Second day after the attack on the Hawaiian Islands — Meanwhile, with the Justice League and the Titans
In the aftermath of the attack on Hawaii, many Western nations called it a victory.
News anchors looped the same footage, showing the Great Tide rising like judgment over Hawaii—then folding in on itself as it struck the AEGIS shield, the corrupted water forced into another layer of reality. The Vindicators were being praised as humanity's new answer to terror, and LexCorp's PR machine pushed the same line on every screen, in every language money could buy,
'AEGIS saved the islands.'
'The Vindicators saved the people.'
On the League and Titans' side, no one celebrated.
Not because of the PR narrative that framed the Vindicators as more effective than the League and Titans. They did not have the luxury to care, and they did not have the luxury to feel relieved.
They'd seen the truth up close. The shield had held… but it hadn't been perfect. The enemy had probed the anchors, tested evacuation lanes, timed their responses—then withdrawn before anyone could retaliate.
But one thing became clear; the ocean had still answered someone's command, and this had been a test, not a full assault.
After the attack, the League and Titans split into teams and worked on multiple fronts. Some stabilized the political fallout. Some kept evacuation corridors secure. Others cleansed what had seeped into the islands after A.R.G.U.S. vented the Tide's water to keep the AEGIS anchors from collapsing.
Besides those transported to the US, the UN, at the League's recommendation, kept the rest of evacuated Hawaiians temporarily housed in neighboring countries. No one wanted to fly civilians back until they were sure another wave would not rise out of nowhere and finish what the first had started.
On Oahu, the containment team worked the ground itself. Corrupted water had flooded inland and left behind an unfamiliar magical taint. They could isolate it. Suppress it. Starve it of open ground.
Yet they still couldn't heal it.
The magic division still could not unravel the corruption's nature. They could only slow it, bind it, and keep it from spreading. The only forces that reliably damaged it were Shazam's lightning and the Yellow Lanterns' beams, and both came with ugly limits. Shazam could purge the corruption, but each strike drained his stamina and scorched the land, so they held him back. They needed to heal the islands, not raze them. The Lanterns, drawing on their experience battling the Great Tide, could burn it out, but the power draw was brutal and unsustainable.
So they worked in waves—Lanterns striking, sorcerers weaving a possible counter-spellwork, and Cheetah feeding God Ki into the latticework so it wouldn't collapse under the strain.
At first, it was trial and error. Worse, when they hit the corruption too hard right after the battle, it rebounded—surging as if it had fed on the remnants of their own energy, shocking them just when they thought they had contained it. That forced a change in tactics. They stopped trying to crush it and started trying to counter it—match its "frequency," bleed it down slowly, and deny it a chance to adapt and feed on their power.
By dawn of the second day, they'd found a rhythm that barely worked—enough to cleanse without triggering another violent surge. The power draw was still punishing, but no longer catastrophic. And still the land resisted like a wound that refused to close, because the corruption wasn't only on the surface anymore.
It had seeped into the ley lines beneath the soil.
By evening, everyone looked exhausted, but the resurgence had finally begun to slow. The corruption thinned, turning faint like smoke being pulled apart.
Yet they didn't celebrate that either.
They regrouped through an encrypted briefing—some in person at the League's temporary operations hub on Oahu, others joining remotely from scattered stations. The structure of their briefing stayed the same, expanding on status, patterns, threat assessment and next steps.
But tonight carried extra weight.
While they fought to keep the real-world damage contained, LexCorp's narrative was spreading like a second infection.
Batman's voice cut through the channel. "Report."
A screen lit in front of him as the first updates rolled in. Batman sat on-site in Hawaii with Cheetah, Zatanna, John Constantine, Superman, Hal Jordan, and Laira Omoto, while the rest checked in from wherever the work had dragged them.
"The evacuation zones remain stable," Dinah Lance said. She was cross-legged in a hotel room in Malaysia—hair damp from a rushed shower, wrapped in a plush bathrobe, a glass of scotch in hand. "Temporary housing agreements are holding. People here are even rallying to help." Her expression tightened. "But if this drags past a few days, political strain is bound to spike. This can't be a long-term plan."
On a private, encrypted feed that joined the meeting, General Swanwick appeared hard-lit and impatient. "Can we start moving evacuees back? The island chain survived. AEGIS held."
Zatanna shook her head immediately. "Not yet. Corruption seeped into the islands' ley lines when A.R.G.U.S. vented the Tide's water to reduce pressure on the anchors. We're still treating it—and monitoring for resurgence."
Constantine's rough voice followed. "It'd be premature, General. We contained it to a zone, but we can't guarantee a full reversal yet. Thankfully, the corruption that reached the island is light compared to the main taint of the Great Tide." He paused, then let the next line drop like a stone. "Right now, neither science nor our current system of magic is a true countermeasure—at least not yet."
Swanwick's jaw worked. "How long do you need?"
"Three more days," Constantine said. "At minimum. We've seen this corruption surge when disturbed. We've driven it down, sure—but we don't know if it's gone. If you send people back and it flares again, you won't get a second clean evacuation." His eyes narrowed. "You'll get bodies."
Silence fell over the meeting.
Swanwick nodded once, and leaned back—choosing to listen rather than argue.
J'onn spoke next, addressing the monitoring teams. "The identified Pacific formation zones are silent. They're showing no pressure anomalies and no energy signatures—nothing that matches the last two Tides. They've gone dormant."
The analyst behind him looked like they wanted to punch a wall. "We now know, with certainty, where about seven formation points are," they said, keeping their voice even. "Yet we still can't stop them." They exhaled hard. "But the data from Hawaii lets us upgrade the WayneTech satellites. With it, we'll match LexCorp's Planet Watch network, and we might even surpass it. If another Tide begins to form, we'll detect it first."
Green Arrow leaned forward on his remote feed from the Stargate island. "Timeline for the upgrade?"
"R&D is swamped on countermeasures projects," the analyst admitted, "but one of Mr. Orach's R&D teams—Dr. Victor Fries' Hyperdrive division—volunteered support. With their prototype shuttle, we can implement in three days."
Relief flickered through the channel—then died under the next question.
"That's good for threat detection," Green Arrow said. "But what about stopping it? We contained the corruption on Oahu, but we still don't have a proper solution to fight the Great Tide. Any update from Cyborg and WayneTech? He's back stateside, right?"
