Chapter Text
The underground facility was still under construction, wires hanging from unfinished walls, the polished floors barely concealing the scent of fresh steel and reinforced concrete. It would eventually be the meeting place for the world’s most powerful heroes, if they could all agree on what exactly that meant.
Superman stood with his arms crossed, his cape shifting slightly in the artificial breeze of the ventilation system. He had been to a hundred high-tech facilities, but this one felt different. Not because of its design, but because of the people inside it.
The so-called Justice League was still in its infancy. A gathering of powerhouses who had barely fought side by side, much less learned to trust each other. Wonder Woman, Aquaman, Flash, Green Lantern, and Martian Manhunter were strong allies, but strangers in many ways. They were still feeling each other out, deciding if this alliance was even possible.
And then, there was him.
Superman heard him before he saw him. A the barely perceptible shift in air pressure as a shadow detached from the dimly lit corridor.
Batman.
Superman kept his stance relaxed, but his senses sharpened immediately. The man moved like a ghost, his dark figure barely making a sound. The armor was sleek but practical, more tactical than flashy. His cowl left only his mouth and jaw visible, and even that was carefully composed. The man behind the mask was controlled, tightly wound, precise, deliberate in a way that set him apart from everyone else in the room.
Superman had read about Gotham’s infamous vigilante, but the reports never did justice to the sheer presence the man carried.
“Nice of you to join us,” Superman said, breaking the silence.
Batman’s eyes—white slits in the darkness of his cowl—shifted toward him. “I didn’t come here to make friends.”
Superman arched a brow. “That’s a shame. I hear we’re supposed to be teammates.”
Batman didn’t react. He simply moved past him, scanning the room as if memorizing every detail. He didn’t fidget, didn’t hesitate. Just assessed.
Superman turned, watching him. “You don’t trust us.”
Batman finally met his gaze. “I don’t trust you.”
The room fell into a brief silence. Wonder Woman and Aquaman exchanged glances, and Flash looked like he wanted to sink into the floor.
Superman narrowed his eyes slightly. “I haven’t given you a reason not to.”
Batman tilted his head slightly. “Not yet.”
Superman sighed and crossed his arms. “You think I’m a threat.”
“I know you’re a threat,” Batman said, his voice level but sharp. “I make it my business to assess risk. And you? You’re the biggest risk in the room.”
Superman let out a humorless chuckle. “And what exactly makes me so dangerous?”
Batman stepped closer. Most men hesitated before getting in Superman’s space, but Batman didn’t flinch. “You’re powerful enough to wipe out this entire planet. You could burn a city to the ground in seconds. And you expect me to just take it on faith that you won’t?”
Superman met his gaze without backing down. “I fight to protect this world.”
Batman’s voice remained cold. “For now.”
The words hung in the air, heavier than the concrete surrounding them.
Superman clenched his jaw. He had dealt with suspicion before, but this was something else. This wasn’t fear. This wasn’t paranoia.
This was calculated distrust.
And yet, something about Batman’s approach felt familiar. It wasn’t just suspicion for the sake of it. It was deeper. More personal.
“You don’t trust anyone, do you?” Superman asked.
Batman didn’t answer.
Wonder Woman finally spoke, stepping between them. “Enough. We didn’t come here to fight each other.” She looked pointedly at Batman. “If we’re going to work together, we need trust.”
Batman didn’t respond, but his silence was answer enough.
Superman exhaled through his nose, steadying himself. “You can watch me all you want. Keep your files, run your surveillance, prepare for the worst.” He stepped forward, just enough to make his point. “But you’d better realize something, Batman. If I wanted to hurt this world, no one would stop me.”
For the first time, Batman smirked, just slightly.
“Glad we understand each other,” he said.
Superman stared at him for a moment longer before stepping back. He had faced warlords, monsters, and gods, but somehow, this man, this stubborn, infuriating, mortal man, was already under his skin in a way he hadn’t expected.
This was going to be interesting.
—-——————
Gotham City, East End
The rain fell in heavy sheets, turning the rooftops slick and the alleyways into rivers of filth. The glow of neon signs reflected off puddles, casting distorted colors across the dark streets. It was the kind of night where crime thrived, where Gotham’s underbelly felt untouchable.
Batman moved like a shadow, his cape trailing behind him as he perched on the edge of a crumbling rooftop. His eyes, concealed beneath the cowl, tracked the warehouse across the street, the supposed site of a major arms deal between the Maroni crime family and an unknown supplier.
The mission had been his—his city, his case.
And then Superman had shown up.
