"How's Shazam doing?" Superwoman asked inside the Watchtower, where many of the heroes had finally recovered from their injuries.
The Green Lanterns were a different story—without their rings, they faced an entirely different, far more complicated struggle of getting a new Lantern ring.
Everyone had returned to the Watchtower. Everyone… except Shazam. As Batwoman was the only one who knew Shazam's true identity, all eyes turned to her for answers.
After what had happened, it wasn't hard to understand. Shazam hadn't just been physically wounded. He had been scarred—both mentally and physically. And no one blamed him for staying away.
Over a hundred people had died that day—many in cruel, unspeakable ways. And no one could forget how Shazam's body had been used to kill one of them. Or how Shazam had accidentally killed Val.
"He's in therapy," Batwoman said, her voice unreadable. The truth was harsh—Shazam, despite looking like a fully grown woman, was in reality just a little girl.
Omen had scarred her so deeply that she couldn't even bring herself to summon her powers anymore.
"We have to—" Wonder Man started to say, but Batwoman quickly cut him off, steering the conversation away before she could go on..
"Although we've bought ourselves some time with Omen, we've unleashed his clones across the universe," Batwoman said, her gaze steady as she turned to the three Lanterns. "We have to stop them—and hopefully, in doing so, we'll find a way to stop Omen's real body."
"Omen's clones have already wiped out life on several planets," Val said grimly. "And not in a simple way. Billions tortured in ways I can't even describe."
He paused, letting the weight of those words settle before continuing. "Trigon, Darkseid… all of them, they're nothing compared to Omen. And it gets worse. Someone has put a bounty on him. Lobo is hunting the clones now, but it's only a matter of time before he comes to Earth for the real Omen."
Val's expression darkened. "We have to stop Lobo before that happens."
But he wasn't finished. He went on to explain how the very existence of Omen had begun to ripple across the universe, sending fear, chaos, and uncertainty into every corner of the stars.
"Across the universe, many of the Omens have already been killed," Val continued, his voice heavy. "They didn't believe us when we warned them—killing Omen only makes him stronger."
He took a breath, the weight of the situation pressing down on everyone.
"Now, Earth has become a target. Races from across the galaxy have already launched their battleships, all heading here."
He paused, his expression darkening even further.
"But what scares me most… is Darkseid's reaction. She's halted all movements, completely, and seems to be preparing for something."
The air inside the Watchtower grew heavier.
Darkseid was dangerous—but unlike Omen, she wasn't pure chaos. She was lawful evil. And in a twisted way, she was something the multiverse needed to survive. Without forces like her maintaining a brutal form of order, the fragile balance of existence itself would collapse.
Darkseid didn't want to wipe out all life. She wanted to enslave it—bend all free will under her own. And compared to Omen… That almost sounded merciful.
One wanted to enslave reality. The other wanted to torture all life across the universe. One couldn't be killed—because death only made him stronger. The other couldn't be killed—because her death would collapse the multiverse itself. They were so alike. And yet… Omen was far more dangerous.
"When will they get here?" Superwoman asked, her voice steady but tight. Val took a deep breath, the weight of the answer pressing down on him. After a long, heavy pause, he finally spoke.
"In twenty days," Val said grimly. "Just in time for Omen's next villainous act. They don't understand what they're walking into."
The room fell into a heavy silence. Everyone's faces dropped, the weight of the situation settling over them like a thick fog. Only Batwoman didn't react.. She already had a plan. The next time Omen appeared, he would be banished to the Phantom Zone—no matter what it took.
Without another word, Batwoman left the Watchtower, returning to the Batcave. As she drove through the night, her mind drifted back to ten days ago. The last time she had seen Omen was
He had just been dumped by the Joker, and he was crying—not from rage, not from hate, but because he had broken the heart of the only person who had ever cared for him exactly as he was.
Batwoman had tried to talk to him that night, but it had been a mistake. Showing care only made Omen ask questions he shouldn't have. He wanted to know if she was dating someone.
It was painfully clear: Omen had grown up his whole life not knowing what it truly meant to be loved… or cared for. To Omen, being cared for was something rare. Something he treasured more deeply than he could ever express.
But his nature, what he had become, ensured that few would ever genuinely care for him. In Omen's eyes, who could love someone like him? And if someone did love him… it only brought him more pain. Because deep down, Omen knew that he didn't deserve it.
