Somewhere in South America:
Satoru Gojo was sure of one thing; he was dead. By all accounts, by every last detail etched into his memory, he shouldn't have been standing. And yet, here he was; in the middle of a city drowning in chaos.
'What in the actual-' he muttered to himself, scratching the back of his head as he stood atop a building, peering down at the fractured streets below. He was still wearing the same outfit he'd last drawn breath in; tight black T-shirt, white hakama pants, and black shoes.
The final thing he remembered was Shinjuku; his eyes closing, the world slipping away, then nothing. And now this. Whatever this was, it looked like a full-scale civil war.
Down below, soldiers in full black tactical gear swept through the streets with a cold march. Glowing red lenses covered their masks, and a crimson S etched on their shoulders. They moved like machines, each one armed with high-tech equipment and weaponry.
Civilians had either barricaded themselves indoors or grouped outside in desperation, hurling stones and Molotov cocktails at the armored enforcers. Smoke and fire clouded the air, sirens howled in the distance, and the ground was littered with both resistance and ruin.
Bodies already lay cold on the pavement. Others had been seized and herded into controlled zones, corralled under the watchful eyes of the red-lensed soldiers.
Graffiti screamed rebellion from every wall; scrawled S symbols slashed through with blood-red crosses. Amid it all, a rough mural stretched across broken concrete: a man in blue, red cape draped behind him, stood beside a warrior woman clad in blue and gold.
Above their heads, painted in thick, angry strokes of Portuguese, were the words: "Tiranos e Deuses Falsos." (Tyrants and False Gods.)
Overhead, several drones buzzed through the air, scanning the city from above.
'The same symbol, huh…' Satoru noted, eyes following their movement, though his attention was drawn somewhere else.
The cursed energy in the air was extremely dense; overwhelming even. Like pressure slowly building inside a sealed room. It was understandable, considering the chaos unfolding around him. But something still felt strange.
'With all this negative energy, there should be cursed spirits everywhere… and yet, not a single one within miles.'
The absence gnawed at the edge of his senses. More unsettling because he was used to their presence. His mind was already working through the implications, fitting pieces together even as more questions surfaced.
And then there was the matter of his own Cursed Energy reserve.
His CE reserves felt strange; amplified, like a volume knob had been cranked far beyond what should've been possible. Within seconds, the Six Eyes processed the numbers.
'This feels almost six to eight times greater than Sukuna's… Damn, what did I eat?'
He narrowed his focus and reined the excess in, suppressing the overwhelming flow of power with nigh perfect control. The energy folded inward without resistance, tucked neatly into his core.
A metallic voice echoed above him. "By the order of Regime, citizen, you are required to surrender."
He glanced up at the sound. A large quadcopter drone hovered in the air, its gun trained directly on him, the S insignia emblazoned across its chassis.
Satoru didn't flinch, didn't even offer it a full thought; still lost in quiet analysis of the changes within himself.
"This is a last warning-" The voice never got to finish. A surge of blue energy crackled across the rooftop as the drone twisted violently in midair, crushed into a ball of mangled metal in a second.
Satoru's hand had closed into a fist, raised just above his abdomen. He opened it slowly, and the remains of the drone dropped with a hollow clang onto the road below him.
'Too loud,' he thought. His eyes shifted again, sweeping across the cityscape until they settled on some movements.
Three figures moving discreetly through an alley, ushering civilians away from the open streets. They kept low, stayed clear of patrol routes, and worked quietly.
He pinpointed the exact distance between them and his position.
Then, without hesitation, stepped off the edge of the rooftop and vanished midair, the air folding with a soft implosion as he disappeared from sight.
"This way, come on!" shouted a woman in a dark-red and black suit, motioning urgently toward a nearby doorway.
Her face was streaked with white paint, dark-red lipstick accentuating a grin, her blonde hair, tied into two high pigtails dyed in streaks of bright pink and electric blue.
In one hand, she clutched a brightly colored revolver, painted like a twisted children's toy. Slung across her back was a baseball bat in the same candy-colored scheme.
Two civilians sprinted toward her voice, slipping past her into a half-shattered safehouse tucked between crumbling buildings. Behind them, two more figures approached; both women, both hauling injured bodies on their backs.
One wore a full-body purple outfit, her face partially hidden beneath a sleek mask. The other clad in matte black from head to toe, a helmet shaped with pointed ears covering her head. A red bat symbol stood bold against her chest, and long red hair streamed out behind her as she moved.
They crossed the threshold, gently lowering the wounded as several others from inside rushed to help. Despite the urgency, the two women paused just long enough to exchange a knowing glance before moving again.
