Reporters raised their hands, and Joseph selected them one by one, answering each question with ease.
At first, the room was noisy, but after he politely asked for quiet, the crowd quickly settled. They complied almost instinctively.
A perk of being a god, he'd found. Whether they realized it or not, people were inclined to defer to him—an unconscious response to the weight of his presence.
Lois Lane, dark circles still faintly visible beneath her eyes, nevertheless looked sharp and alert. She was likely still mourning Superman.
"Lois Lane, Daily Planet," she began. "Are your new measures meant to replace the Justice League?"
Straight to the point.
"No," Joseph replied calmly. "LuthorCorp, under my leadership, has been donating to the Justice League as frequently as Bruce Wayne and Wayne Enterprises. We recognize the good they do. Our roles may overlap, and some graduates of our academy may choose to join the League instead of Infinity, Inc. In the end, it doesn't matter—as long as humanity benefits."
Lois didn't hesitate. "You didn't mention the most influential hero of our time in your speech. How much of your decision to create Infinity, Inc. and the LuthorBots was influenced by Superman's death?"
"Superman was a symbol of hope, and his death was a tragedy for Metropolis and the entire world," Joseph said. "But truthfully, these initiatives have been in development for months, building on work established before my tenure."
Her expression hardened slightly as she pressed on. "Why should the public trust you with an army of robots, given the actions of the previous CEO—particularly his involvement with the Light and his role in Superman's death?"
The room quieted.
Everyone knew what Lex Luthor had done—unleashing Doomsday, the creature that killed Superman. The remnants of his carefully crafted public image had collapsed overnight after Batman paid him a visit. Unfortunately, the stain had spread to LuthorCorp as well.
"LuthorCorp has made every effort to distance itself from Lex Luthor and LexCorp," Joseph replied evenly. "We condemn his actions unequivocally. Under my leadership, we've cut ties with hostile regimes like Bialya, ended any covert support tied to the Light, issued reparations, increased philanthropic efforts, and improved transparency. Our focus has shifted toward advancing society—not weaponizing it."
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"I thought I made this clear in our last interview, Ms. Lane. I do not appreciate being conflated with my father, who is in custody and will face justice for his crimes."
A brief pause.
"As for trust—LuthorCorp understands it must be earned. I am currently in discussions with the President to establish a Hero Public Safety Commission, which would oversee regulation and licensing for all individuals or entities acting as heroes. That level of accountability should help build public confidence."
Out of the corner of his eye, Joseph noticed Bruce Wayne's eyebrow rise from the front row. The League was hearing this for the first time—but really, Batman had no grounds to object to more oversight.
Joseph continued smoothly, "Additionally, all LuthorDroids and LuthorBots will record continuously. The data will be stored locally and remain unused unless required for accountability purposes."
He turned back to Lois.
"Any further questions, Ms. Lane?"
She shook her head. "No, that will be all."
Joseph nodded, then pointed to another reporter.
"Alright—you're next."
**
Bruce Wayne watched Joseph Bell Luthor as he showcased his inventions and mingled effortlessly with the upper echelons of society, Koriand'r at his side.
He looked natural—like he belonged—trading jokes with the one percent. Most seventeen-year-olds would have shown at least a hint of nerves, but Joseph didn't waver. His confidence was absolute. It was a stark contrast to earlier that year, when he had just abandoned his Flux identity and sought entry into the League, eager to prove himself.
Now, he had.
He had saved the Earth multiple times and avenged his mother by dismantling Intergang—something Bruce himself had never managed with the man who murdered his parents. There was nothing left for Joseph to prove.
The boy's—no, the man's—presence reminded Bruce of Ra's al Ghul. Even the physical details aligned: where Ra's bore white streaks at his temples, Joseph now carried one along his right side. And Joseph suddenly possessed green eyes, like Ra's.
He had attributed it to his battle with Trigon, but Bruce suspected there was more to it. Perhaps magic hadn't been his only means of revival.
His gaze shifted to the two children Joseph had taken in, accompanied by their butler—an android, if Bruce's deductions were correct. He ignored the ten-year-old boy staring at him with open admiration and focused instead on the girl.
Cassandra Wu-San. Daughter of Lady Shiva—a fact Bruce had confirmed through DNA testing just before the Hour of Chaos.
Further investigation had revealed her past on Infinity Island, training under the League of Shadows.
And yet Joseph had taken her in. Brought her into the public eye.
Which meant he wasn't afraid of Shiva… or of Ra's al Ghul.
Bruce let the thought go. Speculation without proof would only breed paranoia within the League.
Joseph had already been an enigma. After returning from Trigon's dimension, he was something else entirely. Even Wonder Woman had confirmed it—Joseph had effectively become a god.
He was intelligent enough to breach the Batcomputer, decrypt its safeguards, and access contingency files on every League member. By now, he likely had contingencies of his own.
Worse—he might not even need them anymore.
Joseph could openly admit to crimes, and there would be little the League could realistically do that didn't involve outright killing him.
He wielded the Speed and Strength Force, drawing parallels to Zoom who had knocked him and Flash out during their raid on Infinity Island. His energy output rivaled Captain Atom's connection to the Quantum Field. His combat ability stood on par with Wonder Woman. His use of Nth metal surpassed ex-League members Hawkman and Hawkwoman. And his psychic defenses were beyond even Martian Manhunter's reach.