Batman gave a small nod. "He's back and has already met with the team. But they need time." His gaze hardened. "This time's corruption is more refined than Taiwan's—stronger."
He let the last word hang, letting the implication settle.
"And smarter."
In a way, it was the worst kind of news, because it widened the unknowns. The enemy was learning. Adapting. And the League was being forced to admit—out loud—how many gaps still existed in their assessment.
Silence settled over the meeting.
Then Cheetah leaned back with a calm expression. "This was always going to be a prolonged campaign." Her eyes moved across the feeds. "Rushing R&D won't create miracles. We should address what we can control."
She nodded—subtly—toward Batgirl.
Batgirl understood the cue, leaned forward, fingers steepled. "We can't keep improvising with the same numbers. The first time, we saved millions because we moved fast. The second time, we had AEGIS—and still struggled to contain the corrupted waters."
She tapped her terminal. Multiple feeds filled the screens, showing the forward team striking the Tide in the Pacific—especially Shazam's lightning tearing through it—and the evacuation machine running, showing stable portals, UN airlifts, and civilians streaming toward both.
Then the footage changed.
The corrupted waters churned and moved with intent—splitting, feinting, slamming different AEGIS anchors again and again like a predator stress-testing a cage.
"It's clear we underestimated the enemy," Batgirl said. "They don't just possess the means to generate massive Tides. They have the ability to control the corruption and, by extension, the Tides."
Copied AEGIS load data rose beside the footage like a heartbeat chart. "LexCorp can spin whatever story it wants," she added. "If the enemy had sustained the assault, AEGIS would have failed."
Another clip expanded—Cyborg and Blue Beetle fighting off a surge of corrupted water vented into an evacuation sector to reduce anchor load… only for the enemy to seize control and drive it toward civilians.
Batgirl's jaw tightened. "I hate to admit it, but the Vindicators joining our efforts did buy us time. But, next time we can't depend on luck. We need more manpower."
Miss Martian nodded. "Yes. That will give us better coverage. Only then can we operate in multiple theaters without leaving gaps."
The expressions of all champions sharpened at that—because the League had known this day was coming. Hawkman and Hawkgirl were gone from their ranks after their betrayal during the Thanagarian invasion, buried in the battlefield's sands and condemned to eternal suffering by a Higher Realm item Raven had used on them. And the other universe had shown the League what a larger, organized League force could look like.
They had hoped for more time to expand.
But the rising unknowns made it clear they did not have it.
General Swanwick's voice cut in again. "If that's the case, have you considered approaching the Vindicators?"
Superman sighed and shook his head—saying nothing, because there was nothing safe to say. The Titans' experience in the Vega System had proven Orach's warning wasn't paranoia. They couldn't afford to trust a Kryptonian who simply appeared. Not with the risk of the Tuffle Gene hanging over every unknown.
And the fact that the Vindicators operated under A.R.G.U.S.—and more likely LexCorp's leash—didn't help. Under different circumstances, the League would have already been at LexCorp's doors demanding answers.
Batgirl answered instead, voice cold. "With all due respect, General—those 'Vindicators' can be considered after they submit to a full genetic examination under our direct supervision." She didn't soften. "I'll give them credit for helping. But our stance is simple. We do not trust them."
She wasn't alone. The Titans' faces on Swanwick's screen were grim, unblinking agreement. Several League members nodded without speaking.
Swanwick opened his mouth, saw the room, and closed it.
Batman didn't let it turn into an argument. He simply asked, "Which candidates do you have in mind?"
Batgirl tapped her terminal again.
Profiles flickered to life on the screens showing clips, satellite angles, stabilized phone videos showing new heroes mid-rescue, mid-fight, mid-instinctive action.
"Over the past few days, we've reviewed candidates who were already on our radar," Batgirl said. "We've also noticed a broader shift over the past few weeks. New heroes have been emerging." She held the room's attention. "Some are unstable. Some are outright dangerous. But some are already choosing to help and make a difference. We'll approach those first."
Hal Jordan started to sigh. "Great. After Black Adam, now we get a flood of new metas—"
A sharp cough cut him off.
Laira Omoto's glare shut him down. Hal's face twitched, then he fell silent.
Batgirl highlighted three files. "Here are the fast-track candidates who will go through the basics with us Titans before joining the League. First, Ice. A cryokinetic—disciplined and combat-capable. Second, Fire. A green-flame wielder, an experienced fighter, with strong control and wide-area potential. Third, Vixen—artifact-based mystical power." She gestured toward Zatanna. "Since the prospect uses mystical power, I also asked Zatanna to review her footage."
Zatanna nodded. "It's a totem. Ancient mysticism, not our usual framework. It's likely a lineage-bound artifact. Based on my research and the data Batgirl shared from the other universe, she channels the animal kingdom through it, similar to Beast Boy in a way." Her expression tightened. "But unlike Beast Boy, she doesn't need to transform to channel that power. It's just as dangerous if mishandled. I'll approach her."
Batgirl switched the screen. "Besides them, we're also thinking about candidates to be nurtured through the Titans program. China has already consolidated its awakened into the Great Ten, their response to the Justice League. Recruiting there risks an international incident." Her tone hardened. "But other regions are different. We have independent actors with no oversight. There's risk… but also opportunity."
New clips rolled on the screen, showing a crimson-energy lightning covered soldier in Moscow, storm-and-river twins in São Paulo, and in India—gold in Delhi, fire in Mumbai, and a shadowed earth-and-darkness wielder in Bangalore.
"The three in India—Solstice, Agni, Kala-Dhara—are among the newly emerged heroes," Batgirl said. "They've mostly operated independently. Other than Solstice and Agni, we don't have much on the third—enough that I'd even say he might not have existed in the other universe." She paused, letting that implication hang. "Overall, they're doing good work. But we recently detected a meeting between them. For now, it's speculation, but there's a high likelihood they intend to form a team."
The discussion that followed was short, because the conclusion was obvious.
Numbers mattered. Speed mattered. Waiting was a luxury.
Batman looked around once, then made the decision. "Alright. We'll dispatch outreach teams—two-person units. They'll approach the candidates discreetly, assess them first, then extend the invitation."
His eyes flicked to Batgirl. "I assume you already have a plan."