A gust of wind signaled his arrival before his voice did. “You know, there’s this thing called asking for help instead of sending cryptic messages to Wonder Woman.”
Batman didn’t look away from the warehouse. “And there’s this thing called stealth.”
Superman landed lightly beside him, arms crossed, cape billowing in the wind. “Stealth doesn’t do much when you can hear their heartbeats from a mile away.”
Batman turned slightly, his expression unreadable.
Superman sighed. “So, what’s the plan?”
Batman reached into his belt, pulling out a small drone. “The Maronis are buying from an unknown supplier. I need to identify who’s running the sale before we move in.”
Superman scanned the building with his x-ray vision. “Looks like fifteen men inside. Maroni’s people are armed, but the suppliers, they’re different. Armor, military-grade weapons. Definitely not street-level thugs.”
Batman narrowed his eyes. “No insignia?”
“No. But they’re disciplined.” Superman frowned. “They don’t act like hired muscle. They’re guarding the shipment like it’s something important.”
Batman tapped the side of his cowl, bringing up a tactical overlay. “That changes things. If they’re ex-military or something worse, we need to neutralize them fast.”
Superman smiled. “Finally, something we agree on.”
Batman ignored him. He pulled a grapple gun from his belt and aimed it at a nearby ledge. “I’ll go in through the rafters, take out their communications. You—”
Superman cut him off. “Fly in, disarm them before they can react, and make sure no one gets hurt.”
Batman shot him a look. “No killing.”
Superman’s expression hardened. “I don’t kill.”
Batman stared at him for a moment longer, as if testing the truth of those words. Then, with a swift movement, he fired the grapple and disappeared into the shadows.
Superman exhaled and muttered to himself, “Not even a good luck.”
Then, he moved.
Inside the warehouse, the deal was already underway. Maroni himself stood in the center, flanked by his men. Across from him, a squad of masked mercenaries guarded heavy black crates.
“This better be the good stuff,” Maroni grumbled, running a hand through his slicked-back hair. “Last shipment was a joke.”
The lead mercenary didn’t flinch. “Everything we supply is battlefield-tested. If you don’t like it, you’re free to go back to your street-corner garbage.”
Maroni sneered. “Big talk for a guy in a ski mask.”
The mercenary took a step forward. “You want this shipment or not?”
The tension thickened. Then, the lights cut out. A thud echoed through the rafters. A voice, low and cold, broke the silence.
“You should’ve stayed home, Maroni.”
Panic set in immediately. Maroni’s men scrambled for their weapons, but something moved in the darkness. A fist struck. A gun clattered to the floor. A grunt, then a body hitting concrete.
Then—
CRASH!
The roof exploded inward as Superman dropped into the center of the warehouse. The impact sent crates flying, the shockwave knocking several men off their feet.
One of the mercenaries raised a rifle, Superman grabbed it and crushed the barrel like paper.
“Don’t,” he said simply.
Chaos erupted. Maroni bolted for the exit, but Batman dropped from the shadows, landing directly in his path. A quick, precise strike sent the crime boss sprawling.
Meanwhile, Superman made quick work of the mercenaries. They fired, but the bullets bounced harmlessly off his chest. He blurred forward, disarming them one by one, their weapons crumpling under his grip.
Batman moved with surgical precision, taking out Maroni’s remaining men before they could even fire a shot. He swept one’s legs, elbowed another in the ribs, then used a grapple line to yank a fleeing thug off his feet.
In less than sixty seconds, it was over.
Superman exhaled, straightening as he surveyed the wreckage. “Efficient.”
Batman knelt beside one of the crates, prying it open. His expression darkened.
Superman stepped closer. “What is it?”
Batman lifted a sleek, metallic weapon, black with glowing blue energy coursing through it. Not military. Not standard.
“This wasn’t just an arms deal,” Batman murmured. “This is alien tech.”
Superman’s stomach tightened.
“Which means,” Batman continued, standing, “we have a bigger problem.”
Superman glanced down at the unconscious mercenaries. “Whoever they are, they’re not just weapons dealers.”
Batman turned toward him, eyes sharp. “No.” He examined the weapon one more time before muttering, “Someone is preparing for war.”
Superman met his gaze.
Batman stood over the unconscious mercenaries, his gloved fingers tightening around the alien weapon. The sleek, dark metal was smooth to the touch, but the glowing circuitry pulsed beneath its surface, alive with unfamiliar energy.
This was not Gotham’s usual brand of crime.
Superman stepped beside him, arms crossed. “Recognize it?”
