| ??? - November 16
Within a Reach science base, a tall, green-skinned alien in full-body armor—its segmented plates shifting between black, blue, and blue-green—strode through the halls with a permanent scowl.
He ignored the saluting guards and scrambling workers as he made his way to an isolated chamber deep within the facility. The high-ranking official swiped his hand across a hovering interface, and the sealed door slid open with a low hiss.
Hands clasped behind his back, he entered.
The room was dim, lit only by a flickering overhead light suspended above an operating table. Around it, a cluster of scientists worked in intense silence, their focus unbroken—until his voice cut through the air.
"Have you made any progress, Scientist?"
His tone was cold. Expectant.
The room stilled.
The Reach were conquerors—an empire that had spent millennia expanding across the universe. Over forty thousand years ago, their ambitions brought them into direct conflict with the Green Lantern Corps. The war ended in a stalemate, followed by a treaty: both sides would respect each other's territory, and the Reach would cease uninvited conquests.
Officially.
In practice, they adapted.
The Reach turned to subtler methods—deniable, patient, and devastating. They engineered biological weapons known as Scarabs, seeding them across worlds. These devices would lie dormant for centuries, activating only when a civilization reached a suitable level of technological advancement. Once awakened, a Scarab would bond with a host, rewriting them into an agent of the Reach.
Through this strategy, they had conquered over ten thousand worlds.
Earth had been seeded long ago. Recently, there had been signs of premature activation—but the signal had vanished, dismissed as a false flag.
Their plans for the planet remained in motion.
But for now, other problems demanded attention.
The scientist in question stepped forward—a blue-skinned alien clad in a crimson sleeveless tunic with sharp, pointed shoulders. A rigid white collar framed her head and connected at the sternum, while a translucent yellow half-mask covered her mouth. A belt secured the outfit, a satchel resting against her upper thigh.
"No, Ambassador," she replied, her voice laced with fascination. "You should see their muscle tissue. It's like trying to cut through Nth metal."
As if on cue, twin laser emitters activated, firing concentrated beams onto the subject below. The light flared brightly—
—and did nothing.
On the table lay a dead Gordanite. One of the few they had managed to kill. Dark-skinned, hairless, and otherwise unremarkable among his kind.
Yet invaluable.
"The Psions have outdone themselves," the scientist continued, almost reverently. "Even in death, the body remains… active. The blood cells show no signs of deterioration. The only true indicator of death is the absence of brain activity. It's as if they're immortal."
She gestured toward the body as the lasers intensified, finally beginning to bite into the flesh.
"This is the result of the human meta-gene, refined and perfected. We should accelerate our plans to conquer Earth."
The Ambassador's expression hardened.
"You are overstepping your authority, Scientist. The Citadel is pressing us on multiple fronts, the Kroloteans are faltering in their obligations, and the Lanterns are watching for any sign of weakness. We do not have the luxury of advancing on Earth."
His voice sharpened.
"I asked you to determine whether the subject could be cloned—or controlled."
The scientist immediately bowed her head. "Apologies, sir."
Then, slowly, a smile spread across her face as the lasers intensified once more, their hum rising into a sharp, piercing whine as they carved deeper into the corpse.
"Cloning is not viable," she admitted. "However… we can attach a Scarab and assume control."
Her eyes gleamed.
"When we're finished, he will be… godlike."
The Ambassador gave a single, satisfied nod.
"Good. I trust the Czar will appreciate our gift."
**
| Metropolis - November 16
In his office, Joseph finished drawing. On his desk was his new Nova suit, redesigned to separate him from Doctor Fate.
Joseph's body was now basically organic Nth metal—he was essentially a synthezoid. And with Captain Atom's help, his depleted nanites, once used to reforge his dead body, were now promethium alloyed as well as infused with Lobo's tough hook and chain. Those turned out to contain titanium, vanadium, and other metals, making the result a near-invulnerable material.
Promethium by itself was already the strongest metal in the universe.
But after integrating it, Nova had found that it was also capable of channeling, amplifying, and perpetuating near-limitless amounts of energy. However, the state required for that made it volatile—it was a dangerous mutagen that could be used to alter living beings or trigger their metagene.
Harmless for Joseph, who already had his metagene activated by the Psions—but potentially dangerous for those around him. So Nova reverted it back to depleted promethium. He didn't need the extra energy with his built-in connection to the Source.
The new suit moved away from his old bright yellow-gold, favoring a champagne gold for the armor plating set against a deep charcoal bodysuit.
His Spartan helmet had changed to something sleeker and more metallic, featuring a red eight-pointed star—an emblem that had once been gold on the torso of his old Nova suit—now placed on the forehead. The eye slits were white and glowed with a bright, electric blue energy when he used his Nova Force.
