The Watchtower’s expansive meeting room buzzed with tension. The Justice League, gathered around the circular table, exchanged glances that ranged from curious to concerned. Batman stood at the head of the room, his presence commanding as ever, though the weight of the information he carried seemed to make even him appear more grim than usual.

“This is the second meeting regarding Tom Martin, our interdimensional traveler,” Batman began, his voice low but steady, cutting through the quiet murmur of conversation. “The situation has grown more complicated. The information I’ve both gathered and received warrants immediate attention. Let’s start with the missing sixteen hours first uncovered by the Team.”

Several members straightened at this, their expressions hardening. Superman was the first to speak. “The sixteen hours where we were compromised. What have you found?”

Batman’s gaze swept the room before he continued. “Tom Martin has provided new information about what happened during that time. Using Starro-Tech, we were manipulated into carrying out coordinated strikes across the galaxy. Key installations and peacekeeping forces were disabled. The chaos allowed the Light—a coordinated group led by Vandal Savage, Lex Luthor, Klarion, and others—to further their agenda. According to Tom’s intel, these attacks were critical in setting the stage for a future invasion by the Reach.”

A murmur rippled through the room. Wonder Woman frowned, her hands tightening into fists. “We’ve known about the Light, but this level of coordination?”

“The sixteen hours gave them what they needed to manipulate galactic politics and discredit us,” Batman replied. “It’s worse than we thought. They didn’t just aim to harm us—they positioned us as a threat. When the Reach arrives, they’ll frame themselves as saviors to a galaxy destabilized by the Justice League.”

Green Lantern, seated near the far end, leaned forward. “And Tom Martin knows this how?”

Batman’s expression darkened, his tone sharp and deliberate. “This brings us to something unsettling, building on what we’ve already discussed in our previous meeting. According to Tom, our reality—our world—exists as a form of fiction in his. Specifically, it’s part of a televised series, granting him an unusual insight into events before they unfold. His knowledge of our timeline, as well as the intricate plans of the Light, is derived from this series.”

Hawkman scoffed softly. “That’s… difficult to accept, to put it lightly.”

“It’s definitely weird, I’ll give you that,” Flash said, leaning back in his chair. “But let’s be real—stranger things have happened. We’re dealing with alternate universes here. Just think of it like he can see the future. Makes it a little less weird… right?” He finished with a shrug, his trademark grin softening the tension in the room.

Batman nodded curtly, continuing. “Tom’s knowledge has been disturbingly accurate. The missing sixteen hours, the Light’s leadership, and their plans all match up with what he’s shared. More concerning is that his information has filled gaps we failed to uncover in five years. The Light’s influence is far deeper than we anticipated—they’ve gone to extraordinary lengths to cover their tracks. This knowledge puts us on the offensive, but it also underscores our failures.”

Superman’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “If this is true, then we’ve endangered not just Earth, but the galaxy.”

“Exactly,” Batman said. “Mitigating the damage and finding proof of our innocence is our next step. We must uncover evidence of the Light’s manipulation and counter their narrative. Tom’s knowledge gives us direction. We’ll start with Cadmus and their cloning programs. If we can tie the Light’s activities to their larger plan, we might begin to repair the damage.”

Wonder Woman’s voice was steady but edged with urgency. “What’s our strategy?”

“I’ve assigned specific tasks,” Batman replied. “Green Lantern, investigate the galactic impacts of the sixteen hours. Superman and Wonder Woman, lead efforts on Earth to connect Cadmus’s activities to the Light. Flash and I will focus on analyzing Reach-related data. Martian Manhunter—” he paused, his gaze shifting to the telepath—“you will assist remotely. Directly accessing Tom’s mind is too great a risk. There are entities and knowledge in his thoughts that we can’t afford you to encounter. Your focus will be on observing without direct contact and coordinating with the Team for intelligence gathering.”

The room grew quieter, a palpable sense of determination settling over the League. Finally, Batman straightened, his gaze shifting slightly. “Now, about Tom Martin himself.”

All eyes turned back to him.

“Tom revealed something unexpected,” Batman said. “A demon-like entity resides within his shadow.”

The reaction was immediate. Murmurs erupted around the table, and Superman’s expression hardened. “A demon? How did we miss that?”

“She’s adept at hiding her presence,” Batman said. “She’s powerful—enough to claim she can stand against any of us. Tom insists she’s bound to him for his protection by the entity that placed him here, a claim she corroborates. However, I’m not taking their word alone. I’ve contacted Zatanna to assess Tom and ensure he hasn’t been compromised further.”

Batman paused before continuing, his voice edged with curiosity. “In the brief interaction I’ve had with her, she doesn’t act like a being of her power and age. She’s… flippant, sarcastic, and far less composed than you’d expect.”

Hawkgirl tilted her head. “Most immortals tend to regress in maturity the longer they live. A strange but consistent pattern.”

Batman nodded. “It’s also possible the link between her and Tom has influenced her behavior. This situation is unprecedented, and we have to account for anomalies.”