"Huntress, Batwoman! Quick, you two… the drones are already here," the woman with the painted face called out, eyes flicking skyward.
Huntress, the one in purple suit, was the first to notice. "Harley, you're bleeding," she said, pointing toward Harley's waist where blood had soaked through her suit.
"Nah, just a graze," Harley replied, waving it off without a second thought. "Let's finish this first. I'll bitch about it later."
Huntress looked like she wanted to push it further, but the conversation was cut short by a sudden, sharp clicking sound beneath their boots; followed immediately by a fast series of beeps.
Their eyes dropped. Two fist-sized spheres rolled across the floor, blinking with red lights.
There wasn't time to curse. Batwoman lunged forward, shoving the other two away just as the grenades detonated in a flash of light and heat.
The world exploded into white. A piercing ring drilled through their ears, the blast knocking debris into the air. Batwoman's cape flared wide as she tried to shield them from the brunt of it, but she screamed as the heat tore through her armor.
"AARGHHH!"
Harley and Huntress hit the ground hard, scrambling to get their bearings.
The dust settled just enough for Harley to make out Batwoman's collapsed form. The back of her neck was scorched raw, the armor around her legs completely melted away; flesh exposed, blistering with third-degree burns.
Huntress dropped beside her just as quickly she'd gotten up, pulling a frost-spray canister from a pouch and dousing the burns. A chilling hiss filled the air as the ice-like mist numbed the pain.
Harley didn't kneel. Her eyes were scanning the ruins, gun raised, shoulders tense.
"I know you're here," she called, her voice sharp now. "Go on, don't be shy. Show yourself already, Nightwing."
From behind the fractured remains of a concrete arch, a voice answered. "Batman could've sent anyone else… and the best he could come up with was you three?"
A figure stepped out; dark green and red tactical armor gleaming in the low light. His outfit was a blend of modern military hardware and metallic plates over flexible fiber. A green hood shadowed his face, a matching domino mask covering his eyes.
"Oh wait," he added with mock realization, "let me rephrase that. You three are the only ones left."
Huntress let out a breath through her teeth. "Jesus, Damian!" She said, her voice tight. "Look around you. Is this what you wanted when you took his side?"
Damian's expression didn't shift. "You don't know anything. None of you do…" he muttered, the last part almost beneath his breath.
Batwoman, still wincing, forced herself upright, the pain clearly digging into every word she spoke. "And what exactly have you managed to do, knowing everything?"
He stood a little straighter. "Put an end to the crime world. Gave murderers and rapists what they deserved. We had the spine to do what the rest of you couldn't."
Batwoman spat off to the side, her face curled in disgust. "Criminals? You mean the thousands of innocents dying every single day under the Regime's boot? Men, women, children; slaughtered just for speaking against you?"
"Sacrifices are unavoidable," Damian said without flinching. "We all knew that. If we have to kill thousands to protect billions-"
"Blah, blah, and blah," Harley cut in, twirling her gun around her finger and cocking it back with one hand, checking if the bullet was loaded. "There's no point debating it with him. He's just trying to stall. Let's wrap this up, kiddo."
Nightwing sneered. "You're the last person I'd expect to reach for the moral high ground, Harley."
"Meh. I may be crazy, but at least I don't mindlessly ride a Kryptonian dick like some of you do," she said with a grin, flashing her teeth.
Damian's lips tightened. He was about to move, eyes narrowing beneath the mask; but then his earpiece crackled to life.
"Cyborg," he muttered.
[Nightwing. One of my assault drones has been destroyed-] came the voice, but before Cyborg could finish, a new voice slid in- casual, amused, just on the edge of condescending.
"My, my… seems like you ladies are in a bit of a pinch, eh."
They all turned. Satoru was sitting atop a broken concrete pillar, elbow propped on his knee, chin resting against his palm. His Azure eyes glinted faintly beneath his bangs; mouth curled into the hint of a smirk.
Nightwing's earpiece buzzed again. [That's him. Be careful- he seems like a metahuman. I didn't get a read on his abilities. Backup is on route, but it'll take a minute. An elite squad is closest; I'm redirecting them to you,] Cyborg reported.
Damien's shoulders tightened for a heartbeat before he rolled the tension out. All he needed now was time; just enough to stall.
"And who're you supposed to be?" he asked, eyes cutting towards those eerily blue eyes.
"Oh, don't trouble yourself over insignificant old me," Satoru replied, rising smoothly to a full stand atop the pillar with a lazy, gravity defying motion. "I'm just a guy who wandered too far from home."