Batgirl nodded once and pulled up the outreach plan. "First wave: Ice, Fire, Vixen, the Wonder Twins, and the trio from India—Solstice, Agni, and Kala-Dhara." She didn't hesitate. "Flash and I will approach Ice and Fire. Lantern John and Zatanna will approach Vixen. Miss Martian and Black Canary will approach the Wonder Twins. Beast Boy and Blue Beetle will make contact in India."
The League members nodded in agreement with the plan. Even as they realized recruitment right now wasn't just strategy, it was responsibility. It meant pulling new people into a war they didn't understand yet.
But no one objected.
Not after Taiwan.
Not after Hawaii.
Batman's eyes were cold, but his voice softened by a fraction. "We're done being outnumbered. We build the next generation. Starting tonight."
Across the screens, heads nodded. The meeting broke, plans forming even as fatigue pulled at everyone's bones.
The world was changing.
The League intended to change with it.
India
While the Justice League and Titans were deep in their encrypted debrief, Priya initiated a group video call late in the evening.
Kiran answered on the second ring, hair still damp, an oversized T-shirt slipping off one shoulder. Priya was already smiling as if this were a sleepover, not the prelude to a world crisis. Arjun joined last, eyes flat with fatigue after a long day's work.
For the first hour, it was mostly Priya and Kiran talking over each other—school, work, rumors, and the way the whole country had decided to turn them into symbols of pride. Priya teased, and Kiran laughed more than she expected. Arjun stared at the screen with the quiet misery of someone reconsidering whether he should mute this group chat.
Eventually, they ran out of gossip and their attention shifted to the main topic at hand.
Priya leaned closer, her expression sharpening into something calmer, more focused. "Alright," she said. "Let's get serious, or someone's going to lose their mind." She smirked and flicked a subtle glance at Arjun before continuing. "Did either of you notice anything weird today? Anything you felt?"
Kiran hesitated, then shook her head. "No. Nothing."
Arjun's voice was low. "Same."
Priya nodded once. "Good. Then we plan—"
Suddenly Kiran jerked as if someone had tugged an invisible cord inside her chest.
The warmth in her core tightened into an agitated knot. Her senses, tied to her power, suddenly pulled hard in one direction.
South.
Her brows drew together, confusion flashing across her face before she could hide it.
Priya saw it instantly. The playfulness vanished, her eyes narrowed. "Kiran?" Her voice softened. "What is it?"
"I… I don't know." Kiran's expression tightened into a frown. "Something feels off. No—more like…" Her gaze drifted past the screen. She closed her eyes and reached for the warmth inside her, trying to understand what it was trying to tell her. Then she opened her eyes. "…something's coming."
On-screen, Priya went still while Arjun moved.
He lowered his phone, pressed his palm to the floor, and closed his eyes. His breathing slowed.
A beat later, his eyes snapped open—wide.
"South. From the ocean," he said, voice suddenly sharp. "It's intermittent, but something's stirring out there."
The three of them stared at each other through the call, the silence suddenly heavy.
Priya's expression turned grim. "You can't mean… a Great Tide."
"It's possible," Arjun said, forcing himself to think as he pulled back his senses. "But from here, I'm only catching faint fluctuations—nothing clean, nothing definite. It could be a natural occurrence, and we could be reading too much into it."
"If it's really a Great Tide," Kiran asked, trying to keep her voice steady, "then what do we do?"
Priya inhaled once—slow, deliberate—and took control of the conversation.
"Relax, Kiran." Her tone was calm and firm, without being harsh. "Panic won't help anyone. And we don't even know there's an attack yet. Arjun's right—it could be something else and we might be reading too much into it."
Kiran startled at the words and then realizing the sharpness of her own breathing couldn't help but, close her eyes and forced herself to inhale. One breath. Then another. The knot in her chest didn't loosen, but it stopped overwhelm her senses.
"Thanks," she said quietly, calming down.
When her eyes opened again, the fear in them had hardened into resolve. "But we still need to make sure."
"Kanyakumari," Arjun breathed, like the word had been waiting behind his teeth. "The southernmost tip. If I go there, I can extend my senses deeper into the Indian Ocean. Get a real read."
Priya didn't hesitate and chimed in. "You're not going alone."
Flames whispered up around her shoulders. "Let's treat this like the worst-case and move together. We can support each other once we arrive there. I can fly there. It'll drain me, but I can make it by late morning."
She turned her gaze to Kiran through the screen. "What about you, Kiran?"
Kiran's golden energy flared faintly, a soft halo at the edges of her camera frame. "I can fly now," she said. "I was inspired by you, and I managed to achieve stable flight. But it's still not perfect, and I can't maintain it for long. Still, I can get there." Her mouth tightened. "I just need to leave a note for my parents."
Arjun's jaw clenched. "I don't like flying," he admitted. "But I have my own way." He met their eyes. "I'll send you my location once I arrive."
Priya nodded. Kiran nodded.
"Got it," Priya said.
"Got it," Kiran echoed.
The call ended.
They forced themselves to sleep after that, only to prepare for what was to come at dawn.
Near first light, Kiran left a note where her parents would see it, then climbed to the rooftop.
Delhi below was still half-asleep, muffled in pale darkness and distant horns. Kiran drew a single steadying breath.
Then the golden energy surged.
It spilled over her skin like a living veil of golden light and lifted her from the rooftop—slow at first, unsteady, straining against gravity—then faster as she found the balance. She treated the flight like training, correcting in real time with every wobble and adjustment. Higher and higher she rose, clearing the buildings, leaving the sleeping streets behind, and angled south.
A streak of gold cut across the night like a comet.
Third Day — Afternoon — New Delhi Airport
A WayneTech private plane touched down with barely a jolt. The engines still whined as the staircase lowered.
Gar stumbled out first, squinting into the light and rubbing his eyes. "God," he groaned, "I'm still sleepy."
Jaime Reyes followed, rolling his shoulders. "I feel you, hermano." He rubbed his temple, then forced his expression into something sharper. "But if we can recruit the three in India, the burden spreads out. So cheer up. Let's move."
Gar grabbed his bag with a dramatic sigh. "Yeah. That's what I keep telling myself." He glanced toward the open sky. "Let's go meet our possible new teammates."
"Wait."
Jaime froze.
Gar blinked. "What?"
Jaime's eyes unfocused for a beat. His scarab armor crept over his skin in a smooth ripple, HUD data lighting behind his gaze. Confusion tightened his face.
"They're… not where they were," he murmured. "All three signals. Moving. Converging."
