David had always wondered what it would feel like to fly through space.
In his old life, he'd spent countless hours staring up at the night sky, dreaming of what lay beyond the thin blue line of Earth's atmosphere. He'd watched every space documentary, read every astronaut memoir, and even briefly considered applying to NASA before realizing that his fear of confined spaces and tendency toward motion sickness made him spectacularly unsuited for the astronaut life.
Now, as he rocketed upward through the stratosphere, leaving the blue sky behind and entering the star-speckled blackness of space, he realized that none of his imaginings had come close to the reality.
It was glorious.
The Earth curved beneath him, a marble of blue and white and green, impossibly beautiful against the infinite darkness. He could see city lights twinkling on the night side, the aurora borealis dancing over the poles, the thin bright line of atmosphere that was all that stood between humanity and the void.
And he could breathe.
That had been a genuine concern. He'd spent a solid twenty minutes before departure researching whether Viltrumites could survive in space, and while the records suggested they could, there was always the possibility that this universe operated by different rules. The last thing he wanted was to suffocate halfway to the Watchtower because he'd made an incorrect assumption about his biology.
But no—his lungs worked fine, or perhaps didn't need to work at all. He felt no discomfort, no pressure, nothing but the profound silence of the vacuum and the distant warmth of the sun on his face.
Superman did this every day, David thought, awe washing through him. He looked down at this view and then went to work saving people. How did he stay humble? How did anyone stay humble after seeing this?
He made a mental note to never take this for granted. No matter how many times he flew through space, he would always remember to appreciate it.
The Watchtower appeared on his sensors—or rather, appeared to his enhanced vision—about ten minutes into his flight. It was exactly as he'd imagined from the comics: a massive orbital station shaped vaguely like a tuning fork, bristling with technology and glowing with internal lights.
The headquarters of the Justice League. The most advanced structure humanity had ever built, with significant assistance from alien technology. A symbol of hope and protection that watched over the entire planet.
And he was about to walk inside.
Don't throw up, David told himself firmly. Do not throw up. You are a powerful Viltrumite warrior. You do not get nervous about meeting superheroes. You especially do not throw up in space, because that would be disgusting and also probably float around forever as a testament to your social anxiety.
He approached the station slowly, giving any automated defense systems plenty of time to identify him as a friendly. A docking bay opened on the lower section, lights blinking in what he assumed was a welcoming pattern.
David flew inside, his feet touching down on the metal floor as artificial gravity took hold. The bay was large and mostly empty, clearly designed to accommodate various sizes of spacecraft and flying heroes.
And waiting for him, standing near the interior door, were two women.
His heart did something complicated in his chest.
Wonder Woman was there, which he'd expected. She was wearing civilian clothes again—jeans, boots, and a deep red blouse that had a... very low neckline. Like, significantly lower than what she'd been wearing last night. The fabric draped in a way that drew the eye toward—
Her face. Look at her face. She's a warrior princess and a founding member of the Justice League and you will look at her face like a respectful adult.
"Nolan," Diana said, her smile warm and welcoming. "You came."
"I said I would," David replied, pleased that his voice remained steady. "Thank you for the invitation."
The other woman stepped forward, and David had to suppress another jolt of recognition.
Black Canary. Dinah Lance.
She was shorter than Diana but no less striking—blonde hair, athletic build, wearing a leather jacket over what appeared to be a fitted black dress. Her reputation preceded her: one of the best hand-to-hand fighters in the world, possessed of a supersonic scream that could shatter steel, and known for her sharp wit and sharper tongue.
"So this is the famous Omni-Man," Dinah said, circling him with obvious interest. "I have to say, you're even bigger in person."
"Thank you?" David said, uncertain whether that was a compliment.
"It's definitely a compliment." Dinah stopped in front of him, tilting her head back to meet his eyes. She was standing very close. Closer than most people stood for casual conversation. "Diana's been talking about you all day. She made you sound almost... cuddly."
"I did not use that word," Diana protested, but she was smiling.
"You implied it. You said he was 'surprisingly gentle' and 'unexpectedly thoughtful.'" Dinah placed a hand on David's arm—his forearm, specifically, wrapping her fingers around the muscle and squeezing lightly. "Hmm. Definitely not cuddly. More like... granite wrapped in skin."
