Ashborn stepped out of the TV station, the cool night breeze ruffling his coat slightly. He walked calmly, hands in his pockets, as if he hadn't just witnessed one of the most surreal nights of the year.
Before he could take another step, a red blur zipped into existence before him, The Flash. He scanned Ashborn up and down.
Ashborn didn't even blink. "They are inside."
The Flash stared at him in silence for a beat, then wordlessly dashed into the building.
Ashborn took another step when the air above him split with a sonic boom. Superman landed with a heavy thud, his eyes narrowing as he looked Ashborn over.
"What are you doing here?" Superman asked, voice firm.
Ashborn didn't even slow down as he walked past him toward the sleek black car parked nearby. "I was invited to a party," he replied flatly. "Turned out to be a lame one."
Superman floated after him, arms folded, frown deepening. "You knew about this?"
Ashborn glanced at him with a sideways smile. "All the Joker told me was to be here at 7:00 PM for a party. That's exactly what I did." He opened the car door and paused. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm heading back to Metropolis. Feel free to visit my office if you need anything."
Without another word, he stepped inside the car, closed the door, and it pulled away from the curb, leaving Superman standing there speechless.
Inside the building, heroes rushed to clean up the mess. But outside… the narrative had already changed.
The millions who had been trapped in the live broadcast, their minds caught in the power of Ace's gaze, had seen everything. They had watched as the Justice League scrambled to disable bombs that turned out to be nothing but distractions.
They had seen Batman brought to his knees by a stray bullet, from Harley Quinn, of all people, and then unceremoniously passed out.
But more importantly… they had seen Ashborn.
He had faced Ace without hesitation or fear. He had kept his calm, turned the Joker's game upside down, got his souvenir and left with the same calm swagger with which he arrived.
The public's verdict was swift.
It wasn't the Justice League who had saved them.
It was Ashborn Black.
And back in the car, as the neon lights of Vega's airport drew closer, Ashborn's phone buzzed.
A message from Rex lit up the screen.
"Your acquaintance was the JOKER of all people? How could you go to him on your own feet alone?!"
Ashborn sighed and let it slide for now.
Another buzz, this one from Amanda Waller.
"Did you know what the Joker was planning? Why didn't you stop Ace if you were immune to her?"
He shook his head with a small smirk. Not surprised by Director Waller, always authoritative and cares only about the objective.
More messages followed. From Gizmo, Mammoth, Billy, even Victor and Nora. Concerned, worried, and confused.
All of them were worried about him.
Ashborn leaned his head back against the seat and stared at the city lights passing by through the window.
This was the price he paid for keeping his powers hidden, for acting like he was just another clever/reckless man in a suit rather than the monster that lurked behind the smile.
They all cared. And because they cared, they are worried.
He couldn't be annoyed with them. It would be just a hypocrisy.
___________
In the Batcave, Superman, Martian Manhunter, Wonder Woman, and The Flash stood silently before the Batcomputer while Batman, seated in his chair, glowered at the floor like it had personally offended him.
He didn't want them there.
He never liked anyone in his cave. It was his space. But this time? This time he loathed their presence.
Bruce Wayne, the Batman, one of the founding pillars of the Justice League, the silent guardian of Gotham, the man who had stood shoulder to shoulder with gods and monsters had been reduced to a punchline.
Three times.
The first? A misfired gun. The second? A deflected bullet. And the third? Harley Quinn. Harley. Quinn. With a sleepy "Oops."
It wasn't even the pain that got to him. It was the broadcast. More than seventy million people witnessed it. Not on some obscure footage tucked away in a villain's lair. Live. Public. Immortalized.
He was the Batman. And he was humiliated three times.
He didn't say it, wouldn't say it out loud, but deep down… he suspected Ashborn had a hand in at least the first two. No proof. Just a nagging feeling. And the third?
He couldn't blame that one on Ashborn. Harley had pulled the trigger. But somehow, that made it worse. His teammates looked at him with concern, and that only made the humiliation worse.
Bruce's mind shifted back to the real issue, the one his pride was trying to avoid.
Ashborn.
Ashborn Black knew something. At the very least, he knew the Joker was planning something. Instead of alerting the League, or the police, or anyone, he just showed up. Alone. With a smile.
Superman was the first to speak, arms crossed. "The Joker has a grudge against Ashborn. He went out of his way to invite him. That… could happen again."
Bruce's eye twitched, though his face remained cold. Of course it could happen again.