His eyes narrowed, then he tried the name carefully. "Kanyakumari. The southernmost tip of India. Hope I'm saying that right. That's where they're heading."
Gar's face twitched. "You've got to be kidding me."
"I don't think so." Jaime's mouth quirked. "But it might actually help us. We were supposed to assess them before contact. If they're converging, it's probably for a reason. Possibly for a mission. That gives us a clear look at how they operate."
Gar exhaled a short laugh. "Fine. You're right." He straightened. "Then let's go."
Jaime nodded.
Gar shifted mid-stride, transforming until a bird launched into the air. Jaime rose beside him on scarab thrusters.
Two Titans cut south across the sky.
Kanyakumari
The city sat at the tip of the subcontinent where three bodies of water met: the Bay of Bengal, the Arabian Sea, and the Indian Ocean. A place of pilgrimage. A place where people came to stand at the edge of the land and feel small in a comforting way.
Yet today, the ocean seemed too calm—so calm it did not feel comforting.
By late morning, the three young champions had arrived.
Kiran barely managed a rooftop landing before her power gave out. She crouched there, lungs burning, forcing air back into her body until her strength returned. Later, she met up with Priya and Arjun, who were already waiting.
They grabbed breakfast together. They ate, recovered their stamina, and spoke little. Then they went to the beach.
Now, with the sun climbing and the light turning hard, Arjun sat cross-legged in the sand, eyes closed, both palms pressed to the ground. His senses stretched outward—further, further—threading into the Indian Ocean like invisible roots.
Minutes passed.
His brow tightened.
He felt intermittent fluctuations—small, inconsistent shifts deep underwater—but he still couldn't find a pattern he could trust.
Still… he could feel it.
The ocean was stirring.
"So?" Priya asked at last, one eyebrow arched. She tried to sound casual, and only half pulled it off. "Anything?"
She gestured at the shoreline with exaggerated disappointment. "Don't get me wrong. It's a beautiful beach. But I didn't bring a swimsuit, and there's zero eye candy. Besides, I only took one day off work."
Arjun opened his eyes, pensive. "I don't know," he admitted. "There's no clear pattern. All I can say is something is moving down there." His gaze flicked to the horizon. "It could be natural."
Priya pinched the bridge of her nose. "That is… incredibly unhelpful."
"It means we might've been wrong," Kiran murmured.
She tried to sound relieved but, failed for her face said it all.
Priya's mouth curved into a wry smile. "Kiran—has anyone ever told you you're terrible at lying?"
Kiran blinked.
Priya nodded toward her face. "You're still feeling it, aren't you? That off feeling. Like something's about to happen."
Kiran's shoulders sagged. "Yeah," she admitted. "Sorry. I don't mean to be vague."
"Don't be." Priya shook her head, gaze drifting back to the ocean. "Considering where your power came from…" She exhaled. "We should err on the side of caution."
She pulled out her phone and started typing fast—an extended leave notice, a preemptive and practical action. "Your intuition might be something we can't afford to ignore."
Arjun set his palms back into the sand and closed his eyes again. "Agreed. There's no harm in staying." His voice went dry. "Let's call it a bonding outing."
Priya snorted. "You know, grumpy, you can say something nice once in a while."
Arjun didn't respond. He simply sank deeper into concentration, refusing to take the bait.
Priya winked at Kiran—quick, reassuring.
Kiran found herself smiling despite the anxiety in her. They'd only met recently. They were still strangers in half a dozen ways—three personalities that didn't fit neatly.
But they were here.
They believed her.
And for the first time since the anxiety had begun to grow roots inside her, the knot in her chest loosened—just a fraction.
Kiran drew a breath and stared at the horizon, letting the wind off the sea brush her face.
"Please let me be wrong," she thought.
Almost like a prayer.
Around the same time — out in space above the Atlantic Ocean
Planet Watch registered a faint distortion—barely more than a tremor in the data.
After Hawaii, LexCorp rebuilt the network's sensitivity profile, increasing sensor responsiveness to the resonance signature that appeared before the ocean moved.
So when Planet Watch caught the trace, it did not treat it as noise.
Filters tightened automatically. Across the orbital array, systems synchronized in sequence—one satellite after another lighting up as they triangulated. The distortion sharpened, held, then deepened.
A warning shot out to the D.O.D. and A.R.G.U.S. monitoring stations.
United States — night — Amanda Waller's home
A tablet on the nightstand erupted into a piercing alarm.
Amanda Waller's eyes snapped open instantly. She didn't fumble, didn't hesitate—her hand was already on the device and killed the alarm with one tap and read the first telemetry without blinking. The moment the initial telemetry populated, her expression hardened.
Her encrypted phone rang immediately afterward.
She answered on the first buzz.
"Ma'am," a steady voice said the instant the line connected. "Apologies for waking you. We've got a possible event. I thought you should know."
"You did the right thing, Captain." Waller swung her legs off the bed and hit speaker as she moved, already moving to the bathroom. "So it's an Atlantic ping?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Understood. Begin isolating the formation points. We may not be able to neutralize them yet, but mapping the geometry gives us targets the moment we do have a countermeasure. I want coordinates, patterns, and confidence levels. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am. We're already running triangulation."
Waller splashed water onto her face, dried it off, and kept moving. She strode into the walk-in closet, yanked open her wardrobe, and said, "Status of Alpha Team?"
A pause stretched long enough to make Waller frown.
"Ma'am… about that. The Vindicators… they—"
"They what?" Waller's voice sharpened. "Stop stalling. Where are my assets?"
"They were notified," the captain said carefully, "but the response may be delayed. Agent Garrett and Agent Julian are ready to deploy. The remaining three are in their quarters, asleep. Apparently, they slipped out again in disguise to have some fun, and—somehow—they found a way to get inebriated."
Silence fell.
Then Waller's voice dropped into something colder than anger. "You're telling me our Kryptonians are drunk."
"…Yes, ma'am. I don't know how."
Waller's expression turned ugly for a heartbeat—then she buried it. Rage was a luxury. She did not have time for it.
"Let me handle them," she said. "Proceed with the planned response. Keep me updated, especially once you confirm trajectory and projected landfall. I want live updates, not summaries."
"Yes, ma'am."
The call ended.
Waller stepped back into her bedroom mid-change, grabbed the tablet, and opened an encrypted control suite buried behind layers of biometrics and an iris scan. A clean interface filled the screen showing vitals, location locks and readiness states.
