The Watchtower’s sleek conference room, orbiting high above Earth, was bathed in the soft glow of starlight filtered through its panoramic windows. Seated around the large, circular table were the most prominent members of the Justice League. Superman sat with his arms crossed, his cape draped over the back of his chair. Wonder Woman leaned forward, her gaze steady and curious. The Flash—Barry Allen—tapped his fingers idly, while Green Lantern—John Stewart—watched Batman intently. Aquaman and Martian Manhunter completed the assembly, their expressions ranging from neutral to mildly intrigued.
Batman stood at the head of the table, his imposing figure casting long shadows. He placed a small, secure drive onto the table’s console, activating the holographic display. A faint hum accompanied the appearance of Tom Martin’s image, a snapshot from the security feed at Wayne Manor’s gates.
“We have a problem,” Batman began, his gravelly voice cutting through the room’s silence. “Approximately 12 hours ago, a young man named Tom Martin arrived in Gotham under highly irregular circumstances. According to him, he is not from our universe.”
A ripple of murmurs spread through the room, but Batman raised a hand to forestall interruptions. “He claims to have been transported here through a portal, created by an entity whose motives are unclear. I have corroborated several elements of his story with physical evidence.”
Barry leaned forward, his brows furrowing. “Wait a second,” he said, gesturing toward Batman. “You said this happened 12 hours ago? Why are we only hearing about it now?”
Superman’s expression mirrored Barry’s concern as he added, “A dimensional traveler is the kind of thing we should’ve been informed about immediately, Bruce. What took so long?”
Batman’s jaw tightened, though his voice remained calm and deliberate. “Because I needed to assess the situation without drawing premature conclusions. Bringing an unverified claim to the League could have caused unnecessary alarm. I spent the time confirming his story and evaluating his potential threat level.”
Green Lantern crossed his arms, his gaze skeptical. “And what did you find?”
Batman keyed in additional data, the hologram shifting to display a portal’s residual energy signature. “This energy signature was captured near the location where Tom claims to have appeared. It matches no known technology or magical phenomenon we’ve cataloged but is consistent with dimensional anomalies we’ve encountered before.”
Superman’s eyes narrowed. “Evidence of a portal doesn’t mean his story checks out. What else do you have?”
“Tom has no digital footprint,” Batman continued, his tone unyielding. “No records in any database, no fingerprints, no DNA matches. He doesn’t exist in our world. Furthermore, his knowledge aligns disturbingly well with reality. He correctly identified multiple League members by their civilian identities.”
The hologram shifted again, displaying a map of Gotham City. “He knew the location of key sites in Gotham, including the Batcave’s general vicinity. He knew my identity as Batman, Clark’s as Superman, Diana’s as Wonder Woman, and others. These are not details someone could simply guess.”
Barry frowned, his fingers tapping faster. “So he’s got our secrets. How do we know he’s not working for someone? Or that he’s not a threat?”
“I’ve considered that,” Batman said coldly. “But the evidence undermines that theory. If Tom were a spy or saboteur, there’d be a trail. Someone would have had to place him here, and there would be evidence of tampering with the systems I’ve checked. There’s nothing.”
Wonder Woman’s voice broke through the tension, her tone thoughtful. “You said he knew our identities. How does he explain that?”
“In his world, we are fiction,” Batman said flatly. “Comic books, movies, television shows. He described events from these stories that align—sometimes imperfectly—with our reality. He also referenced conflicting timelines, suggesting his information may not always apply. He’s deliberately withheld certain details, but he offered enough to confirm that his claims aren’t baseless.”
Aquaman raised an eyebrow. “Fiction? So what, he’s a fan?”
Batman ignored the sarcasm. “He’s a man displaced from his world. That much seems clear. But some of his knowledge poses a significant threat. He’s hinted at entities whose involvement I’d rather not contemplate. If his presence here is tied to one of them, we’re dealing with forces beyond even the League’s reach.”
Martian Manhunter’s calm voice interjected. “Has he provided any evidence to support his knowledge?”
Batman’s lips pressed into a thin line. “He correctly detailed the circumstances of Jason Todd’s death—including the Joker’s use of a bomb. This is information that is not publicly known, nor would it be accessible to someone from this world. His explanation aligns with the energy signature’s timing and location, but there are still gaps.”
Superman leaned forward, his expression grave. “And what do you propose we do about him?”
Batman’s gaze swept across the room, his voice resolute. “He remains at Wayne Manor under observation. He’s cooperating and has shown no signs of hostile intent. However, his knowledge—even if incomplete—poses risks. I’m bringing this to the League because we need contingencies. If the entity responsible for his arrival is hostile, we need to prepare.”