Before anyone could answer, he vanished without a sound. Damian stiffened, Huntress slid an arm under Batwoman's shoulders to brace her weight, and Harley stepped forward with her revolver angled low, covering the space.
A light touch landed on Damian's shoulder. He turned, startled, to find Satoru floating at his flank as if he'd been there the whole time.
Damian lashed out on instinct with a sharp backhand strike, but Satoru slipped past it with ease. He brushed Damian's arm aside, rotated on his heel, and snapped a full 360-degree kick into Damien's ribs.
The impact sent Damian hurtling through a fractured wall, concrete dust blooming around him. Satoru paused, expression creasing. 'Shit, I didn't mean to hit that hard.'
He straightened and steadied his breathing. 'Still not used to having this much cursed energy,' he noted with a small frown.
He glanced back toward the trio. From their exchange earlier, he could clearly see which side they were on, but he'd held back to listen; just to be sure.
"So, can anyone explain what's happening?" he asked, scratching the back of his head, tone almost apologetic.
Harley tilted her chin, lips quirking. "I don't know, pretty boy, you don't exactly look like-" Her words died mid-sentence. Her eyes flashed wide.
"Move!" she snapped, grabbing Huntress and Batwoman and throwing them sideways just as a line of muzzle flashes ignited in the distance.
Gunfire stitched the air. A dozen armored troops fanned out across the street; half breaking formation to pull Nightwing from the rubble while the front line opened up on Satoru in a relentless volley.
Harley looked back over her shoulder and saw him standing exactly where he'd been, untouched. The bullets had stopped in the air, halted a breath from his back, hovering like a ring of steel held on invisible strings.
"What the…" Huntress breathed, eyes narrowing. 'A metahuman?'
"So, not just a random chump huh," Harley said with a smirk, holstering her revolver as if she'd already seen enough.
Satoru lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. "What can I say? I have a habit of leaving an impression." His eyes glowed faintly azure as the corner of his mouth ticked up.
Batwoman tapped her earpiece. "Oracle, anything on him?"
[I've run every facial-recognition sweep I can access, and I'm coming up empty. No identity, no file, nothing on his abilities. Batman's spinning up a deeper scan. Gauge whether he's hostile; do not engage if you're uncertain,] Oracle replied.
"What about the evac?" Batwoman asked, jaw tight, still in pain.
[The group you flagged is already moving through a secure channel. Black Lightning has them and is rerouting to a safe location. We missed several others in the confusion, but it's not a total loss.]
Satoru's enhanced hearing caught enough to settle it. They really were trying to save who they could.
He turned to face the firing line, and as the gunfire tapered off, the street filled with the soft patter of dropping shells and the thin haze of smoke.
In front of him, hundreds of rounds hung suspended in a crescent, each one gleaming dully as it hovered inches from his body.
Through the drifting dust, his blue eyes burned brighter. He raised his hand, and the bullets began to spin, surrounded in a blue hue; slowly at first, then faster; yaw and roll aligning, each round taking a precise orientation like pieces snapping into place.
Damian, recognizing the coil before it struck, surged to his feet and shouted, "Clear out!" The warning came too late.
The air flashed with a dim burst of red energy, and the rounds snapped forward in a single, brutal release, launched with greater speed than the guns that had fired them.
They tore through the front line like a steel storm. Helmets ruptured, visors shattered, brain matter splattered, limbs snapped backward under the impact.
Bodies dropped where they stood, some thrown a bit back. Nightwing had sprung aside with a burst of speed, but not cleanly; one round punched through his upper arm, and another buried itself deep in his thigh, dropping him to a knee as he gritted his teeth against the pain.
The street went quiet except for the settling dust and the ragged breath of the living. Satoru lowered his hand as the last bullets clinked to the concrete.
Satoru was about to move when two beams of searing light tore across the ground in front of him, leaving a smoking line of melted concrete. He stopped instantly, his senses flaring.
He looked up, his eyes narrowing. 'Her energy levels… it's like I'm staring into the sun.'
A young woman hovered above, red cape drifting in the wind. A full bright-blue suit hugged her frame, the golden S on her chest gleaming against it. Her eyes glowed a fierce red, and her dark-blonde hair brushed her shoulders as she gracefully descended towards the ground.
More cursed energy didn't automatically guarantee a better performance. But for Satoru, it just did. However, even with the current boost flowing through him, Satoru wasn't sure how a direct clash would play out. He'd already learned not to get too arrogant, even with Infinity.
Though, that thought didn't stop the smirk tugging at his lips. He couldn't help himself.
Behind him, Harley's voice carried. "Well, look who finally decided to show up. The shining hope of mankind. Supergirl."