Even a team of androids and the Teen Titans had managed to defeat the League under his direction—weakened though they were. And Bruce had no doubt Nova alone could replicate that outcome.
Footage on his Batsuit from the fight confirmed Joseph had already incorporated or replicated technologies from T.O. Morrow, Professor Ivo, and others—all assets previously secured by the League. Replicating Amazo-level constructs would only be a matter of time.
And unlike most threats, Joseph wasn't feared.
He was loved.
Both as a public figure and as a hero.
For all intents and purposes, he was untouchable.
The only real check left was moral conviction—something Superman would have handled better than anyone.
Bruce exhaled quietly at the thought of his dead friend.
Still… Joseph wasn't gone. Not yet.
The way he looked at Kori, at Jason, at Cassandra—there was still humanity there. His actions as Joseph Luthor reinforced it.
Bruce could only hope that humanity would be enough. Because his other contingencies would be fatal.
He turned to leave.
If anything, Joseph's rise had made one thing clear: while the need for Batman might diminish in the future with the introduction of more help, there was still much Bruce Wayne could do for the world.
**
| Citadel Homeworld - November 15
Komand'r was not the sentimental type.
Born the eldest child of Tamaran's royal family—the first princess in over a century—she should have been celebrated, courted, and honored. Instead, on the very day of her birth, the Citadel Empire attacked and destroyed the western Tamaranean city of Kysarr, killing three thousand citizens in her name. Though she bore no responsibility, Komand'r became forever linked to that tragedy.
To make matters worse, she was afflicted with a childhood illness that left her unable to harness ultraviolet light to fly, as most Tamaraneans could.
She grew up despised by her people, denied her birthright and stripped of her claim to the throne. Every honor that should have been hers was instead given to her younger sister, Koriand'r. Komand'r's resentment festered, turning inward before eventually finding its outlet in her sister—the easiest target for her rage.
That rivalry only deepened when the sisters were sent to train with the Warlords of Okaara. It culminated during a sparring exercise in which Komand'r attempted to kill Koriand'r. For that, she was expelled.
She swore vengeance.
Joining the Citadel, Komand'r rose swiftly through its ranks, becoming a traitor to her own world. She later provided them with detailed intelligence on Tamaran's defenses, ensuring its swift conquest. The terms of surrender included the enslavement of Koriand'r.
Komand'r became queen.
Her younger brother, Ryand'r, was launched into space by their parents—his fate unknown. Those same parents were placed under constant surveillance, confined to an estate in what passed as Komand'r's final act of filial mercy.
Koriand'r was sent to Takron, where the Psions subjected her to brutal experimentation, forcing her body to absorb immense amounts of ultraviolet energy until she could unleash concentrated green blasts from her hands. She was then thrown into gladiatorial combat—something Komand'r took great pleasure in watching. Once a year, Koriand'r was even brought back to Tamaran, only to be tortured by her sister's own hands.
Komand'r later underwent similar experiments, though hers were more refined, less painful—and far more effective. She emerged vastly empowered, able to rival a Daxamite under a yellow sun, wielding potent violet ultraviolet energy.
Koriand'r's eventual escape had been… unfortunate. Yet there had been no trace of her across intergalactic communications since. Komand'r found she didn't particularly care.
So it came as no surprise that she felt nothing for the man she was about to marry.
Harry Hokum, Czar of the Citadel.
Theirs was a political union. Hokum, despite his immense power, hailed from a backwater sector outside the Vega system. Marrying Tamaranean royalty would legitimize his rule. And Komand'r—strong enough to physically withstand him—was the only viable match. She had seen the aftermath of his previous visit to Raggashoon, the largest bordello in the universe. The bodies left behind had not been pretty.
Komand'r stood adorned in a commanding Tamaranean royal ensemble: a sleek black bodysuit reinforced with polished silver armor along the collar and shoulders, a flowing purple cape fastened with a violet brooch, and a three-pointed silver tiara crowning her dark hair. Long silver gauntlets completed the look, reinforcing her authority.
Around her gathered a tense assembly—Citadel Gordanians and Gordanites posing as security, enslaved dignitaries from conquered worlds, and a reluctant Tamaranean nobility.
The murmurs died the moment Hokum arrived.
He descended from the sky, clad in a cosmic bodysuit of red and black, centered by a glowing golden eight-pointed star. Bands of gold circled his wrists—artifacts, he claimed, from a Lord of Order—while matching bands lined his shins. His white hair and radiant energy gave him an almost celestial presence.
He had, apparently, just emerged from the nearest sun—taking an Earth concept called "sunbathing" far too literally.
Komand'r nearly rolled her eyes. Dramatic.
But everything he did was calculated. This ceremony was being broadcast across the galaxy. Allies, enemies—everyone was watching.
Power. Attention. Dominion.
Komand'r craved it all.
Hokum landed gracefully, his attire shifting into a regal black-and-gold ensemble, his white hair turned brown, and a red monocle forming over one eye. The officiant—a visibly terrified Tamaranean priest—rushed through the ceremony, knowing better than to stutter.
The vows were exchanged. Polite applause followed.
Komand'r's gaze lingered on Hokum—not with affection, but with ambition. Hokum, misreading it entirely, lifted her chin and claimed her lips.
The union was sealed.
Now, not only Tamaran but the entire Vega system would fall under her dominion.
And one day—the universe.
'Kori could never.'