Wonder Woman nodded. “I suggest the Lasso of Truth. If he’s truthful, it may provide clarity.”
Batman inclined his head. “The Lasso is a viable option. He’s already indicated he’s willing to submit to its use but has limitations on what he’ll disclose. He’s made it clear that discussing certain future events or entities could provoke dangers he’d rather avoid.”
Barry frowned. “And if he’s lying?”
“Then we treat him as a threat,” Batman said bluntly. “But for now, his presence is an anomaly—not an enemy. Until proven otherwise, he’s under my protection. The portal’s energy signature and his lack of a digital footprint already point to him being an outsider.”
John Stewart leaned back, his expression skeptical. “So what’s the endgame here? We let him wander around Wayne Manor forever?”
“No,” Batman replied. “We gather information. If his knowledge can be verified and used responsibly, it’s an asset. If it can’t, then we contain the threat. Either way, we’ll know more soon.”
Martian Manhunter’s voice was calm but firm. “I could probe his mind to confirm his claims.”
Batman shook his head. “He’s already expressed fear of mental tampering. Forcing it would make him less cooperative. The Lasso is non-invasive and achieves the same result.”
Superman nodded. “Then that’s our next step. Use the Lasso to confirm his story. In the meantime, keep him secure. If this entity’s motives are hostile, we’ll need every advantage.”
Wonder Woman inclined her head toward Batman. “Shall we schedule the questioning for tomorrow? The sooner we uncover the truth, the better.”
Batman gave a curt nod. “Tomorrow works. I’ll inform Tom and prepare him for what to expect.”
The room fell silent, the weight of the discussion settling over the League. Finally, Wonder Woman spoke again, her tone thoughtful. “If nothing else, his presence is a reminder that our universe is not isolated. We must tread carefully.”
The meeting concluded with the League members dispersing, their expressions thoughtful and wary. Batman lingered for a moment, his gaze fixed on the hologram of Tom’s face. His mind raced through contingencies and worst-case scenarios.
----------------------------------------
The next day, Tom was seated in one of the plush chairs in the Wayne Manor library, his fingers tracing aimless patterns on the armrest. The weight of everything—being in a new universe, dealing with Kaelith, and now the looming presence of the Justice League—was enough to make his head spin. He didn’t expect the soft knock at the door that preceded Bruce’s entrance.
“Tom,” Bruce said, stepping into the room with his usual measured calm. His expression was serious, but there was a faint undertone of reassurance in his tone. “We need to talk.”
Tom sat up straighter, nerves prickling. “What is it?”
Bruce approached the chair opposite him and sat down, folding his hands. “The Justice League is aware of your presence now. I briefed them on your situation, and they’re taking it seriously. However, given the stakes involved, confirmation of your story is necessary.”
Tom’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean by confirmation?”
“Wonder Woman is on her way here,” Bruce said plainly. “Her Lasso of Truth will ensure everything you’ve told us is accurate. Once we’ve verified your claims, the League can dedicate their full resources to helping you figure out why you were brought here and how to deal with the entity involved.”
Tom swallowed hard. “The Lasso of Truth? So, it's happening?”
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Bruce’s gaze didn’t waver. “It’s the most efficient way to resolve any doubts. If you’ve been truthful, you have nothing to fear.”
Tom let out a humorless laugh. “Right. No pressure then.”
Bruce stood, his tone softening slightly. “This is a step forward, Tom. If your story checks out, the League will support you fully. That’s not something we offer lightly.”
Before Tom could respond, the faint sound of a car approaching the manor reached his ears. Bruce glanced toward the window. “She’s here.”
Minutes later, Tom found himself in the manor’s formal sitting room. The grandeur of the space, with its intricate wood paneling and high ceilings, did little to ease his anxiety. The door opened, and Wonder Woman stepped inside, her presence commanding yet calming. She wore her signature armor, the golden Lasso of Truth coiled at her side, its faint glow a reminder of its power.
“Tom Martin,” she said, her voice strong yet gentle, her piercing gaze meeting his. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, though I wish it were under less complicated circumstances.”
Tom stood awkwardly, nodding. “Yeah, complicated is one word for it.”
Diana approached, her movements fluid and purposeful. She glanced at Bruce, who stood by the fireplace, his arms crossed and his expression unreadable. “Are we ready?” she asked.
Bruce gave a curt nod. “He’s agreed to this.”
Tom took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. “Alright. Let’s get this over with.”
Diana uncoiled the Lasso with practiced ease, its golden threads shimmering with an otherworldly light. She held it out toward Tom, her voice firm but reassuring. “Do not fear the Lasso. It compels honesty but does not harm. Simply speak your truth, and we will listen.”