Batman glanced around the room, his tone becoming more measured. “Additionally, the demon is teaching Tom magic. While this raises concerns, it’s also giving him tools to protect himself. He may eventually be a candidate to join the Team. Building connections with peers and having a purpose could benefit his mental health and give him a chance to contribute.”

Hawkgirl leaned forward, her expression skeptical. “Do you trust Tom himself?”

Batman’s gaze sharpened. “So far, his actions align with someone trying to help. What matters most is that his knowledge has been accurate. Until proven otherwise, he remains a valuable asset and more importantly someone we must help.”

Diana leaned forward, her voice calm but resolute. “I’d like to remind everyone of the events during my interrogation with the Lasso of Truth. Tom is young—only nineteen. He’s under enormous stress, and we discovered that the catalyst for his arrival here was an attempted suicide. He may have critical information, but at the end of the day, he’s just a young man trying to survive in an unfamiliar world. It’s our responsibility to help him, not just for what he can provide, but because it’s the right thing to do.”

Batman’s gaze met hers, and for a moment, his posture softened ever so slightly. “You’re right. While his information is critical, Tom’s well-being is just as important. That’s why we’ll ensure his safety and provide the resources he needs to navigate this.”

The League exchanged glances, the weight of the discussion settling in the room. Finally, Superman nodded. “Agreed. We’ll proceed with caution but compassion. Let’s focus on the tasks at hand and ensure we’re prepared for what’s to come.”

Batman nodded, his voice firm as he concluded the meeting. “Everyone knows their assignments. This meeting is adjourned.”

As the League members began to disperse, Batman lingered at the head of the table, his eyes fixed on the data scrolling across the monitor. The room grew quiet, the faint hum of the Watchtower’s systems filling the void left by the departing team. His jaw tightened, his hands gripping the edge of the table as his thoughts churned.

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For nearly five years, they had been in the dark, playing a dangerous game of catch-up. The League had prided itself on being prepared, on staying one step ahead of their enemies, but the Light had outmaneuvered them at every turn. The fact that it had taken an interdimensional traveler—a nineteen-year-old, no less—to expose the full extent of their manipulation burned in his chest. Batman wasn’t used to failure, and the realization stung more than he wanted to admit.

How did I miss this? he thought bitterly. How did we miss this?

His eyes flicked over the monitor, the intricate web of connections Tom had laid out now overlaid with his own research. It was all there—pieces that should have been glaringly obvious, yet he and the League had failed to see them. Only after Tom had handed him the information had the pattern become clear. Batman clenched his fists, his mind flashing back to that moment in the Batcave when Tom had first presented his findings.

He remembered the surge of clarity that hit him as he read through the notes, the way his mind seemed to sharpen as if a fog had lifted. It wasn’t just that the pieces fit—it was as though he hadn’t even realized the puzzle existed until Tom pointed it out. A mental block, he thought grimly. Something subtle, insidious. How much of that was the Light’s doing?

The idea unsettled him. For all his discipline and meticulous preparation, he hadn’t been immune. The Light’s reach extended farther than he’d anticipated—farther than any of them had anticipated. And it terrified him to think how much worse it could have been if Tom hadn’t arrived when he did.

Batman exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus. Anger and guilt wouldn’t solve anything. What mattered now was action. They finally had a chance to turn the tide, to go on the offensive and dismantle the Light’s plans piece by piece. But the question that gnawed at him was whether they were already too late.

His gaze shifted to the schematics of Cadmus, the Reach, and the timeline Tom had laid out. He let out a low, almost inaudible growl of frustration. We’re years behind. Years of damage, manipulation, and lies. Can we even undo what’s already been done?

Despite the doubts, there was no room for hesitation. Batman straightened, his resolve hardening. They didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on past failures. Every second counted now, and every step forward had to be deliberate, calculated. They couldn’t afford to make mistakes—not with stakes this high.

As he stared at the monitor, one last thought lingered in his mind. This fog… this block. If it affected me, how many others have been compromised? What else have we missed?

Batman closed his eyes briefly, his lips tightening into a grim line. When they faced the Light next, it wouldn’t be from the shadows. This time, the League would strike first. But beneath his determination, a small, unshakable question remained: What else don’t I see?

Batman’s cape swirled behind him as he strode out of the room, the shadows of the Watchtower enveloping him. The battle was far from over, and he wouldn’t allow failure—not again, and not when so much was at stake.

His boots echoed softly in the hallway as he made his way toward Green Arrow’s quarters. Oliver Queen hadn’t been the same since the truth about Roy Harper was revealed. The discovery that the young hero he had trained and trusted was a clone had cut deep, and the subsequent failure to locate the real Roy had only compounded the guilt and frustration weighing on him. Batman could see it in the way Oliver carried himself—his confidence tinged with a shadow of doubt, his usually sharp focus dulled by lingering regret.

Batman’s jaw tightened as his thoughts turned to the information Tom had given him. For years, the League had scoured every lead, turned over every stone, but the Light had been too careful, too precise in covering their tracks. It wasn’t until Tom handed him that piece of the puzzle that the fog lifted, revealing a path they hadn’t considered. The real Roy Harper was alive, and now they had the means to find him.