The torso featured three glowing circular ports—two on the pectoral area and one smaller one at the solar plexus. These acted as energy regulators, managing the Nova Force channeled through his body in case he ever pushed too much power through himself.
The darker sections of the suit had a textured, reinforced fabric appearance, with visible paneling and seams that emphasized his muscular build. Not everyone needed to see the full shape and definition of every individual muscle. Only Kori was afforded that privilege.
The gauntlets and greaves featured sharp, fin-like protrusions that contributed to its aggressive, human rocket aesthetic—emphasizing its purpose for high-speed travel while making him look more intimidating.
In essence, he'd just copied and updated the Nova suit from the discontinued Nova comics from Marvel. But it was all fine since he'd bought Marvel and owned the rights to the name. He wasn't going to sue himself.
Joseph turned to Waylon.
"Are they still going at it?" he asked Croc.
"Yup."
There was a large crowd protesting outside the LuthorCorp building, shouting all sorts of things.
"What are they saying now?"
"We don't trust you," "You killed Superman," "Get out of our city and go back to Gotham," "You hang out with Killer Croc so you have to be a criminal," "You're releasing an army of androids—have you never watched The Terminator?" "We still don't trust you." Waylon listed. "And it's not just down there—a lot of hate came out of nowhere online as well."
"Wow, that almost hurt my feelings," Joseph said.
"Are you really going to let them continue?" Croc asked. "If you want, I can make them go away."
"Why stop them and give them what they want through intimidation? It's not like their little protests will do anything."
'Nova, is the hate organic?' Joseph asked mentally.
//Upwards of 80% of the hate directed at you and LuthorCorp is manufactured by bots and paid agitators. Should I terminate them?//
'Wow, that sounded ominous. Just have the media companies we own refute whatever accusations they're making.'
Joseph knew exactly which group of people were unhappy with the good he was doing—and with the growth of LuthorCorp and BellCoin, which was robbing them of control of not just United States but the entire world.
They had even tried inviting him to some of their islands, but Joseph refused.
The Court of Owls would eventually get to them, but it was better to expedite the process.
'Send a call to the Blacksmith. Have her Network pay a visit to Israel. And also contact Amanda Waller as Bullseye.'
Suddenly, the ground faintly vibrated.
'Nova.'
//Toyman is rampaging downtown in a giant mech.//
'How'd he get a mech downtown? Whatever—this is the perfect opportunity to debut my new suit.'
Joseph stood up from his desk.
"I'm going to the bathroom," he told Waylon, ignoring the suspicious look he gave him—as if he knew something, but couldn't prove it.
**
| Keystone City - November 16
In an underground base, Amunet Black—better known as the Blacksmith—looked at the message she had received on her computer.
The Network, an underground black market and crime organization, had grown significantly since she joined Bullseye and began following the mysterious Worldmind's orders.
Many gangs had joined the Network, and several other crime organizations had partnered with her—like Harvey Dent of Gotham, who used her services to eliminate any mercenaries sent after him.
Society was always going to have rot, so someone might as well control it. She was that person now—and she could profit from it too.
She called forth the villains under her command for this new mission.
Mirror Master, Murmur, Girder, and Plunder had been killed by Bullseye during his first visit. Weather Wizard had lost his Weather Wand, forcing him into a background role.
So that only left Magenta from her original batch.
But she had new villains under her command now—mostly former members of the Flash's Rogues Gallery who could no longer operate in Central or Keystone City due to Flash and Kid Flash becoming much faster over the past few months.
Onomatopoeia, Constantine Drakon, Clock King, Captain Boomerang, Doctor Alchemy, Golden Glider, Rainbow Raider, Tarpit, and the first Trickster, James Jesse.
The second Trickster had gotten all swole and was hanging out with Zoom—or Reverse Flash, or whatever that maniac called himself.
Every time Zoom appeared, it was only to cause wanton suffering and destruction—just to enrage the Flashes, with little to no profit involved.
Blacksmith shook her head. Messing with heroes was just bad for business.
The door opened, and they walked in.
"Got a mission for us?" Trickster asked.
"Indeed. An all-expenses-paid trip to Tel Aviv to party with some officials," Blacksmith said.
"Superheroes. My favorite," said Onomatopoeia, a serial killer whose preferred victims are non-powered superheroes.
"As always, Worldmind has a detailed plan with perfect timing, giving us all the information on our only obstacle—the 'superhero' team known as the Hayoth," Clock King said as he looked at the information displayed on the monitors in her office. He is a supervillain obsessed with time who used clock-related gadgetry to commit crimes so he greatly admired Worldmind's almost prophetic timing.
Seraph was their leader, and the team included Dybbuk, Golem, Judith, Pteradon, and Ramban.
"Are we doing an assassination or a show this time?" Captain Boomerang asked.
Blacksmith smirked.
"Be as loud as possible."