The Vindicators' profiles were all flagged with the same warning.
[Nano-Chip Firmware Status: OVERRIDE ACTIVE (Localized Loop/AUTH: ALPHA-01)]
Waller's eyes narrowed.
"Clever girl," she muttered.
ALPHA-01 wasn't random. It was a personal signature—Veronica. Their leader. Smart enough to find the tolerance parameters, smart enough to balance solar dampening just right, smart enough to smuggle the team back inside and keep them functional enough to break rules.
But, Waller didn't want clever, rebellious brats.
She wanted weapons that fired on command.
A bright red prompt waited at the bottom of the interface.
[FORCE REBOOT: OVERRIDE SYSTEM LOOP]
[Are you sure?]
[Yes]/[No]
Her finger hovered for half a second.
"Party's over," she said, voice flat. "You little brats."
She tapped Yes.
Then she issued deployment orders with the same calm finality—packed her devices, sealed her briefcase, and was out the door before most people would've managed to fully wake.
~20 minutes later — D.O.D. Command Center
The command floor was already boiling when Waller arrived—screens alive, officers moving fast, a real-time model of the Atlantic distortion expanding as live updates poured in.
General Swanwick and General Lane stood at the center, speaking to Europe's leadership across a wall of live feeds. France, Spain, Portugal, and Ireland were represented, with the U.K. Prime Minister present to mediate and coordinate.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Swanwick said, voice controlled, "I understand your situation. But panicking is of no use."
"Ha. Easier said than done, General," the Irish Taoiseach snapped, hands clenched hard enough to whiten. "You don't have a monstrous Tide heading for your shores."
The distortion had already crossed the threshold. It was confirmed that another Great Tide was on the rise, swelling fast, its trajectory converging on Europe's western edge. Naval units in the Bay of Biscay were reporting abnormal surges. Planet Watch telemetry backed it up. The numbers were narrowing by the minute.
"General," the French President cut in, sharp and tense, "our assets in the Bay of Biscay report the Tide is accelerating. Combining their reports with Planet Watch, we have—what—three to four hours?"
"Less than three," Waller said as she walked into frame.
Heads turned on the screens—some startled, some relieved, most simply afraid.
"Less than three hours before the vanguard makes landfall," she continued, giving Swanwick a curt nod before addressing the leaders directly. "I understand your anxiety. This is unprecedented. But the General is right. You do not have the luxury to panic. If you fail to act, you can say goodbye to your political careers."
At her words, several politicians' expressions turned ugly.
"How dare you?"
"Who do you think you are?"
"Amanda Waller, you're crossing the line."
"Enough!" A resounding clap from the UK Prime Minister drew every eye. "Amanda Waller, I suggest you control yourself. We are world leaders." The Prime Minister's gaze locked on Amanda's.
Waller merely smiled and offered a curt bow of apology, though inwardly she disdained them all.
"All right. Let's get back to the situation at hand," Spain's Prime Minister shot back. "We don't have an AEGIS shield along our coastlines. We're essentially defenseless right now. Evacuation is our only option, and moving millions inland from Brest to Biarritz in three hours is impossible."
"Agreed," Swanwick said, cutting in before the call devolved. "Evacuation must begin immediately. But it cannot be the only action. We've contacted the Justice League. They are en route to lend their aid."
The statement landed heavily on the call. Some leaders fell quiet and sighed in relief. Others leaned forward, attentive and calculating. Their fear did not vanish, but it eased considerably, held in check by their trust in the Justice League.
"How will the League handle this?" the French president asked. "Considering the projections, there will be gaps."
"This time they're not planning to just shield the impacted regions," Swanwick said. "They're going after the Tide itself."
"Does that mean you finally have a way to counter it?" the Irish Taoiseach asked, hope breaking through despite themself.
"Not a permanent countermeasure," Lane said. "But they learned from the last attacks. They've designed new strikes meant to crack the Tide, and they have devised a containment plan."
"Containment?" Portugal's Prime Minister asked.
Lane nodded once. "A wide spatial construct—think of it like portal mechanics scaled into a net. Not to move the water somewhere else, but to force the mass to fold in on itself and collapse. It's inspired by the AEGIS concept, but it uses the League's transportation techniques at a completely different magnitude."
Stunned silence fell as the leaders tried to picture it—an ocean caught like a beast in a snare.
Lane continued, unsparingly. "With that said, to deploy it at sea, they'll need access to European naval fleets for positioning, staging, and stabilization. Without ships in the right places, the geometry they plan to raise will fail."
The French President exhaled hard, eyes narrowing. Spain's Prime Minister fell silent, as if bracing for the cost. In the end, they all nodded in support.
Then Portugal's leader asked, "And the new team? The Vindicators. Surely the League can use support while they set that net."
Swanwick glanced sideways at Waller.
Waller met the look without blinking. "They're being deployed," she said. "Like it or not, they're assets. And tonight, they'll be used."
Swanwick's jaw tightened, but he gave a short nod. "We'll take every capable hand we can get."
"Good," Waller said. "Then let's work together."
And with that, the room shifted—from argument to execution—while, far across the Atlantic, the distortion kept growing, and the Tide kept gathering its weight like a fist drawing back.
After two hours — Celtic Sea
The sky above the fleet had begun to churn in earnest—clouds knotting into darker layers, the light thinning as if evening itself were being dragged under.
Out beyond the mouth of the Celtic Sea, three warships held position in a wide triangle, each vessel dozens of kilometers from the next. They'd been stripped down to essentials, their crews already evacuated, noncritical systems powered down, and exposed surfaces cleared—every preparation made for the moment the ocean tried to climb into the sky.
On the starboard ship, Zatara stood braced against the wind, coat snapping, forearms traced with a faint, steady glow as his chant rolled on without pause.
On the port ship, John Constantine leaned against the rail. His voice never broke rhythm, and his eyes never left the blackening horizon.
And on the center ship, Zatanna took point—shoulders square, hands steady, her words cutting cleanly through the rising gale.
Between the ships, conduit cables ran in long, taut lines, thick as industrial hoses, humming with a low vibration. They fed into a reinforced platform behind Zatanna, where Cheetah sat cross-legged, back straight, eyes closed, with interfaces fixed to her arms and temple.