Batman turned the weapon in his hand, eyes narrowed. “Not exactly. But I’ve seen similar designs before.”
Superman frowned. “Apokoliptian?”
Batman shook his head. “No. If it was, we’d already be dealing with something a lot worse.” He knelt, examining the weapon more closely. “This is different. Someone reverse-engineered this.”
Superman’s jaw tightened. “That means someone on Earth has access to off-world technology.”
Batman glanced at him. “And the resources to mass-produce it.”
They both looked at the crates scattered around the warehouse. This wasn’t some isolated deal. This was supply-chain level.
Batman stood, his mind already assembling possibilities. “We need to trace these weapons back to their source.”
Superman exhaled. “I’ll take one back to the Fortress. See if I can analyze its origins.”
Batman didn’t argue, but his gaze lingered on Superman. “You’ve dealt with tech like this before?”
Superman nodded. “Not this exact type, but weapons made from Kryptonian and other alien materials? Yeah. And they’re almost always bad news.”
Batman’s lips pressed into a thin line. He knew that already. It was why he was suspicious.
Superman could tell. “You still don’t trust me.”
Batman met his gaze. “I trust your intentions.”
Superman’s brow arched. “But?”
Batman took a step closer. “But power like yours—unchecked—always has consequences.” He gestured toward the wrecked warehouse. “This is what happens when people get their hands on things they don’t understand.”
Superman stared at him for a long moment. Then, to Batman’s surprise, he nodded.
“You’re not wrong,” he admitted.
Batman hadn’t expected agreement, and for some reason, that made him warier.
Superman turned his attention to the unconscious mercenaries. “I’ll take Maroni and his men to the GCPD.” He looked back at Batman. “You sticking around?”
Batman was already retrieving his grapple gun. “I have some leads to run down.”
Superman gave a half-smile. “Of course you do.”
Batman didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he fired the grapple, letting it pull him toward the nearest rooftop.
Superman watched him go, then glanced down at the weapon in his hand.
Whatever this was, it was only the beginning.
And something told him that he and Batman were going to be seeing a lot more of each other.
—-——————
Superman soared through the night sky, the alien weapon gripped tightly in his hand. The cold Gotham rain had long since given way to the frigid winds of the Arctic as he approached the Fortress of Solitude, its crystalline towers gleaming under the moonlight.
As he landed at the entrance, the great doors parted automatically, recognizing him. He stepped inside, the warmth of Kryptonian energy coursing through the air despite the ice that surrounded the structure. The Fortress was silent except for the hum of ancient technology, a monument to a lost world.
He moved toward the central chamber, where the AI construct of his father, Jor-El, awaited. The great crystal pillars flickered to life as Superman placed the alien weapon on the scanning platform. A soft blue glow enveloped the device, lifting it into the air as Kryptonian script scrolled across the holographic displays.
“Analyzing…” Jor-El’s voice echoed through the chamber, steady and methodical. The AI’s likeness appeared in a projected hologram before him, an image of his father preserved in light and data.
Superman folded his arms. “What can you tell me about it?”
Jor-El studied the readings. “This technology is not of Kryptonian origin. However…” His voice took on a measured quality. “It bears traces of design philosophies consistent with multiple alien civilizations—Zeta-Reticulan, Thanagarian, and… something else.”
Superman frowned. “Something else?”
The hologram shifted, and an expanded analysis appeared. “There are residual traces of an unknown energy signature embedded within the circuitry.” Jor-El’s gaze sharpened. “This material, while clearly engineered, was built around something far older. Something not of this galaxy.”
Superman stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “You mean it’s ancient?”
Jor-El nodded. “Not only ancient, but repurposed. Whoever manufactured this weapon did not create its core components, they discovered them.”
Superman’s stomach tightened. “So, someone on Earth is using alien technology that’s beyond their understanding.”
“That is correct.”
Superman turned away, running a hand through his hair. That was exactly what Batman had feared. And he was beginning to think, for all his paranoia, the Dark Knight had a point.
He glanced back at the projection. “Any idea who could’ve done this?”
Jor-El’s expression remained unreadable. “No single Earth-based entity possesses the knowledge required to combine these elements alone. However, if there is an organization conducting such experiments, they must have access to interstellar research.”
Superman’s mind immediately ran through the possibilities. Luthor? ARGUS? Some rogue black-market dealer like Mongul?
Jor-El continued. “Kal-El, I must caution you. This energy signature, while faint, resembles traces I have encountered in records of lost civilizations. Civilizations that did not survive their contact with it.”
