Batman's fingers moved across the Apokoliptean console with a precision as if he was dismantling a bomb. The interface was hostile, designed to resist, to misdirect. But Batman had studied Apokolips's technology for years now. He had dissected parademons, analyzed wreckage. He knew the architecture of Apokolips the way a locksmith knows the inside of a lock.
The data flowed, navigation logs. Communication records. Command hierarchies. Ship manifests. Everything Steppenwolf didn't expect a human to find, laid bare on the screen, translated into something the Batcomputer could understand.
Then the console went dark.
The screen died, the lights in the ship itself died. The hum of the ship's engines, that constant, background vibration that Batman hadn't even noticed until it stopped went silent.
Batman's hands paused.
The only light came from the emergency panels, the only sound was the distant screech of parademons outside fighting the Lanterns.
"This is a problem," Batman said.
He studied the dead console, the shutdown had been too clean, too complete, to be accidental, a security countermeasure. The moment the system detected an unauthorized intrusion at the command level, it had cut its own throat rather than surrender its secrets.
The data he had extracted was safe, stored in the buffer, waiting to be uploaded. But there was more, there was always more, and the ship was now a dead shell floating in the air, slowly falling, its secrets locked behind walls of emergency shutdown protocols.
Batman closed his eyes behind the cowl.
'We need power..'
The word echoed in his mind then his eyes opened.
"Power," he said again. "Right. I have the Flash."
He pressed the comm in his cowl.
"Flash! Come in."
The response was instantaneous, Barry's voice, slightly distorted by the interference of the dead ship's walls, but clear enough.
"What's the issue, Bats? I just noticed this whole ship went to sleep. Lights out, engines off, everything."
"A security countermeasure," Batman said. "The system detected the intrusion and shut down all essential power."
"Bats, the lights are off, at least tell me you finished your task."
"Not yet."
There was a pause.
"...Right. You want me to generate power for the entire ship, don't you?"
Batman's lips curved, just slightly, just for a moment.
"It will be more than enough," he said. "Much more, in fact."
"Alright."
Barry's voice was calm and professional. But Batman heard excitement, The Flash had run across continents, through time itself, into the speed force and back again. Powering a single ship?
That wasn't a challenge, that was a warm-up. "Give me a second."
Batman stepped back from the console.
And the ship woke up.
Not gradually. Not gently. The lights didn't flicker back to life, they exploded into brilliance, every panel on the bridge blazing at once. The console screen flashed white, then settled into its standard display. The engines roared, a deep, resonant thrum that vibrated through the deck plates and into Batman's bones.
Batman watched the power readings on the console climb past the ship's normal operating parameters.
Past its maximum operating parameters, past what Apokolips designers had probably thought was physically possible.
"Much more than necessary," Batman murmured. "Always so efficient, Barry."
Through the comm, Barry's voice came back, slightly breathless, but warm with amusement.
"Appreciate it. But, uh... shouldn't we hurry? Steppenwolf might figure out what we're doing."
"He already knows." Batman's fingers found the console again, pulling up the data he'd lost, resuming the download. "It won't matter."
Barry was quiet for a moment.
"Right," he said finally. "Arthur would go directly to him once we are done here..."
Batman didn't answer. His focus was on the screen, on the flood of information pouring into the buffer. Navigation logs spanning months, Communication records between Steppenwolf and Desaad. A partial manifest of Apokoliptean forces stationed in this sector.
And coordinates of the Mother Ship of Steppenwolf.
'There.'
Batman's eyes locked onto the data stream. A location in deep space, far from any mapped route, far from the planet they were in.
'Got you.'
"This is quite a lot of information," Batman said, his voice flat. "Uploading to the Watchtower and the Batcave data centers as we speak."
"Good," Barry said.
Another voice cut through the comm, Hal, breathless, the sound of parademon screeches in the background.
"Good work, Do we have a location?"
Batman's jaw tightened.
"Yeah." He pulled up the coordinates, confirmed them, flagged them for priority transmission. "We do. And I've already sent it to Arthur."
.
.
.
.
Steppenwolf's Mother Ship - Deep Space
Steppenwolf stood before the viewscreen, his reflection a ghost in the glass, his fists clenched at his sides.
The dead world, the battlefield, the trap, had shrunk to a distant speck. His ships were retreating, his parademons were dying in that planet, the container, the prize he had been trying to claim, was still in the hands of the Shadow Lanterns.
And the Dark Knight had breached his systems.
"They have pinpointed our location using one of our small ships..." Steppenwolf said. His voice was quiet, almost contemplative. "This is bad."
He turned from the viewscreen, walking toward the command dais.
"I did not think that human would be able to compromise our technology." His boots echoed against the metal floor slowly. "I underestimated him. A mistake I will not make again.."
He stopped at the dais, his hands resting on the console.
"No matter." His voice hardened. "We will obtain that box another time. Alongside everything the Shadow Lanterns have at their home, eventually." He raised his head, looking out at the stars beyond the viewscreen. "Set course for planet.."
The footsteps interrupted him.
They were soft, it came from someone who could have been silent but chose not to be. Someone who wanted to be heard.
Steppenwolf's hand moved to his axe.
No one was supposed to be here, his parademons knew better than to approach without summons. His officers knew better than to intrude, the only footsteps in this place were supposed to be his.
He turned, and his blood ran cold.
Arthur Blackwynd walked across the place like he owned it, like he owned the ship, his shadow armor blacker than black, edged with violet light, his eyes glowed with the same violet fire.
He walked past the command consoles, directly toward Steppenwolf.
And he did not stop until he was close enough to touch.
Steppenwolf's axe came up.
"Greetings," Arthur said. His voice was calm, almost friendly as if he was greeting an old acquaintance at a party, not confronting a New God on his own warship. "Steppenwolf."
Steppenwolf's grip tightened on the axe. His heart, a drum announcing the approach of something terrible.
"The Shadow Monarch," he said. His voice held steady. "You come alone?"
Arthur's smile was thin cold and without warmth.
"Am I?"
Behind him, the shadows on the ship began to move. They stretched across the floor, up the walls, across the ceiling, shapes formed within them.
Steppenwolf's eyes darted to the shadows. Then back to Arthur.
"So, this is your power, your army."
"I brought myself." Arthur's smile didn't change.
Steppenwolf's jaw tightened. His mind raced through possibilities, through tactics, through every lesson he had learned in ten thousand years of warfare.
None of them applied to this.
"The trap," Steppenwolf said. "That box of fear, the Lanterns, the League of humans..." He shook his head, slowly, almost admiringly. "All of it was just to find me."
"All of it was to give you a choice." Arthur's violet eyes locked onto Steppenwolf's, and something in them shifted, became less patient, less friendly, less human. "Killing my Lanterns was a fatal mistake, you've been attacking my people, drawing my attention." He took a single step closer. "You have it now."
Steppenwolf raised his axe.
"You think I fear you, shadow?"
"I think," Arthur said, "that you should."
/-\
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