A rich golden-green aura rolled off her in slow waves, dense enough to tint the air around her figure. The platform drank it in—taking her cultivated God Ki and converting it into raw throughput. Power surged into the conduits, raced across the triangle, and snapped into wrist attachments clamped to the sorcerers' forearms.
It didn't merely support them.
It amplified their magic.
Sweat beaded on their brows and vanished into salt air. Minutes crawled as they worked.
Ahead, the sea began to change.
At first, it was only pressure—an unnatural heaviness pressing up through the water. Then the horizon bent, as if something immense were rising from beneath the world. The Great Tide took shape in the distance, dark and vast, corruption swirling through it and driving it forward.
Superman hovered above the ships with a grim expression, ready to intervene the instant their plan went awry.
Twenty minutes later, the final syllables of their compounded spellwork snapped into place.
The three sorcerers spread their hands wide. Magical energy flared around their palms, then they drew them together and clapped in perfect unison.
The sound rang out over open water.
In that instant, the ships and the people standing on them became anchors.
Majestic magical energy erupted from each caster and surged outward, linking high above the sea into a three-point lattice, a web of fine spellwork that shimmered like glass filaments strung through space itself, spanning a wide field.
It formed a triangular volume of altered geometry, defined by the three anchor points. Inside it, space no longer behaved the same.
Within that zone, the rules changed. The first water to touch the lattice was forced through a folding corridor of warped space and deposited back into itself, again and again, until forward momentum became self-collision, coherence fell into chaos, and a single advancing front was shredded into vertical churn and lateral spill.
The League's intent was simple in concept and brutal in execution. They planned to let the wave strike, bleed off its drive, then fold the mass into an invisible maze until it collapsed under its own weight.
Above, four figures hovered in staggered formation, poised to strike in sequence the moment the net held—ready to break the wave apart.
The moment the lattice finished forming, the Great Tide arrived.
It slammed into the field with the weight of a continent.
The spellwork shrieked as the warships rocked, tilting the deck beneath their feet.
"HOLD!" Zatanna shouted.
Zatara's jaw clenched; his arms trembled as he reinforced his node. Constantine's slouch vanished completely. All three gritted their teeth and leaned into the working like people trying to keep a door shut against an onrushing flood—because that was exactly what they were doing.
The corrupted surface struck the filaments and snapped backward in sections—space buckling, rebounding, hurling water into itself. For a heartbeat, the wave faltered, folding and refolding as if confused by physics that suddenly refused to cooperate.
But it didn't stop.
It pushed again.
Above, the clouds flashed.
Lightning crawled through the dark like living veins, converging around a silent figure hovering high overhead. Shazam's eyes were closed, face taut with concentration. He was searching—deep inside himself—for the same strange resonance he'd felt in Hawaii, the moment his lightning had changed.
In his ear, Batman's voice cut through the comms.
"Now."
Shazam's eyes snapped open, glowing with crackling divinity.
The next instant, he dropped.
Lightning followed him, funneling through the storm like a spear being forged midair. His descent tore a bright scar through the clouds, thunder detonating in his wake.
"SHAZAM!"
The roar reverberated across the sea.
As he neared the Tide, the lightning behind him resonated—answering something older, something locked away in Olympus. The bolt sharpened wildly, changed, threaded with a faint trace of divine authority.
At the last instant—just before he would've struck the corrupted water—Shazam was engulfed.
Billy reappeared in the heart of the divine strike—small and human in a place no human should have been. He threw himself sideways on instinct, and Superman was already there.
Superman caught him and rocketed away, clearing the impact zone by a heartbeat.
The lightning hit the Great Tide's flank.
For a split second, the world turned white.
The bolt obliterated a massive chunk of corrupted water, punching a hole through the wave like a god's fist. Steam and blackened spray erupted skyward.
The Tide staggered as the last traces of corruption in the water began to pale.
Then—horrifyingly—after only a few moments, it surged again, rebuilding its height as if the ocean itself refused to accept injury.
Exactly as the League had expected.
Because above the clouds, three more figures hovered with their hands raised, faces tight with strain—Hal Jordan, Laira Omoto, and John Stewart.
Earth's Yellow Lanterns.
Each of them poured roughly seventy percent of their reserves into a single construct: a yellow-gold sphere of condensed destructive force, dense enough to warp the air with visible heat. Sweat ran down their faces. Teeth clenched. Every muscle locked as they fought to keep it stable.
They had learned in Hawaii that raw impact was not enough. The corruption resisted simple force unless the force was overwhelming and, more importantly, sustained long enough to deny it any chance to adapt and regenerate.
This was their answer.
In their ears, the cue came as Batman's voice rang out.
"Lanterns, release."
All three opened their eyes.
And moved as one.
They brought their hands down and hurled the sphere.
It tore through the storm like a falling sun, carving a blinding corridor through the clouds and briefly splitting the darkness behind it. It plunged toward the Tide's far flank, striking at the exact moment the wave tried to rise again and curl around the net.
On contact, the sphere held for a fraction of a second.
Then it ruptured.
The energy inside detonated into a massive, expanding bloom of yellow-gold destruction that swallowed the risen corruption whole. The blast turned the sea into a mirror. Sound vanished for an eerie beat—and in that silence, the corruption stuttered and the pattern finally broke.
Like a song losing its rhythm, the eruption disrupted the formation's resonance, throwing waves through the sea in every direction across the region—enough to scramble the signal locally, not enough to sever it at the source.
Then the roar arrived.
A thunderous shockwave slammed outward, shaking the ocean hard enough to hurl violent swells at the fleet. The warships bucked and groaned. Decks tilted. Equipment skittered despite being lashed down. The three sorcerers nearly lost their footing, their lattice shivering as the shock hit them like a physical blow.
Even Zatanna went pale and swore under her breath, hands trembling.
Zatara's eyes went wide for a heartbeat—equal parts awe and fury.
Constantine stumbled and hit the deck hard—then looked up at the Lanterns with murder in his eyes.
"Oy! You lot!" he roared over the chaos, voice raw. "A warning would've been nice!"
He wrenched his feet back under him and drove his will into the lattice again.
Because even with the Tide carved down and scattered, the satellite network still detected the same buried resonance beneath the ocean, proof the source had not been severed. As long as it remained, the water kept trying to adapt and stitch itself back into shape.
The enemy could build again.
Strike again.
So the lattice still had to hold.
And in the seconds after the detonation—while steam roared upward and the remaining corrupted water tried to churn and re-knit—Superman and the Vindicators dove.