This internal conflict—between Omen's nature and his deepest desires—terrified Batwoman. She didn't know what might be born from it in the future.
"Hey, Bats… what's under this mask?" Omen had asked that night, his voice surprisingly soft. He had reached out gently, his fingers brushing against her mask, his thumb lightly pressing against it.
It was clear he wanted to remove it—to see her face. But even as his hand lingered there, he hesitated, holding himself back.
"Omen, come with me," Batwoman said softly. "The Justice League can find a way to stop you."
Omen gave a weak smile. "You have no idea how much I want to trust you," he said, his voice barely holding together. "But I'm scared you'll lie to me again… like last time. I really do want to trust you."
Batwoman clenched her fists, the guilt weighing heavily on her. Omen leaned forward, his forehead resting gently against hers. Before she could react, he pressed his lips against hers, briefly, trembling. And just as quickly, he pulled away.
"What's wrong with me… Joker was right, I'm such a slut," Omen muttered, clutching his head in disgust at himself.
Without another word, he shot off into the sky, disappearing into the night. Batwoman just stood there, her eyes narrowing as she watched him vanish.
That had been the last time she saw Omen. Omen had fallen for three different people, and all it had taken from each of them was a small sign of care.
It didn't take much. Omen was easy. If you showed him that they truly cared, he would fall for you without hesitation.
Anyway, Batwoman soon returned to the Batcave, moving quickly to the computer systems. She pulled up a series of surveillance images—camera views from across the city.
One of them showed a blonde-haired man entering an apartment, casually sitting down in front of a TV, and watching anime.
It was Omen. Transformed into the likeness of a young man who had recently gone missing. He hadn't just stolen the man's appearance—he had gone even further.
By reading the minds of those around him, Omen learned everything he needed to play the role perfectly, slipping into the young man's life without raising a single alarm.
Batwoman had known Omen's location for three days now. It had only taken her seven days to track him down, but she hadn't reported his whereabouts to the League.
At the end of the day, she couldn't deny it. She had a soft spot for Omen. For the past few days, despite stealing someone's identity, Omen had shown remarkable restraint—holding himself back, keeping his promise.
Batwoman had seen it firsthand—how much it meant to him not to break Superwoman's heart, the way he had broken the Joker's.
To cope, Omen turned to something simple. He watched anime. For someone so twisted, so dangerous, Omen had only six true loves in this world: torture, Superwoman, Batwoman, the Joker, brutal killing… and anime.
It seemed like it had been a long time since Omen had allowed himself to sit back and simply watch anime. And now, after so long, it actually helped him relax.
It wasn't just anime either—Omen had even caught up on the novels he used to read. Though his heart broke when he discovered one of the authors he admired was related to the people he had killed ten days ago.
The realization left him feeling sick with himself. Trying to find some semblance of normalcy, Omen even held a job. Oddly enough, most of the money he earned, he gave away to those in need.
A strange sight, considering who he was. It was almost as if he was trying, however hopeless it seemed, to rebuild what little humanity he still had. Trying to overwhelm the monster inside him… before it was too late.
"Fuck these cliffhangers!" Omen cried out, glaring at the screen as the Solo Leveling anime abruptly ended.
For a moment, he seriously considered flying straight to Japan to unleash some chaos on the animators responsible… But he stopped himself.
Without them, who would make the anime he loved? Of course, once his one-month time limit was over, once he was free to act without restraint, he wouldn't care anymore if there were no more anime.
At the end of the day, his thirst for destruction would outweigh everything else. But he would be nice. He'd leave the animators for last.
So, Omen spent the entire day watching anime. Sure, he had work, but he had left a clone to handle that for him, freeing himself to do whatever he wanted.
Time slipped by as he sat still before the TV, binge-watching anime after anime, before eventually moving on to Bollywood movies, Hollywood blockbusters, and dozens of TV shows.
It was perfect. Until—
Boom!
The window exploded inward, catching Omen completely off guard. He moved on instinct, but it was too late.
A beam from a Phantom Zone projector struck him squarely, locking him in place. Omen struggled, trying to escape the pull, forcing his body to revert to its true form… The pull was too strong. With a final, furious roar, Omen was sucked into the beam.
"You… you won," Omen said softly, suddenly stopping his struggle against the pull of the Phantom Zone. He smiled, genuinely, before letting the beam fully consume him.
Superwoman, holding the Phantom Zone projector tightly in her hands, closed her eyes. It was over. Omen was gone. But even as silence fell over the wreckage, an uneasy feeling lingered in the air.