David looked down at her hand, then at her face, then at Diana.
"Is this a test?" he asked. "Are you testing my reactions to physical contact?"
Both women stared at him.
Then Dinah burst out laughing.
"Oh my God," she said, releasing his arm to clutch her stomach. "Oh my God. Diana, you weren't kidding. He really is oblivious."
"I told you," Diana said, though she sounded more amused than anything else. "It's actually rather endearing."
David looked between them, completely lost. "I'm sorry, I don't understand. What am I oblivious to?"
This only made Dinah laugh harder.
Diana took pity on him, stepping forward and placing her hand on his other arm. Now he had two women touching him, which seemed excessive for a simple greeting.
"Don't worry about it," Diana said kindly. "Dinah just has a... unique sense of humor. Come, let me show you around the Watchtower. The others are eager to meet you."
She began walking toward the interior door, her hand sliding down his arm to briefly clasp his fingers before letting go. David followed, trying to process the interaction.
Was that a test? It felt like a test. But what were they testing? My reflexes? My tolerance for personal space invasion? My ability to not flinch when touched by attractive women?
Wait.
Attractive?
He shook his head slightly, dismissing the thought. He was here to meet the Justice League, to begin establishing himself as a trustworthy hero. He didn't have time to worry about... whatever that was.
Dinah fell into step on his other side, close enough that her shoulder occasionally brushed against his arm. It seemed accidental, but it happened frequently enough that David began to wonder if the Watchtower's corridors were narrower than they appeared.
"So, Omni-Man," Dinah said, looking up at him with bright eyes. "Or do you prefer Nolan?"
"Either is fine," David said.
"Nolan it is. More personal." She smiled. "Diana tells me you've had a change of heart about working with the League. What prompted that, if you don't mind my asking?"
David considered his response carefully. "I spent a long time operating alone, focused on large-scale threats. But I realized that approach was... incomplete. Being a hero isn't just about power or even about stopping villains. It's about connection. About showing people they're not alone."
Dinah was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke again, her tone was more serious. "That's a surprisingly mature perspective. Most people with your level of power never figure that out."
"I'm a slow learner," David admitted. "But I get there eventually."
"Hmm." Dinah's hand found his arm again, giving it a brief squeeze. "I think I like you, Nolan. You're not what I expected."
"What did you expect?"
"Honestly? Kind of an arrogant ass." She grinned. "The other powerhouses we've encountered—and there haven't been many at your level—tend to have ego problems. God complexes. You know the type."
David thought about the original Omni-Man, about the Viltrumite Empire's philosophy of conquest and domination. "I can imagine."
"But you're different. Diana saw it, and now I'm seeing it too." Dinah nodded approvingly. "You might actually fit in here."
"I hope so," David said, and meant it.
They walked through several corridors, each one more impressive than the last. The Watchtower was a marvel of engineering—sleek, efficient, and somehow both intimidating and welcoming at the same time. Monitors lined the walls, displaying news feeds from around the world. Technology David couldn't even begin to understand hummed quietly in the background.
And everywhere, there were reminders of the League's purpose: inspirational quotes etched into plaques, photos of successful missions, a memorial wall honoring those who had fallen in the line of duty.
This is where heroes gather, David thought. This is where the protectors of Earth coordinate their efforts. And they're letting me in.
The pressure of that responsibility settled on his shoulders, familiar and heavy. He wouldn't let them down. He couldn't let them down.
Diana stopped in front of a large set of double doors. "The main hall is through here. Most of the others have already arrived." She turned to face him, and something in her expression shifted—becoming softer, more personal. "Are you ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be."
Diana reached out and adjusted his collar—a completely unnecessary gesture, since his costume didn't have a collar, but her fingers brushed against his neck in the process. "You'll do fine. Just be yourself."
Myself. Right. A dead physical therapist pretending to be an alien conqueror pretending to be a hero. Easy.
"Thank you, Diana. For this opportunity."
"Thank me after you survive Batman's interrogation," Dinah said cheerfully. "Come on, let's not keep everyone waiting."