They moved with clean, efficient precision, sweeping low over the shattered surface and releasing concentrated frost breath in disciplined bursts. Water flash-froze in their wake, locking loose masses into brittle plates and choking the churn before it could gather momentum, denying the corruption the simple, terrible advantage of motion.
For the first time since the Tide rose, it hesitated.
Not because it was afraid, but because—for a few precious seconds—it couldn't reform fast enough.
DOD — Around the time Shazam's lightning tore down from the sky as the League engaged the Great Tide beyond the Celtic Sea
A jagged column of white-blue light erupted on the main screen.
Even through the cameras, it was blinding—so bright the command center's displays washed out for a heartbeat. The lightning carried a faint, unsettling authority, as if the strike weren't just electrical but judgmental, and when it hit the corrupted waters of the Great Tide, the image flared hard enough that several officers instinctively turned away or raised hands to shield their eyes.
"Damn," General Lane muttered, rubbing at his watering eyes. "Every time. That lightning is really something else."
General Swanwick blinked hard, then narrowed his gaze at the returning feed. "Which makes me wonder," he said, voice measured, "is it simply magnitude… or does that lightning carry a different property?"
"It has to be different," Lane replied, eyes back on the screens. "Whatever's in that water is hard to counter with conventional means. Our analysis shows high-output electrical attacks barely stall the corruption. It adapts, then resurges."
"Gentlemen," Amanda Waller cut in, smooth and perfectly timed, "I have a proposition."
Both generals glanced at her at once.
"When this is over," Waller continued, "I want you to facilitate a meeting between the League and A.R.G.U.S." She tapped a finger against a nearby console, showing the energy readings. "If that strike can push back the corruption that effectively, then we need to study the mechanism. Replicate it. Develop countermeasures we can deploy ourselves."
Lane's expression tightened. "You mean weapons."
Waller met his stare without blinking. "Does the label matter?" Her voice cooled. "Right now we're reacting. Defending. Waiting for the next hit. Countermeasures that work give us options—options that keep our people alive. If that means arming our personnel so we can go on the offensive, then yes. Weapons."
"Sure," Lane said, tone flat. "And after this threat is gone?"
Waller's mouth didn't move, but her eyes hardened. "You know exactly who I am, Lane. I have ambitions. Sometimes they clash with yours. I won't pretend otherwise." She leaned forward slightly, sharpening the point. "But I'm more concerned with now than your hypothetical future."
"You—"
The screens flared again—another burst of blinding brilliance as the Lanterns' attack made contact. The command center lit up white, then snapped back to the battle feed.
Lane groaned, massaging his temples. "Great. I'm going to have a migraine after this."
Waller immediately stepped to an analyst station and scanned the energy readouts, her expression darkening with every line of data. When she turned back, her voice was edged with something close to disgust.
"How do you allow independent actors to hold this much destructive power with so little oversight?" she demanded. "How do you not worry about the day it's turned on us? How can you trust these—" she caught herself, teeth grinding, "—these so-called heroes more than you trust your own chain of command? How is this preferable to equipping our soldiers—our assets—with controlled, accountable force?"
Lane's jaw flexed. "Last I checked, they operate under the purview of the UN Security Council and follow protocols as much as possible."
"Oh, please." Waller's tone was sharp. "Don't sell me civilian talking points. You and I both know they ultimately answer to themselves—to their personal morality and their private math." Her eyes flicked toward the screens. "Tell me, Lane. If a second and third event hit multiple countries at once, what happens? What calculation are you comfortable letting them make about which front gets saved and which gets sacrificed?"
Lane opened his mouth, anger rising—
"Enough."
Swanwick's voice slammed through the room, authoritative and final. He didn't look at either of them, eyes fixed on the live feed. "Stop the philosophical bickering. It's unbecoming. Our attention is on the matter at hand—"
"General!"
A watch officer half-stood, voice tight with alarm. "Second energy signature detected. Pattern match confirmed—bearing Indian Ocean! Sir… it's another Great Tide."
The command center went still.
"What?" Lane said.
Waller's head snapped toward the officer. "Repeat that."
Swanwick's expression turned hard. "Say it again."
The officer swallowed. "Second Great Tide. Indian Ocean."
All three of their expressions hardened at once.
Meanwhile in India — Evening — Around the time the League engaged the Great Tide beyond the Celtic Sea
Out in the Indian Ocean, something began to wake.
Planet Watch had most of its attention locked on the Atlantic, so the first signs slipped through—barely more than a tremor in deep water, a faint rhythmic pulse that didn't match any recorded pattern. Seven monolith formations received a single initiation command from Orm.
One by one, they lit.
Each released a low, steady pulse. Then the pulses synchronized, harmonizing into a single resonance that rolled outward through the sea. The water responded as if it were being tuned. Currents twisted into deliberate spirals, and the surface shifted in the resonance's wake.
Dark gray energy bled up from below and mixed into the water like ink. Within minutes, the tint deepened to near-black in places, moving with a wrong, purposeful rhythm.
Only when the resonance reached a critical threshold did Planet Watch finally catch it.
A second Great Tide was being assembled.
Kanyakumari
Arjun sat on the beach facing the water, eyes closed, his expression tight with concentration. For hours he'd been pushing his senses outward—feeling for pressure changes and seabed vibrations the way a blind person reads braille—catching faint fluctuations, losing them, then catching them again.
Priya and Kiran stood nearby, half-watching him, half-watching the live news updates from the Celtic Sea on their phones.
"Arjun, you should rest," Priya said at last, lowering her screen. "You've been at this for hours."
"I agree," Kiran added gently. "Brother Arjun—take a break."
"It's fine," Arjun murmured, his eyes still shut. "I rested when you brought food and—"
He suddenly froze.
"Wait." His voice dropped. His brows furrowed. "I feel it again. But, the fluctuations… they're stronger than before."
Priya and Kiran pocketed their phones at once.
"What is it?" they asked together.
"It's faint, but it's definitely a pattern," Arjun said, face tightening. "And it's growing. Whatever it is… it's getting louder."
Priya crouched beside him. "Can you push further?"
"Your max is what—two thousand kilometers?" Kiran pressed, leaning in. "Can you tell where it's coming from?"
Arjun frowned. "Water isn't land. It isn't my element, so my range is limited. If I force it, I probably could, but it'll hurt." He drew a hard breath, bracing for impact. "But I'll try."