Supergirl ignored her. She landed silently at Damian's side and helped him up.
Instead of thanking her, he snapped, "What? You're not going after them?"
"We're falling back for now, the troops are already retreating," she said, her eyes sweeping over the carnage. "And you're injured."
Satoru could sense a flicker of regret, bordering guilt from the young woman, but it was all pressed down, before it could even affect her expression.
Damian tried to shake her off, but she gripped his shoulder firmly. "I can-" Her look cut him off. And he clenched his jaw but said nothing more.
With a final glance at the street, at the bodies; both of the dead soldiers and civilians, and at the four still standing, she gently lifted into the air and disappeared into the sky with him.
Satoru kept his gaze on the sky. 'Not today, then.'
Behind him, the three women, who had stood their ground through everything else, finally slumped to the ground. Relief bled out in heavy breaths.
"Was she really that much of a threat?" Satoru asked, glancing back, just to hear their response.
The three of them gave him the same look. The look you give someone who asks if the water is wet. Harley was the one to answer. "You're really not from around here, huh?"
"Well, I did say I got lost," he said with a small shrug.
Huntress and Batwoman exchanged a glance. Harley's grin came back. "Oh, pretty boy, you're in for one hell of a drama, then. What'd you say your name was again?"
Satoru stepped forward, then replied with a smile. "Satoru. Satoru Gojo."
A while later:
Satoru sat inside a medium-sized aircraft, flying through the sky. He hadn't planned on tagging along, but he needed information; and plenty of it. The more he'd seen, the clearer it became that this wasn't his world.
Batwoman, her red hair visible against the white light overhead, was stretched out on a cot while two medics tended to her burns.
Huntress sat on the opposite side of the cabin, adjusting her gear quietly. Harley had already been patched up and was humming to herself, tossing her freshly bandaged arm up and down as though she was trying out a new toy.
Satoru sat near the central comms. A device rested in his hand, glowing projections spreading across the air in front of him. He scrolled through images, reports, recordings; all the scraps they'd decided he could see.
Harley strolled over, spinning her bat once before putting it on her back. "Well, we can't exactly dump classified files in the lap of some random stranger. But since you saved our asses back there, this is the best I can do. Just general info anyway, stuff available for public."
Satoru didn't answer. He was too busy processing what he'd already absorbed.
'So… Joker tricks Superman into killing his pregnant wife… then nukes eleven million people- Supe's own city.'
He then skimmed through the evidence, images and videos showing the blood-soaked aftermath of Superman's regime, the brutality spreading across the globe.
'Killing that clown was one thing. A crash-out that's valid in my opinion. But…' His gaze lingered on images of executions, civilians dragged into the streets, whole regions burning under the banner of the Regime.
'This guy's obsessed with wiping out the word 'crime', itself, from the dictionary, even if it means slaughtering the innocent.'
It wasn't unfamiliar though. In Shibuya, he had made his choice, and innocents had paid the price. But this… this was different. This was them deliberately painting their own hands with innocent blood, justified under their law.
'Déjà vu,' he thought, twisting his nose in quiet irritation. Suguru's face flickered across his memory. Different worlds, same obsession.
The files made the imbalance clear. Harley's team, part of the Insurgency was fighting uphill, barely holding out against the Regime's dominance.
And then there was the bigger slap in the resistance's faces; the so-called new hope. Supergirl. Superman's cousin. Five years ago, he had paraded her arrival to the world, promising the world, a new dawn.
Satoru smirked faintly, recalling the woman who had stared him down like a living sun. 'Supergirl, huh…'
He looked up at Harley, still standing nearby. "So, even his most loyal followers didn't see the clown for what he was?"
Harley gave a short laugh and dropped onto the bench beside him. For once, the sharp, chaotic edge in her voice softened. "You know, there was a time I thought I loved him so much, I knew everything about him."
Her eyes grew distant, her smile tugging in a direction that didn't quite reach her voice. "But I guess that just means I was a shitty psychiatrist." The words slipped out more to herself than to him.
Then, like a switch, the grin snapped back, her voice laced with manic cheer again. "Guess I didn't understand him after all."
She bounced back up and wandered away, humming while she cleaned her painted bat.
Satoru shook his head faintly, 'yup, definitely crazy; not touching that mess.'
He turned back to the data in front of him, studying what little of the world they'd given him. He knew there was more. But even this much told him enough.
'I wonder how they're all doing.' He thought, the smile on his face softening. Then he shrugged, 'Meh, they'll take care of themselves, I trust them,' he thought, the excited smirk returning to his face.
To be continued!