The doors slid open, revealing a vast circular room filled with people David had only ever seen in comics and on screens.
And every single one of them was looking at him.
The main hall of the Watchtower was designed to impress, and it succeeded admirably.
The room was dominated by a massive circular table in the center, around which various heroes had gathered. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of Earth below, the planet's curve visible against the stars. Multiple levels of walkways and platforms allowed access to different areas, and holographic displays flickered with data throughout the space.
But David barely noticed any of that, because he was too busy trying not to hyperventilate.
That's Batman. That's actual Batman, standing right there, looking at me with those terrifying white eyes. And that's The Flash, vibrating slightly like he can't stand still. And Martian Manhunter, who can read minds, oh God, can he read my mind right now? Is he reading my mind? What if he finds out I'm not really—
"Nolan." Diana's hand on his back—warm, steady, grounding—interrupted his spiral. "Let me introduce you."
She guided him forward, and David forced his body to move with calm confidence he absolutely did not feel.
You are Omni-Man. You have been a hero for fifteen years. You have fought cosmic threats. You do not get nervous about meeting other heroes.
You are definitely not about to pass out from anxiety.
"Everyone," Diana announced, and the room's attention focused on her, "this is Omni-Man. Nolan Grayson. He has accepted our invitation to join tonight's gathering."
A beat of silence.
Then the Flash zipped forward, appearing in front of David so quickly that even his enhanced senses barely tracked the movement.
"Hey! Great to meet you! I'm Barry—Flash—but you probably knew that—do you want some food? There's food—the caterers are really good—or drinks, we have drinks—non-alcoholic too if that's your thing—"
"Barry." A calm, deep voice cut through the speedster's rambling. "Give the man some room."
David looked past Barry to see Martian Manhunter approaching. The Martian was tall—nearly as tall as David in his current form—with green skin, red eyes, and a serene expression that seemed impossible to ruffle.
"Welcome to the Watchtower, Omni-Man," J'onn said, extending his hand. "I am J'onn J'onzz."
David shook his hand, doing his best to project calm. "Thank you. I've heard great things about your work."
Please don't read my mind. Please don't read my mind. Please don't—
J'onn's expression flickered slightly, and for a terrifying moment David was certain the telepath had heard every panicked thought in his head.
But then J'onn simply nodded. "Your mind is... quieter than I expected. Most beings of significant power broadcast their thoughts quite loudly. You seem remarkably... centered."
What?
"I've been working on meditation," David said, which was technically true—he'd spent about ten minutes that morning trying to clear his head. He hadn't expected it to actually work as telepathic defense.
"It shows." J'onn released his hand and stepped back. "I look forward to working with you."
Before David could respond, another figure approached—this one shorter, dressed entirely in black, with a cape that seemed to absorb the light around it.
Batman.
The Dark Knight stopped about three feet away and simply... looked at him. David had read countless comics about Batman's intimidation tactics, his legendary ability to make even the most powerful beings uncomfortable through sheer force of personality.
The comics had undersold it.
"Omni-Man," Batman said, his voice a low rasp. "You've operated in the shadows for fifteen years. You've rejected every invitation we've extended. And now, suddenly, you want to join us."
It wasn't a question.
"I wouldn't say I want to join you," David replied carefully. "I'm not sure I'm ready for that kind of commitment. But I'm open to cooperation. Partnership."
"Why now?"
Because I literally just woke up in this body yesterday and I'm trying to figure out how to not screw everything up.
"Because I realized I was wrong," David said instead. "I thought isolation was strength. I was mistaken. True strength comes from connection, from community, from being willing to rely on others and let them rely on you."
Batman's eyes—white lenses in his cowl, revealing nothing—continued to bore into him.
"That's a significant philosophical shift for someone who has historically avoided all emotional entanglements."
"It is."
"What prompted it?"
David met Batman's gaze steadily. "I can't give you specifics. Let's just say I had an experience that... changed my perspective. Made me realize that the path I was on wasn't leading anywhere good."
A long pause.
Then Batman nodded, just slightly. "We'll see."
He turned and walked away, cape swirling behind him.