Wonder Woman stepped forward, voice stern. "Ashborn Black's actions were irresponsible and reckless. He should be punished. By the laws of man, he's an accomplice. He withheld vital information."
The Flash raised a hand. "Hold on. He didn't know what was going on, or the scale of it. He was just invited to a place at a given time and showed up. That's not a crime."
A pause. Then he added with a thoughtful tilt of the head, "And I don't think this'll happen again. He was there for the dagger. He was clearly disappointed by the Joker's normal knife."
A moment of silence followed. That was… the thing that troubled them the most. Ashborn was disappointed by a mass-murdering maniac's knife, not the madman's show that was going on. Even Bruce paused, recalling the stupid reason Ashborn went there in the first place.
He leaned forward, shadows creeping across his face as he stared at the Batcomputer. "What concerns me is how he avoided Ace's power."
Everyone's focus was on him.
Bruce continued, "Everyone was affected. Even you, Clark. The Joker, for all his insanity, nearly went into a vegetative state. If not for John…"
Martian Manhunter gave a slow nod of confirmation.
Bruce stood. "We need to pay Ashborn a visit. Find out what he's hiding."
Superman frowned slightly. "Bruce… we can't just interrogate someone for not being affected by something we don't understand. He's never done anything wrong. He's helped, even if he's… unconventional."
"I agree," Flash said, arms crossed. "It could just be another magical artifact he's using. I mean, he clearly enjoys collecting weird stuff."
Wonder Woman folded her arms, eyes narrowing. "But Bruce has a point. We don't know what he's hiding. What if it's something dangerous? And it could also help countering Ace when we find her"
The heroes were clearly divided on what to do with Ashborn, but before they could continue, the soft but deliberate sound of approaching footsteps echoed down the staircase. All heads turned as Alfred Pennyworth, the ever-composed butler of Wayne Manor, walked down the stairs with a small package in his hands.
He gave a slight nod to the gathered heroes. "Apologies for the interruption, but I thought Master Bruce might want to see this immediately."
Bruce arched a brow. "What is it?"
"A package, sir. Delivered just now. From Mr Ashborn Black."
Those three words froze the room.
All at once, Superman's gaze sharpened, Wonder Woman turned to face Alfred fully, and Flash tilted his head with barely restrained curiosity. Bruce's eyes narrowed as he looked to Clark.
"What's inside?" he asked quietly.
Clark peered through the packaging with his X-ray vision… and frowned. "A metal box. And a letter in an envelope. I can't see the box content."
That made everyone raise their guard.
Flash's grin crept across his face. "If you're worried about the contents, I can open it. I move faster than anything in there, just in case it's a trick."
Bruce remained still, calculating, analyzing. Then, after a pause, he nodded. "Be careful."
Alfred approached and handed the package to Flash, who zipped a few feet away from the group. In a blink, the envelope was open, and he cleared his throat theatrically.
"Alright, let's see…"
His voice echoed in the silence as he read:
Dear Bruce,
It is lamentable that you keep experiencing groin-related accidents in my presence, and it is quite concerning for the Wayne family future if this continues.
I would have suggested you take a break to breed an heir or head to some sperm bank to have a backup plan, but I doubt you would do either of those of your free will.
So I made a prototype for the second-best solution I can offer to keep your biological tool intact.
It is made by the best material engineers to ensure optimal protection while keeping you comfortable and without limiting your mobility.
Regards,
Ashborn Black
The Batcave was dead silent for a heartbeat, then Flash opened the box.
He gasped.
His hands trembled as he pulled the item from inside, desperately biting his lip to contain a laugh. The object gleamed under the Batcave lights, catching the attention of everyone present.
It was a metallic pair of underwear, crafted like advanced armor, sleek and oddly flexible, but undeniably shaped like a pair of pants with a ridiculous-looking bulge in the front. Something between a medieval codpiece and futuristic exo-armor.
Flash turned it in his hands, then slowly pulled the sides apart. The whole thing expanded elastically, stretching and snapping back into shape.
He choked back a laugh. "It… it feels like elastic metal. I think it might actually be wearable."
Superman raised an eyebrow. Wonder Woman blinked once. Martian Manhunter said nothing but looked mildly impressed.
And Bruce… Bruce's face darkened like a brewing storm.
His voice, low and cold, cut through the awkward stillness. "I am paying Ashborn a visit."
Superman didn't argue. Flash, still shaking with silent laughter, gave a thumbs up.
No one said another word.
Ashborn had angered Batman.