The stream had no end.
Fifteen minutes had passed since Diana first wrapped the lasso around President Ross's chest. Fifteen minutes of rot being peeled away in front of a global audience.
Each new truth dug deeper. Each admission scraped bone.
Entire governments were already burning in theory. Markets plummeted. Protests swelled in major cities.
But inside the warehouse sized room, there was only the steady hum of exposed lights and the quiet, broken breathing of the man in the suit.
President Ross was slumped forward now, hands shaking in his lap, sweat soaking through the front of his collar. His lip bled—split by a failed attempt to silence himself with his own teeth.
It hadn't worked. The lasso didn't care for pain. Only truth.
Diana stood still, eyes unblinking. Her grip on the rope shifted subtly—tighter.
"Tell me," she said, her voice devoid of sympathy. "What were the initial plans for me when I first arrived in your world? And how did the Justice League factor into your… schemes?"
Ross's breath caught. Not from resistance. That was long gone. His head hung low, eyes fixed on nothing, voice hoarse.
"You were… naive. That was the assessment," he muttered. "Optimistic. Hopeful. Culturally underdeveloped in terms of modern deception. The plan was to gain your trust. Play into your ideals. Then slowly… position you as an asset."
He swallowed hard, and the sound of it echoed in the silence.
"The goal was long-term leverage. Not immediate. We hoped your people—your kind—might be convinced to align with us. Maybe even lend forces. There were talks… early-stage… of offering economic incentives to Themyscira. In exchange for military cooperation."
Diana didn't move. The glow of the lasso pulsed again.
"And the League?" she asked, her voice cold.
Ross flinched.
"They were used. Clean-up operations basically. Post-op reconstruction. PR control. After certain missions, we'd feed them just enough information to get involved… but not enough to see the full picture."
Her eyes narrowed. "Like what?"
"La Maz," he said immediately. "And the island incident. We engineered scenarios to make Arias Markovic look like he was to blame. Even though we felt it was the apokoliptians. We needed plausible chaos. Something global. Something that would justify internal expansion of defense contracts."
A pause. Then—
"We didn't destroy all of Apokolips' tech from the invasion. Some of it went missing after the war. We were tracking what we could… but some of it surfaced on the black market."
Diana's voice was flat. "Did your government buy weapons from Apokoliptians?"
"No," Ross said, his voice trembling now. "Not directly. There were brokers. Ghost suppliers. Not all were human. Some deals were conducted in deep web marketplaces… others through proxies. Shell companies with no discernible origin."
He inhaled shallowly.
"Our reasoning was… if another invasion ever came, or if Arias Markovic escalated further, we'd have our own options. We couldn't risk being dependent on the League alone. And if we needed to act internationally without United Nations approval… we would've had the means."
Silence.
Then the rope slackened.
Diana stepped back and yanked it free, the golden coil falling from Ross's chest like a snake shedding its skin. He remained hunched, too ashamed to meet the camera.
"You are a pathetic excuse for a leader," she said coldly. "You lie to your people not to protect them, but to preserve your power. Your legacy."
Ross didn't answer. Couldn't.
Diana turned toward the others—dozens of officials, aides, and executives still bound and seated. Some wore shock. Others had known all along.
"Today," Diana declared, "you will all lay forth your truths."
———
Mount Justice
The silence in the living area was unbearable.
The junior team sat scattered, but geared up—every one of them in full suit.
The feed hadn't cut. Not once. Every confession had been witnessed.
Artemis stood near the wall, arms crossed tightly, her breathing uneven. The moment the La Maz incident was mentioned—her composure snapped.
"These fucking monsters!" she screamed.
**WHAM**
Her fist slammed against the reinforced wall. The sound echoed sharply through the room. No one flinched. They were too far gone for flinching.
Robin stood with his arms crossed, cape drawn slightly forward, as if he could shield himself from what he was hearing. "This is fake," he muttered. "It has to be. There's no way the League didn't know. No way they were used like that."
No one answered him.
Because even saying "maybe" felt like betrayal.
Black Canary stood near the large screen, her arms at her sides. She looked like she wanted to say something. Anything. But what could she offer? Reassurance? That word was worthless now.
M'gann hovered beside Zatanna, her expression blank with disbelief. The idea that everything they'd fought for—everything they thought was right—had been orchestrated like some chess game made her sick.
Then the screen went static.
**BZZT—**
The fuzz broke into sharp lines, then darkened.
A new image formed.
Batman.
Face grim. Cowl shadowed. Eyes sharper than ever.
"It's true," he said.
His voice was flat. No trace of disbelief. Just confirmation. "At least… most of what I can verify."
Robin stepped closer to the screen. His cape swayed slightly behind him, boots scraping against the floor. His fists were clenched at his sides.
"You knew!?" His voice cracked—not out of fear, but something worse. Betrayal.
Batman didn't flinch. "Some of it," he replied. "But I had no proof."
Artemis moved next, arms stiff at her sides. Her jaw was clenched so tight it looked like it might crack.
"La Maz?" she asked.
"No," Batman answered. "But it would explain why Green Arrow started looking into it alone."
Her lips parted. A question began to form, but he cut her off.
"Ask questions later," he said. "Believe me, we all have them. Right now, we don't have the luxury of answers."
The screen flickered slightly as Batman adjusted his view. The dim glow of a terminal reflected against his cowl.
"I traced the stream's origin—or at least tried to. It's being rerouted through an anomalous burst relay network. Thousands—millions—of false nodal points, each acting as a miniature broadcast mirror. Some are satellites, others are low-orbit drones, ground-based servers, even personal devices."
He leaned slightly forward.
"Think of it like trying to find a single heartbeat in a stadium where everyone's clapping. The real source is in there somewhere… but the noise is deafening."
Robin stared, processing. "So it's just… impossible?"
"No," Batman said. "Just inefficient. Superman's covering international zones. He'll get to most before anyone else can. But we'll need every League and team member in North and Central America mobilized."
Artemis crossed her arms, brow furrowed. "You expect us to save those monsters?"
Batman's eyes didn't shift. "Yes. You may not like it. I don't care. The more this stream spreads unchecked, the greater the chance of systemic collapse. Riots. Targeted assassinations. Mass paranoia. We're not trying to help them. We're trying to stop society from eating itself."
The room stayed quiet.
"You'll receive instructions shortly," Batman concluded. "Prepare to move out."
**CLICK**
———
Underground—Ark Academies
The lower levels of the academy didn't echo.
They absorbed sound. Steel corridors stretched endlessly in every direction—gray, flat, built for function. No ornamentation. No flair. Just concrete certainty and cold light strips embedded in the ceiling.
Arias walked beside Doctor October, hands in his pockets, his blazer barely brushing the sides of his thighs. She was slightly shorter, clipboard in hand, her heels clicking softly against the reinforced floor.
"I'm amazed the worker droids completed this in such a short time, simplistic as it is" she said, her tone neutral but awe stricken. "This section was finished in under a week. And as per your instructions, no one—aside from myself—has had access to the project. All data has been scrubbed."
She paused, her steps slowing as they reached a junction.
"However…" She glanced at him sidelong. "You do understand what this means? If an error occurs now, there may be no way to trace or correct it."
Arias met her gaze for only a second. Just enough.
She was telling the truth. No hesitation. No hidden signals in her voice, mind or body language. He'd expected a scientist like her to at least think about keeping a backup sample. Something. Anything.
But there was nothing. No play for leverage. No passive resistance.
She knew better.
He smiled.
It was small. Brief. But real.
"I understand completely, Doctor," he said.