David let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"That went well," Dinah said from beside him—when had she gotten so close? Her arm was linked through his now, her body pressed against his side. "Batman didn't accuse you of being a secret alien infiltrator or anything."
"Is that usually how his greetings go?"
"You'd be surprised." She grinned up at him. "Come on, let me introduce you to the others. And get you a drink. You look like you could use one."
The next hour was a blur of introductions and conversations.
David met Hal Jordan again, who greeted him like an old friend despite their brief encounter that morning. He met Aquaman, who was exactly as imposing as the comics suggested—tall, muscular, with an easy confidence that spoke of centuries of royal authority. He met Hawkgirl, whose wings were even more impressive in person, and Green Arrow, who seemed to be engaged in a constant low-level argument with everyone around him.
Throughout it all, Diana remained nearby. Not hovering, exactly, but... present. Every time David turned around, she seemed to be there, offering a smile or a word of encouragement. Her low-cut blouse kept drawing his eye, which was annoying because he was trying to focus on important superhero networking things.
It's just a shirt, he told himself firmly. Women wear shirts. Shirts have necklines. This is normal. Stop being weird about it.
Dinah, meanwhile, had appointed herself his unofficial guide. She kept a hand on his arm more often than not, steering him through the crowd and providing running commentary on everyone they met.
"That's Zatanna—she's a magician, the real kind. Don't get into a card game with her unless you want to lose your shirt. Sometimes literally."
"That's Hawkman—he and Hawkgirl are... complicated. Very long history. Very dramatic. Try not to bring up ancient Egypt unless you have a few hours to spare."
"That's—oh, never mind, that's just Green Arrow being Green Arrow. Ignore him when he gets political."
"Are you always this... hands-on?" David asked finally, as Dinah's fingers traced absent patterns on his forearm.
She looked up at him, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Why? Does it bother you?"
"No, I just..." He struggled to find the right words. "Is this normal? For the League? Are you all very... tactile with each other?"
Dinah's smile widened. "Oh, you are adorable."
"I don't understand what that means."
"I know you don't." She patted his arm. "That's what makes it adorable."
Before David could request clarification, Diana appeared at his other side, holding two glasses of something that sparkled blue.
"Nolan, I thought you might want a drink. It's Tamaranean wine—quite good, though it has some unusual effects on humans. Fortunately, you're not human, so you should be fine."
She pressed the glass into his hand, her fingers lingering on his for a moment longer than necessary.
"Thank you," David said, taking a sip. The wine was surprisingly pleasant—sweet but not cloying, with a warmth that spread through his chest. "This is good."
"I'm glad you like it." Diana moved closer, and now he had both women pressed against either side of him, which seemed like a very space-inefficient way to have a conversation. "Are you enjoying the gathering?"
"It's... a lot to take in," David admitted. "But everyone has been welcoming. More welcoming than I expected, given my history."
"People can change," Diana said softly. "That's one of the most beautiful things about humanity—and about beings who live among them. The capacity for growth. For redemption."
There was something in her tone that made David look at her more closely. The low light of the hall caught her features, highlighting the classical beauty of her face, the strength and wisdom in her eyes.
She really is remarkable, he thought. Not just powerful, but genuinely good. The kind of person who sees the best in others and inspires them to reach for it.
No wonder she became the leader of the League in this universe.
"I'm trying," David said. "I don't know if I'll succeed, but I'm trying."
Diana's hand found his—his free hand, the one not holding the wine glass—and squeezed gently. "That's all any of us can do."
They stood like that for a moment, Diana holding his hand, Dinah pressed against his other side, the party continuing around them.
This is nice, David thought. Weird, but nice. They seem to genuinely like me. Or at least like this version of me. Maybe I can actually do this. Maybe I can actually be part of something bigger.
"Omni-Man."
Batman's voice cut through his reverie. The Dark Knight had reappeared, seemingly from nowhere, holding a tablet in his hands.
"We need to talk. Privately."
The warmth of the moment evaporated instantly.
"Of course," David said, gently extracting himself from Diana and Dinah's proximity. "Lead the way."
He followed Batman toward a side corridor, very aware of the eyes on his back.
And here comes the interrogation, he thought. Let's hope I can survive it.