He pushed on.
At first it was only strain—then a sting behind his eyes sharpened into pain. He gritted his teeth and extended anyway, deeper into the Indian Ocean, until his awareness finally collided with the resonant pulse… and a dark-gray surge rising from the depths.
His whole body jolted, and he coughed up blood that spattered onto the sand.
"ARJUN!" Priya and Kiran lunged forward, catching him before he fell.
"Kiran, help me sit him up," Priya ordered, already checking his breathing and pupils, her medical instincts snapping into place. "Arjun, stay with us. Where does it hurt? Talk to me."
"Are you okay?" Kiran asked, voice tight as they steadied him.
Arjun waved them off and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. His gaze stayed fixed on the ocean, like he could still feel it out there.
"I'll manage," he said hoarsely. "But we have a problem. A big one."
Priya's eyes narrowed. "What did you feel?"
"Power," Arjun said, the word heavy. "Dark power—surging in the ocean depths. It's… similar to what I sensed in the north. The same unnatural wrongness." He swallowed and forced the rest out. "Whatever it is, it's forming fast. And if my sense of direction is right…"
He looked up at them.
"It's headed this way."
Priya's fists clenched. Heat flickered along her fingers. "Shit. That sounds like the Great Tide." Her eyes hardened. "They're really hitting two fronts." She stood. "We evacuate the coastline and the surrounding districts. Now."
Kiran nodded, already moving. "Alright. We do it the way we planned. I'll light up the sky and pull attention. You make noise and move people."
"Yeah," Priya said, turning—then froze.
"Already on it," a voice called from above.
All three snapped their heads up.
Two figures dropped out of the sky and landed on the beach in front of them. A green teen who glided down and shifted mid-landing into human form, and a second figure in blue-and-black armor that looked alive.
"Hi there!" the green teen, Gar, waved with a quick, nervous smile. "I'm Beast Boy. This is Blue Beetle. We're Titans. We were sent to find you three."
"The Justice League sent you?" Kiran's mind raced. "For us?"
"Long story," Jaime said, helmet retracting. "Short version. We want to help. We were supposed to invite you to join the Titans but—" His gaze flicked toward the ocean. "—that pitch has to wait. My scarab is detecting massive energy buildup out there. We don't have much time."
"We know," Arjun said flatly.
Jaime's eyes locked onto him. "You knew?"
"Later," Priya cut in. "Right now—are you helping us defend our land? And is anyone else coming?"
Gar's expression turned grim. "We have already contacted the League. But, most of them are tied up in the Atlantic. As far as backup goes…" He spread his hands.
Jaime nodded once. "For now, we're it."
Priya and Kiran exchanged a quick look, unease flashing between them.
Jaime took a breath. When he spoke again, his voice was more serious. "Listen. You three have been doing incredible work since you emerged. We saw Solstice and Agni in action when we arrived." His voice growing grave. "But this isn't a natural disaster. It's a weapon, and the ETA is under two hours. The only play is defense, to buy time while local authorities evacuate."
Silence settled over them.
Priya's voice came out steady. "How big?"
Jaime's gaze flicked again to the dark horizon. "Readings are still stabilizing, but… it could be like Hawaii. Maybe bigger."
Kiran felt cold spread through her chest. Bigger than Hawaii—coming for her coastline. Her people. Her family.
"So the Celtic Sea was a distraction?" Arjun asked, mind racing.
Gar and Jaime exchanged a glance and shook their heads.
"We don't know," Jaime admitted. "Maybe. Maybe not."
"We've already told authorities to start moving people," Gar said, tapping his communicator. "But we need to hold the line as long as possible."
"Not enough time," Arjun said, shaking his head. "The city's too big."
Priya's flames flared around her clenched fists. "Then what?" she demanded. "We can't just sit back and watch."
Kiran stared out at the ocean and saw it in her mind, a wall of corrupted water swallowing homes and temples. She pictured her parents watching the news, knowing she was here—worried sick.
She recalled Vishnu's words.
'You are to be a champion… a guardian of the Indian subcontinent.'
She inhaled once—slow and controlled—as she forced her fear and anxiety down into something sharper, something usable. Her expression hardened into resolve.
"Then we make a stand," she said quietly.
"What?" Gar asked.
"We can't evacuate everyone fast enough," Kiran said, louder now. Golden light began to gather around her skin. "So, like Blue Beetle suggested, we stall. We build obstacles. We buy time for the authorities to move people inland to higher ground, to airlifts—whatever they can manage."
Jaime studied her, eyes narrowing. "I'm glad you understand the objective," he said, blunt but careful. "But don't mistake what this is. With our numbers, this could be a suicide mission. That wave will level a city."
"Then we die trying," Kiran snapped, eyes blazing. "Because the alternative is letting millions die while we do nothing. I won't do that."
Priya stepped to Kiran's side, fire climbing her arms. "She's right."
Arjun was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded once. "I lost my sister to a disaster I couldn't stop," he said, voice low and raw. "I'm not helpless anymore. If I can keep other people from suffering like that… I will. I'm in."
Jaime exhaled, accepting their decision. "Do you have a plan?"
Priya, Kiran, and Arjun exchanged a look—then answered together.
"We do."
Gar swallowed, then forced a grin that didn't hide the fear in his eyes. "Batgirl's going to murder us for this."
"We don't have many options," Jaime said, voice low. "The rest are hours away. It's just us. So we hold as long as we can—and we report everything we learn."
Gar's grin faded into something steadier. "Then let's make it count."
They spent the next thirty minutes coordinating with local authorities on warnings, routes, emergency broadcasts. Alongside the Police even the military mobilized to keep roads clear and push people inland to support the evacuation efforts.
As the final hour bled away and the sea grew darker and more turbulent, the five took positions along the coastline.
Kiran stood atop a tall building at center. Priya took a rooftop to her left, heat building into a controlled storm around her. Arjun crouched below in an emptied street, both hands pressed to the ground, senses hooked into the deep. Beast Boy and Blue Beetle hovered above, ready to reinforce or extract if someone broke.
Jaime's scarab zoomed in on the horizon, and on his HUD he saw a dark line crawling across the sea. At first it looked like a storm front—then it rose.
"Man," Gar whispered, "it never gets easier."
"Yeah," Jaime muttered under his breath. "Here we go again."