"I don't like this," Cyborg said, her voice low, a deep frown crossing her face as she stepped forward. "Even your people didn't fully understand the Phantom Zone. Sending him there might not have been the smartest move."
The rest of the League appeared behind Superwoman, one by one, each carrying their own heavy, unspoken thoughts.
And in the center of it all, Superwoman stood frozen—her heart heavy with something she couldn't name.
"It'll buy us time," Superwoman said quietly, her voice firm. "Time to find a real way to deal with him."
Without waiting for a response, she flew off—because no matter what she said, she knew deep down, Omen was far too complex to be handled so easily.
Meanwhile, within the Phantom Zone, everything was silent. There was no sun here. No sky. Just an endless void filled with floating debris—huge rocks, shattered structures, and pieces of forgotten worlds drifting aimlessly.
Omen appeared on a floating platform, standing amid the emptiness. He quickly realized something: he was intangible in this place.
His body existed… but not fully. He couldn't truly interact with anything around him. Though he could still walk, each step felt hollow, like a ghost trapped between existence and oblivion.
Omen still had his powers, so he shot upward, though in the Phantom Zone, up didn't really exist. Direction was meaningless here.
Still, he moved through the void with ease until he caught sight of several monstrous creatures flying toward him.
Omen grinned. He reached out with his telepathy, attacking their minds with cruel precision. The monsters screamed, their cries echoing through the empty void.
Omen closed his eyes, savoring the sound. But after a few moments, he opened them again, disappointed.
These creatures weren't truly intelligent. Their screams carried no stories, no depth… nothing worth savoring. Still, from their shallow minds, he managed to extract something useful—a rough understanding of the Phantom Zone's layout.
Still, Omen wasn't satisfied. He flashed forward, moving like a shadow through the void, shattering the spines of the monsters one after another. He crippled them completely—leaving everything below their necks limp and useless.
Smiling to himself, he flew deeper into the Phantom Zone, maiming any creature he came across without a second thought. It didn't take long before something else caught his attention. A battle.
Far off in the distance, Omen spotted a blonde-haired man desperately fleeing from a group of armored women and men, each riding atop twisted, flying beasts. The man wore a familiar symbol across his chest—the same crest as Superwoman.
Omen narrowed his eyes, a grin slowly forming. Whoever this was… he had to be connected to her somehow.
"Kar'el! You'll be my husband, whether you like it or not!" the leader of the group shouted, her voice echoing through the Phantom Zone.
She was a muscular woman, her frame towering over the others, and behind her trailed a few loyal males—clearly her husbands. She had a harem.
The rest of her group, all loyal females, followed closely, riding monstrous beasts through the void. In total, six of them chased after a single fleeing figure.
"Go to hell, Zora!" Kar'el snapped coldly as he raced ahead, doing everything he could to stay out of reach.
Omen floated above it all, watching with mild amusement. He knew of Zora and her little entourage. They had come to Earth a few years back, causing chaos before clashing with Superwoman herself. They were Kryptonians, just like her.
Omen had heard Superwoman's screams. Now, it was time to hear the rest of the family scream. He shot forward, reaching Kar'el before he could even react.
In a flash, Kar'el was caught in Omen's grasp, and without hesitation, Omen hurled him toward Zora and the others.
They had come to a halt, already backing away—but they were too slow. Omen captured all of them with ease, tossing them into a broken heap.
"I need information," Omen said, his voice dripping with malice as a wicked grin stretched across his face, so wide it nearly reached his ears. "And what's the best way to get it… If not through torture?"
Zora and Kar'el visibly stiffened, a chill running down their spines.
Omen enjoyed their fear. He happily stepped forward, toward one of the women, one whose mind told him she was pregnant. Pregnant females were always the most fun to break.
He also wanted to see the look on Zora's face. Would she remain the cold, determined soldier… or would she finally shatter into a broken, desperate woman?
(A/N: MC enjoys torturing those with long lifespan, for little kids and anything with a short lifespan screams are not rich with life. Meanwhile, the old had years to fill their screams with life experiences. But kids can be used to help the old scream louder.
Also, MC has a secret ability to have people feel pity for him. Superwoman and Batwoman are victims of this. MC doesn't do it on purpose; his speech on how he is a monster and shouldn't be cared for, it's something that Omen truly believes, and few can feel it.}