Bruce’s voice cut through the charged silence, steady and direct. “We’re not asking for specifics, Tom—just an overview. The broader strokes of what you know will suffice. We’ll avoid anything that risks too much detail or draws the attention you fear.”
Tom hesitated for a moment before stepping forward. The Lasso settled around his wrists, its warmth and strange clarity washing over him. His mind felt exposed, the weight of lies or half-truths lifting as he prepared to speak.
“I’m from another world,” he began, his voice steady despite his racing thoughts. “A world without superheroes. No powers, no gods, no meta-humans. But in my world, all of you exist—in stories, comics, movies. That’s how I know who you are, your identities, your abilities. I didn’t ask to come here. A portal brought me, and I don’t know why.”
Diana’s expression remained composed, though her gaze grew more intent. “How did this portal come to find you?” she asked.
Tom swallowed hard, the Lasso compelling him forward. “I… I tried to kill myself,” he admitted, his voice shaking slightly. “I jumped off a building. But instead of hitting the ground, the portal opened. It pulled me in and sent me here.”
The room fell deathly silent. Bruce’s usually stoic expression tightened, his jaw clenching slightly as he processed the revelation. Diana’s eyes softened, compassion flickering across her face.
“You were trying to end your life,” Diana said gently, her tone devoid of judgment. “And instead, you were brought here. Do you see that as a curse or an opportunity?”
Tom exhaled shakily, his hands trembling slightly. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “At first, it felt like a punishment. But now… maybe it’s a second chance. I’m still figuring it out.”
Diana nodded slowly, her gaze unwavering. “Your perspective matters. But we must also consider the knowledge you carry. Tell me, how much do you truly know about us—about the Justice League?”
Tom hesitated, the weight of the question pressing on him. “I know a lot,” he said finally. “Your identities. Your abilities. Your strengths and weaknesses. In my world, those things are public knowledge—part of the stories. But here, they’re secrets. And I know how dangerous that makes what I know.”
Diana raised an eyebrow. “You’ve mentioned entities and events that can’t be spoken of without risk. But surely there are some you can describe without harm. Start with one.”
Tom froze, the Lasso tightening slightly as if sensing his reluctance. “I-I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he stammered. “Talking about them—even one—could…” He trailed off, panic flickering in his eyes.
Diana’s tone softened slightly, though her conviction didn’t waver. “Tom, you’ve already said that you’re not entirely certain which parts of your knowledge are fact and which are fiction in this world. The rules here might not be the same as in your own. It’s possible that speaking a name won’t have the consequences you fear.” She leaned forward slightly, her voice steady and reassuring. “But we can’t know that unless we take careful, measured steps to find out.”
Her gaze held his, gentle but unwavering. “This is why we’re here—to help you navigate this and understand what’s safe and what isn’t. If you truly believe a name will draw attention, I won’t force you. But are you certain it’s not just fear of the unknown holding you back?”
Diana then glanced at Bruce, who stood silently by the fireplace. His jaw was tight, his arms crossed, and the furrow in his brow made his displeasure clear. He hadn’t spoken yet, but his disapproval hung heavy in the room. Diana met his gaze directly, her tone firm but not combative. “We have to define his limits, Bruce. We can’t rely on fear and speculation alone to guide us. If we don’t understand what he can safely share, we’ll never know how to help him—or how to protect him from what he fears.”
Bruce’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze shifting briefly to Tom before returning to Diana. There was tension in his silence, but he didn’t argue, though it was clear he wasn’t pleased with her approach. Diana took the lack of protest as tacit acknowledgment and turned back to Tom. “I need you to trust us, Tom. We won’t push you into danger, but we can’t let fear keep you silent when knowledge might mean the difference between safety and disaster.”
Tom glanced between them, torn between his anxiety and the logic in Diana’s words. “I’ll try,” he said hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper.
His mouth opened against his will, his voice trembling as he began. “There’s one… called—”
The air in the room grew heavier, the warm light dimming as shadows seemed to deepen unnaturally. A faint hum, low and bone-deep, vibrated through the space, crawling up their spines. The fire in the hearth flickered violently, its flames briefly turning an eerie shade of black. The temperature plummeted, frost forming on the edges of the windowpanes despite the roaring fire.
Tom’s voice choked as his breath hitched, his body trembling. “I can’t—” he managed, his eyes wide with fear, his pulse hammering in his ears. The warmth of the Lasso became oppressive, as though it, too, was reacting to the shifting energy around them.
Diana’s expression sharpened, her warrior instincts flaring as she observed the changes in the room. Her grip on the Lasso tightened, her other hand drifting subtly toward her sword. The golden threads glowed brighter, fighting back the encroaching darkness, but the atmosphere pressed in as though something was watching—waiting.
