down to Batman, voice low clear, each word freezing in air. Masked voice with electronic noise, but familiar tone undeniable.
Low.
Hoarse.
Pure Gotham bubble sound.
“If I were lucky enough, the one stepped on now should be you.” Batman tried analyzing words’ meaning; then Red Death raised arm.
“What are you doing?”
Batman voice steady enough.
Fingers groping shadows beside.
Red Death didn’t answer immediately, slowly rotating hand as if thinking deciding; next, blood-glowing curved blade popped from wrist.
“Clang~”
Red blade flowing Speed Force-like energy, thicker like coagulated blood, as if many died under this weapon.
“Your opponent isn’t me, but I’ll give you a gift…” He said, eyes complex glow, curved blade vibrating rapidly.
Batman eyes flickered slightly.
No begging, tried extracting info, anti-Speed Force bomb appearing silently. After all, even he didn’t know how many bombs he had.
This trick worked well. Red Death noticed but didn’t stop, just faint smile, deep gaze at man underfoot.
“Batman always wins, right?” Before words finished, Red Death raised curved blade, dark red trail under moonlight.
He stabbed at Batman first, but clearly feint; after hitting bomb-holding hand, flicked anti-Speed Force bomb away.
Then.
Under Bruce’s shrinking pupils, red grim reaper raised blade again, slashing own neck, severing own head.
“This is the gift from me, the loser.”
In big advantage.
Self-proclaimed dying Red Death chose suicide!
Blood sprayed.
Splashed Batman full face.
Blood on batmask, Bruce realized not tactic. Dark red liquid trickled down goggles, red body crashed to ground.
Bruce expression unchanged.
He hesitated one second, then flipped up fast, running to distant rolling head, slapping small metal ball on self en route.
Then.
Armor rapidly self-repaired via nanobots.
“Red Death…”
Bruce stepped on rolling head, crouched, carefully peeling mask. Batman’s eyes unmoved, but expression much graver.
“As expected, first three Supermen, now this is second… Bruce Wayne.” Batman’s pupils reflected an unsurprising face.
A face 99% like his appeared, brows exuding familiar cold madness. This face almost his own.
Just more weathered, more ferocious.
“Batman always wins?” Batman didn’t leave corpse on street; he packed Red Death’s body, even collected all sprayed blood.
Returning to still-running vehicle, Bruce pondered this phrase repeatedly in mind, sensing it vital info from another self.
As for why suicide was gift.
Batman had no time to think.
“Ah~!!”
He began suffering drug backlash.
Not everyone enjoys doping.
“Damn it!”
Batman fell into cockpit, slumping in seat, chest heaving violently. Superman serum effect fully gone, replaced by tearing pain—like every nerve burning, every muscle disintegrating. Teeth gritted, cold sweat beading, trembling fingers rummaging storage.
Finally grabbed【repair agent】 labeled bottle, opened, chose correct one from hundreds poisons, instrument-checked.
Then pain-shaking hand fed it to mouth.
Swallowed to stomach.
One minute later.
Pain slightly eased.
Gene collapse aftereffects temporarily suppressed.
Batman gasped heavily.
Just about to start Batmobile, felt something off—genes repairing, far beyond repair drug effect; permanent damage dissipating.
Not only that.
“I’m getting stronger…”
Batman quickly realized his change. Cells reorganizing, bones strengthening, already human-limit nerve reactions multiplying.
Like over ten selves’ powers stacking.
“Is this why other parallel universe Justice League invades ours?” Bruce no joy, huge shock; heartbeat stabilized.
Mind clearing.
IQ reclaiming high ground.
“That guy’s gift…” Batman suddenly looked at transparent sealed box corpse, as if realizing something, patted self hard.
Didn’t know till touched, discovery real; Batman’s some med compartment had extra small device.
That shielding device.
Or not just shielding.
Device had yellowed note stuck.
【My gift, potential of thirteen of us, can you defeat him?】 Note handwriting familiar—Bruce’s for text-backup important matters.
Staring at note.
Bruce frowned tight, unease surging. He didn’t know【him】 Red Death meant, but knew he was survivor this time.
However.
He might’ve lost thoroughly. That other Bruce in speedster armor calculated everything; current situation his ultimate goal.
In the end.
The Batman who prepped fully won.
“Batman always wins?”
He realized key info.
Behind this info.
Surely hid secret-revealing answer.
As Batman’s brain spun fast.
“Beep beep~”
Car instruments alarmed.
“Hm?”
Batman looked quick, brows furrowing again.
