( A;N: Hope y'all like it and I had to change the White Martians backstory abit since there are plotholes, In JLA white martians are weak to ultraviolet Rays but we will eventually have Miss Martian in the story who is a white martian but able to withstand the sun. So, I had to tweak the backstory and their weaknesses abit it's non-canon but I think it'll work out fine other than that there's not much to change a few tweaks here and there next chapter will be uploaded today as well so rest assured. So, Y'all bookworms please don't come later on saying how can White Martians stay under the sun!!! Well if Miss Martian can !! Why not !! Lmao)
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**Help... Me...**
*"Hahh... hah... hah..."*
Clark rubbed his face roughly, hauling himself out of bed with a groan. The same dream again—for the umpteenth time this month. A green-skinned alien, trapped in viscous green sludge, its telepathic plea echoing in his skull: *"Help... me..."* The image lingered like a bad aftertaste, vivid and unrelenting, stirring something primal in his gut that he couldn't shake.
He stumbled to the balcony, the cool night air of Metropolis biting at his non-existent sweat-damp skin. Staring into the starless sky, he whispered to the void, *"Who... are you?"* The words hung heavy, unanswered, as the dreamscape faded to suffocating black.
***
High above the glittering sprawl of New Haven, Lucian soared on silent wings of raw power, eyes narrowed against the wind. *"Where are you, J'onn?"* he growled under his breath, the voice from his dreams plaguing him again—fainter this time, but unmistakable. A psychic intrusion had first prickled his mind a week ago, weak enough to dismiss with a mental shove. He'd blocked it out, buried it under the grind of this cursed existence. But tonight? It hit like a thunderclap, and he knew instantly: Martian Manhunter. J'onn J'onzz.
*"Looks like it's the White Martians this time,"* he muttered, fists clenching until his knuckles whitened. He hated this world—hated how it dragged him into its endless brawls, turning him into a reluctant gladiator. Peace, once a balm, now gnawed at him like an itch under his skin. His new body, this Saiyan powerhouse of a bloodline, craved the chaos. Boredom wasn't just dull; it was *excruciating*, a restless hunger that left him pacing like a caged beast. *Curses to this bloodline,* he thought bitterly. The strength? He'd take it in a heartbeat. But the repercussions—the isolation, the wars that never ended—those were the chains he loathed.
Diana's face flashed in his mind, her worry etching lines of concern he'd glimpsed earlier during his frantic chase. Their bond had deepened these past months, a quiet anchor amid his storm of past failures.
Relationships had always crumbled for him before—trust eroded by secrets or betrayal. But Diana? He *knew* her, down to her bones and blood, from echoes of a past life spent devouring comics and stories. How could he not trust the one soul he'd studied like scripture?
A wry chuckle escaped him mid-flight. He wondered idly if *this* Diana carried the old comic weakness—that absurd trope where Wonder Woman, shoulder-to-shoulder with Superman, lost her strength if bound by a man. Hilarious, really. Were the writers drunk, or just indulging fantasies? Thank the gods it got retconned later. Still, the thought warmed him, a flicker of levity in the night.
Shaking it off, he pushed farther, scanning for that faint ki signature. The voice had spiked, then vanished like smoke. He'd never extended his senses this wide before; the strain buzzed in his temples, leaving him perplexed and on edge. Descending to a shadowed rooftop, the city's hum faded below, he paused—then tensed. Someone was incoming, fast.
He relaxed instinctively, recognizing the presence. *"You know, you might be the first man who's ever made me *chase* him,"* Diana remarked, her voice laced with amusement as she touched down beside him, smirking in the moonlight. Her armor gleamed, dark hair whipping in the breeze.
Lucian flashed a wry smile, heart lightening despite the tension. *"Well, I love the honor. Makes me feel special."*
She shook her head, stepping closer, her eyes scanning the horizon before locking onto his. *"Superman called a meeting. The League's gathering."*
He glanced away, jaw tightening. *"I told you, Diana—I'm not part of the League."*
Her gaze softened, but her voice held steel. *"I know. But I figured you'd want in on this. Clark said he found the one who's been calling for help. The voice... it's the same one haunting you, isn't it?"*
The words hit like a gut punch. Of course—Superman, ever the boy scout, would track it first. Even in JLA, It was Superman who found him alongside Batman how could he forget? How? Lucian's pulse quickened, a mix of dread and electric anticipation surging through him. J'onn. The White Martians. It all clicked, pulling at that restless hunger. *"Lead the way,"* he said finally, voice rough.
Diana nodded, a proud glint in her eye, and they launched skyward together. The scene blurred to black.
***
They streaked over rolling hills, the vast green expanse below unmarred by city lights. Lucian spotted the gathering first: the Justice League, silhouetted in a clearing, with a few unfamiliar faces among the classics. His eyes snagged on one in particular—Hawkgirl, wings folded like shadowed blades, her Nth metal mace glinting. Spy or the real deal? He mused, unable to deny her striking beauty, fierce even under that helmet.
*"Like what you see?"* Diana's amused voice cut through, dripping with sass.
Lucian coughed, heat creeping up his neck—a rare flush for him. *"I... uh... just thought her wings were exotic. That's all. Battle-ready, you know?"*
*"Mhmmmn-hmmn..."* Diana hummed, channeling that perfect, sassy Black woman tone that would leave anyone sweating. No words needed; the implication hung like a challenge.
He drifted closer mid-air, slipping a hand to her waist, pulling her gently against him. *"Are you jealous, my goddess?"* he teased, smirking to mask the genuine affection swelling in his chest. *"You know I still think you're the prettiest. Untouchable, You're the only one my eyes always end at."*
She smiled then—warm, radiant, melting the last of his tension—but simply floated ahead without a reply, her laughter a soft ripple on the wind. Lucian wiped imaginary sweat from his brow, pulse racing. *Crisis averted... or just postponed?* As they descended into the clearing, the League's eyes turned toward them, the weight of the mystery—and whatever waited beyond—settling like a storm on the horizon.
***