A faint, guttural whisper slithered through the air, its words indistinct but carrying an unnatural resonance. The shadows along the walls began to writhe, taking on vague, serpentine shapes that pulsed and coiled like living things. Tom staggered back, his knees buckling as the oppressive presence bore down on him. His heart pounded as his vision blurred. “It’s here,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “It’s listening.”
“Tom!” Bruce’s sharp voice cut through the escalating chaos like a blade. He stepped forward, his tone commanding but focused on the young man. “Stop thinking about it. Clear your mind—anything else. Now.”
Tom’s breath hitched, panic flashing in his eyes as he struggled to respond. “I—”
“Listen to me,” Bruce barked, his voice steady and unrelenting. “Think of something else. Focus on anything. A memory. A safe place. Anything that’s not this.”
Tom’s gaze darted wildly around the room, the writhing shadows closing in as the oppressive hum grew louder. He clenched his fists, his trembling body frozen in fear.
“Tom, now!” Bruce’s voice rose, not in anger but in urgency. “Don’t let it in. Focus. Move your thoughts away.”
Tom squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his mind to conjure a memory—anything. The image of his mother’s laugh surfaced, faint but persistent. The smell of morning coffee, the sound of distant birdsong, the soft warmth of sunlight streaming through a window. He clung to it like a lifeline, his breath steadying as the oppressive weight in the room began to lift.
The frost on the windows melted away, and the flames in the hearth steadied, regaining their natural warmth and light. The serpentine shadows recoiled, retreating to the corners of the room before dissipating entirely. The low hum faded, leaving only an eerie silence in its wake.
Bruce’s expression was hard, his jaw tight as he turned to Diana, his voice edged with controlled anger. “This is exactly why I told you to respect his boundaries. He warned us from the beginning that saying too much could draw the wrong kind of attention.”
Diana’s calm demeanor faltered slightly as she met Bruce’s intense gaze. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far,” she said firmly, though her tone held a hint of regret. “We needed to understand the scope of the risks, Bruce. He admitted he wasn’t sure what was true or fiction in his knowledge.”
Bruce took a step closer, his voice low but sharp. “This wasn’t the way to test those limits. You gambled, Diana. And it nearly cost us.”
Diana frowned, her posture straightening. “I believed he could handle it. And we did stop it before it went too far.”
Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “No. We got lucky this time. But if you hadn’t pushed, there wouldn’t have been a risk to begin with. We have to be smarter than this.”
Tom, still trembling, sat back in his chair, watching the exchange with wide eyes. His chest heaved as he tried to steady his breathing, his thoughts racing as the tension in the room simmered. He wanted to speak, to interject, but he couldn’t find the words.
Tom nodded shakily, his hands trembling as he wiped his face. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean—”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Bruce interrupted, his tone resolute. “This wasn’t on you. You warned us, and we didn’t listen. That’s on us.”
Diana stepped closer, her expression softening as she placed a hand gently on Tom’s shoulder. “Bruce is right. This wasn’t your fault. You’re not alone in this, and we’ll ensure this doesn’t happen again.”
Bruce’s eyes lingered on Diana for a moment before his gaze returned to Tom. “From now on only speak about what you feel is safe, and only when absolutely necessary.”
Diana inclined her head, releasing the Lasso and coiling it back at her side. “Agreed. I underestimated the depth of the danger his knowledge poses.”
Tom looked up at both of them, his voice weak but edged with urgency. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Some things… aren’t meant to be spoken of. Ever.”
Diana’s gaze softened, and she placed a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “You’ve endured more than anyone should, Tom. We’ll find a way to help you—but only on terms that don’t endanger you further.”
Tom nodded faintly, still catching his breath. The gravity of his situation weighed heavier than ever, but for the first time, he felt the League beginning to grasp just how precarious his position truly was.
Tom’s shoulders sagged in relief, the tension in his chest loosening slightly. “Thanks,” he murmured, his voice still shaky. “I’ll do my best.”
Bruce glanced at Diana, then back at Tom. “We’ll report what we’ve learned to the Justice League. They need to know the full scope of your situation—not just for their understanding, but to explore every possible avenue of helping you. That includes finding a way to send you home.”
He straightened slightly, his voice taking on a decisive tone. “In the meantime, I’ll contact Zatanna. Whatever it was that nearly manifested here, I want to be certain it’s gone—and that it doesn’t leave any traces behind.”
Diana placed a comforting hand on Tom’s shoulder, her gaze steady and compassionate. “This world may not be your own, but you’re not alone in this. We’ll work together to find answers, no matter how long it takes.”