“Second Arthur appeared?”
See.
Satellite footage.
Waves summoned from river separating cities, flowing reverse onshore, forming physics-defying land tsunami; wave crest stood another blood-eyed Aquaman Arthur.
Heading to—Kent Family Home!
…
Air thick with dust rot smell, once warm home now rubble heap. Aquaman and Queen Mera clearly recovered well in fish tank.
However.
They didn’t look happy.
Both sat before damaged dining table.
No chairs.
Just pile mud to sit on.
“Ian said if you wake, feed you some of this to restore energy; he’s our gentlest younger brother.”
Jonathan Kent handed plates scavenged from ruins to two superheroes.
Filled with fish food.
Super expensive kind.
Aquaman and Queen Mera exchanged looks, expressions wonderfully complex, helpless not to be rude.
“This… is food?”
Queen Mera asked cautiously.
As if not quite sure.
“You’ll get used to it; Clark’s a liar too, always said work life separate; now we know why.” The Flash now lively. While speaking, glanced nearby boy gripping chainsaw fixated on him, gaze following wherever he went.
“Ian said you usually love this stuff?” Jonathan, home’s most normal child, had some doubt, but soon ashamed for doubting Ian.
“Occasionally, snack, not bad.” Arthur forced smile for amiability, grabbed handful into mouth, trying to look enjoying.
He was grateful.
Knew unseen nephew saved him and beautiful wife.
“Not tasty.”
Queen Mera tried, but blunt honest; seeing Arthur wild eye signals, knew husband sometimes people-pleasing.
“Forget it, want restroom; still one here?” Queen Mera spoke softly, hoping escape snack, husband finish feed post-toilet.
“Restroom should be back there.”
Jonathan stood to lead.
But then, distant street boomed.
All looked up; huge wave surged street end like tsunami to human world. On wave head, figure surfed, gripping golden trident.
“What’s this?” Queen Mera eyes wide, looking at figure then fish-food-eating Arthur, momentarily unsure which husband.
“Die! Bitch!” Otherworld Aquaman roared, trident hurled piercing Queen Mera’s chest, nailing her to ruins wall.
“Okay, not my husband.” Queen Mera coughed blood, hand up trying control otherworld Aquaman’s water, but couldn’t seize.
“No!!! How dare you!” This universe’s legit Arthur roared, ignoring shock of another self, charging enemy, punched flying back, embedded in wall with wife.
“Another bad guy!”
Jordan roared charging, instantly swept by wave, slammed ground. Otherworld Aquaman pinned Jordan’s head, Jordan struggled furious roars.
His red eyes lit.
Just.
Maybe anger insufficient.
So couldn’t break free, skyrocket.
“All die!”
Otherworld Aquaman eyes mad wrath.
At this critical moment.
Black shadow flew from house.
Otherworld Aquaman about to act, head smashed something; not hurting but seeing rolling statue felt humiliated.
“You use Eastern Mazu to attack me Western Aquaman? Die! Stupid ant!”
Otherworld Aquaman eyes resentment-filled.
Raised hand summoning trident.
Next ready to shoot distant Jonathan.
But lethal gold light instant, before he acted, chest agonized—strong hand pierced chest.
He turned shocked.
That was descending figure.
Holding another person.
“Why?”
Otherworld Aquaman incredulous at opponent, coughing sea-water-like blood, voice full confusion pain. Descending Superman no response; withdrawing arm surgical precise, face sculpted perfect but all warmth gone.
Then.
This Superman tossed held person at Jonathan, casual as trash.
“Dad?”
Jonathan and Jordan both stunned.
“Your dad wouldn’t grab my neck scruff then rudely toss me!”
Lois crawled up, reminding sons—green moonlight, silent Superman intimidating, whole body icy aura.
This Superman.
Had indifferent-to-all-things eyes.
Definitely not kindly old father.
“We’re teammates… in multiverse’s current elimination, strongest survivors time after time, true Supreme Alliance to unite!”
Fallen otherworld Aquaman still incredulous.
“Hm.”
Superman slowly landed before him, boot on Aquaman’s golden hair. Eyes no ripples, absolute cold calm.
“Splat~”
Aquaman’s head burst like watermelon.
Mysterious Superman stomped brain matter out.
“Now, you’re dead teammate.” Superman slowly lifted bloodied boot, cruel like Homelander who’d been one in Homelander-filled world for 500 years.
In air.
Atmosphere oppressively heavy.
[ps: Delayed today, counts as trash update, tomorrow make up monthly votes and comments together.]