Superman stiffened. “You think this could be dangerous on a planetary scale?”
“I believe it was dangerous once,” Jor-El corrected. “And if it is resurfacing, it will be again.”
Superman exhaled, his grip tightening. “Then we need to find out who is behind this before it gets worse.”
Jor-El’s gaze remained firm. “Do not undertake this alone, my son. You will need allies.”
Superman sighed. He already knew what Jor-El was implying. And he already knew the answer.
Batman .
The idea grated on him. They had barely worked together, and already they’d butted heads. Batman was brilliant, sure, but he was also stubborn, secretive, and, if Superman was honest, infuriating.
If Earth was sitting on the edge of a disaster, they were going to be in this together. Whether they liked it or not.
—-——————
The rooftop of an abandoned high-rise in Gotham’s Financial District was silent, save for the distant wail of sirens. The city sprawled below, a maze of steel and corruption, bathed in the sickly glow of neon and streetlights.
Batman stood near the edge, his cape shifting slightly in the wind as he waited. He hated waiting.
A gust of air signaled Superman’s arrival before Batman even turned his head. The Kryptonian landed smoothly a few feet away, the alien weapon tucked under one arm.
“You were right,” Superman said without preamble.
Batman turned slightly, just enough to regard him. “Go on.”
Superman held up the weapon. “I had it analyzed at the Fortress, it’s ancient. Whoever made it didn’t create it from scratch. They repurposed something they found.”
Batman’s eyes narrowed. “Found where?”
Superman shook his head. “That’s the problem. We don’t know. But whatever this material was originally used for... It’s powerful. Dangerous.”
Batman folded his arms, absorbing the information. “And now someone’s mass-producing them.”
Superman nodded. “If they have this, then they might have more.”
Batman turned back toward the cityscape. “Which means we need to find out who’s behind it before they use it for something worse.”
Superman stepped closer, his expression serious. “I can track interstellar signals, try to see if any known alien factions have had dealings on Earth. But if this is coming from inside the planet—”
“Then it’s my department,” Batman finished.
Superman hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.”
A tense silence settled between them. Despite their obvious differences, despite their mutual distrust, they were both circling the same problem.
Batman let out a slow breath. “I have contacts in Gotham’s black market. If something this valuable was being moved, someone knows about it. I’ll start there.”
Superman smirked slightly. “That’s assuming people will talk to you.”
Batman returned a dry look. “They’ll talk.”
Superman shook his head, still amused, but his expression turned thoughtful. “And what about Wayne Enterprises?”
Batman’s eyes flicked toward him, sharp. “What about it?”
“If this is advanced tech, someone in high-level weapons research might have seen traces of it before,” Superman reasoned. “Wayne Enterprises has one of the biggest R&D divisions in the world.”
Batman exhaled slowly. He hated where this was going.
Superman caught the hesitation. “You think it’s possible someone in that company is involved?”
Batman’s jaw tightened. “If they were, I’d already know about it.”
Superman arched an eyebrow. “Would you?”
Batman didn’t answer.
Superman exhaled, rubbing his chin. “Maybe I should—”
“No,” Batman cut him off. “If someone at Wayne Enterprises is involved, I’ll handle it.”
Superman studied him. “Because you don’t want me interfering, or because you don’t want me poking around Bruce Wayne’s business?”
Batman gave him a look. “Both.”
Superman chuckled. “You know, you always talk about Wayne like he’s some kind of idiot.”
Batman smirked slightly. “That is the image he has.”
Superman’s expression softened, just slightly. “I don’t think he’s as shallow as people say.”
Batman’s amusement faded. “You’d be one of the few.”
Superman shrugged. “He funds charities, advocates for reform, and puts more money into Gotham’s infrastructure than any other billionaire in the country. If you ask me, the city would be worse off without him.”
Batman stared at him. The fact that Superman was defending Bruce Wayne—his own alter ego—was almost funny. Almost.
Instead, he said, “You sound like a fan.”
Superman smiled. “I just don’t like seeing people dismiss someone who’s actually trying to help.”
Batman looked away, staring back out over Gotham. The irony of this entire conversation was almost unbearable.
Finally, he said, “Bruce Wayne may not be useless. But he’s not the solution to this.”
Superman nodded. “Then let’s find out who is.”
They stood in silence for a moment, the uneasy truce settling between them.
Then Batman turned. “If I need something, I’ll let you know.”
Superman gave a knowing smile. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Batman didn’t reply, disappearing into the shadows a moment later.
Superman lingered for a moment, watching the city.