But Batman knew this wasn’t going to be a simple reunion. The condition they would likely find Roy in—physically, mentally, emotionally—would be a stark reality to confront. The Light didn’t leave loose ends, and if they had kept Roy alive all these years, it wasn’t out of kindness.

Oliver has to be ready, Batman thought grimly. He needs to know what to expect.

As much as he disliked delaying action, this was a conversation that couldn’t be rushed. Green Arrow deserved to hear the truth, all of it, so he could prepare himself for what they might find. Batman’s steps quickened, his mind already turning over the logistics of the rescue mission and how best to break the news.

This was more than just another mission. For Oliver—and for Roy—this was about closure, redemption, and reclaiming what had been stolen from them. Batman only hoped they weren’t too late.

----------------------------------------

The air in Klarion's domain shimmered with an uneasy stillness. His favorite dimension—a swirling vortex of color and chaos—seemed muted, as though someone had draped a damp cloth over its wild cacophony. He floated lazily in the middle of the storm, his legs crossed, and Teekl curled up on his lap. The cat’s glowing red eyes were half-closed, but Klarion’s own burned with irritation.

"This isn’t right," Klarion muttered, his voice cutting through the unnatural silence. "It’s... too still."

Teekl purred lowly, as if in agreement, her tail twitching against his leg. Klarion’s fingers drummed against her sleek fur, his mind racing. The chaos that had been bubbling so delightfully just days before—the uncertainty, the tension, the glorious fun—had thinned into something pitiful. Predictable. Klarion hated predictable.

He flicked a hand, and the dimensions shifted around him like smoke. In an instant, he was standing in a vast, twisted mirror of Earth—a warped version of Gotham City where gravity bent in loops and the laws of physics operated on whim alone. Klarion grinned momentarily at the sight of a twisted skyscraper collapsing upwards, but his joy faded as quickly as it had come.

The threads of chaos were unraveling. Slowly but surely, the delicate web of uncertainty and disorder the Light had so carefully cultivated was falling apart. Klarion scowled, his sharp teeth glinting as he spoke aloud to no one in particular.

"This was supposed to be fun," he spat, his voice echoing through the distorted streets. "All that beautiful chaos, all that delicious confusion... and now it’s boring. Dull! Stagnant!"

Teekl yowled softly, leaping from his arms to prowl in front of him. Klarion’s gaze sharpened, his fingers curling into fists as he paced. "The Light promised me chaos. Disorder. They promised me a playground! And now something’s ruined it. Something has tipped the balance—" He stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowing. "—or someone."

Klarion waved a hand, summoning a portal of swirling darkness. He stepped through it with an air of impatience, emerging into the dim chamber where the Light held their secretive meetings. The long table, the shadowed figures, the ever-present aura of conspiratorial arrogance—Klarion usually found it amusing. But now? Now, it only annoyed him.

"Which one of you idiots let the League in on our fun?" he snarled, his voice slicing through the room like a blade.

Vandal Savage’s shadowed form turned toward him, his voice as calm and deliberate as ever. "Klarion. This isn’t the time for theatrics."

"Not the time?!" Klarion’s eyes glowed brighter, his fury barely contained. "Do you have any idea what’s happening out there? The League knows something—something big! Our plans, our moves, they’re unraveling because of it! How am I supposed to enjoy myself when everything is falling apart?"

Ra’s al Ghul’s measured voice cut through the tension. "The League has always been a threat. We are addressing the situation."

Another voice, low and clipped, spoke from the shadows—a calculating tone that belonged to Lex Luthor. "It’s worse than just a threat. It appears some members of the League have broken through the mental blocks we’ve carefully constructed. They’ve started connecting the dots—our dots.

Klarion froze for a moment, his expression shifting to one of genuine disbelief before his anger bubbled back to the surface. "The blocks are breaking?" His voice was sharp, incredulous. "How? Those were beautifully crafted! Who’s responsible for this mess?"

"The cause is unclear," Savage said, his tone devoid of emotion. "But it is contained. For now."

"Contained?!" Klarion sneered, his hands twitching with restless energy. "You think this is contained? It’s chaos out there—" He stopped, his eyes narrowing as an unsettling grin spread across his face. "Actually, no. It’s not chaos. It’s… balance. Predictable, boring balance. Someone’s ruining my fun."

Teekl padded back to his side, rubbing against his leg. Klarion reached down to stroke her fur, his expression darkening further. "And when I find out who, I’m going to rip it apart."

The shadows around him seemed to writhe in anticipation, responding to the chaotic energy he exuded. Klarion’s smile returned, sharp and predatory. He stepped back into the swirling portal he’d created, Teekl at his heels.

"Enjoy cleaning up your mess," he called over his shoulder, his tone dripping with disdain. "I’ve got some hunting to do."

The portal closed behind him, leaving the chamber in silence. Back in his dimension, Klarion stood amidst the swirling chaos, his eyes glowing with determination. He stretched his senses outward, searching for the disturbance that had dared to interfere with his playground.

"I’ll find you," he whispered, his grin widening. "And when I do, we’ll see just how much fun you can handle."

Teekl purred, her eyes glowing in the dim light. The hunt had begun.