The interrogation room—because that's clearly what it was, despite whatever euphemism the League probably used for it—was a stark contrast to the warm, social atmosphere of the main hall.
White walls. Harsh lighting. A single table with two chairs facing each other. No windows, at least none visible from the inside. The kind of room designed to make its occupants feel exposed, vulnerable, stripped of pretense.
David suspected it worked very well on most people.
He settled into one of the chairs, which creaked alarmingly under his Viltrumite weight. Batman took the seat across from him, placing his tablet on the table between them with deliberate precision.
"I'm going to ask you some questions," Batman said, his voice flat and clinical. "I expect honest answers."
"I'll do my best."
"That's not good enough." Batman's white lenses seemed to bore into David's soul. "I don't trust easily, Omni-Man. I especially don't trust powerful beings who suddenly change their behavior patterns after years of consistency."
David nodded slowly. "That's fair. I wouldn't trust me either, in your position."
Something flickered in Batman's expression—surprise, perhaps, at the easy admission.
"Then you understand why this conversation is necessary."
"I do."
Batman studied him for a long moment, then tapped his tablet. A holographic display flickered to life above the table, showing what appeared to be a timeline of Omni-Man's activities over the past fifteen years.
"You arrived on Earth approximately fifteen years ago," Batman began. "Your first documented appearance was stopping a tsunami from hitting the coast of Japan. Since then, you've maintained a consistent pattern: responding to large-scale natural disasters, repelling extraterrestrial threats, occasionally intervening in conflicts that threaten mass casualties."
"That sounds accurate."
"You've also consistently refused all attempts at personal connection. You rejected League membership thirteen times. You've never attended a social function. You've never shared personal information with any other hero. You've never—" Batman paused, consulting his tablet, "—expressed any philosophy or worldview beyond 'I'm here to help.'"
"I was... private."
"You were isolated," Batman corrected. "Deliberately, systematically isolated. And now, suddenly, you're attending parties, making philosophical speeches about hope and connection, and charming two of the League's most formidable women."
David blinked. "I'm sorry—charming?"
Batman ignored the question. "What changed?"
Everything, David thought. Literally everything about who I am changed. But I can't tell you that.
"I had a... transformative experience," David said carefully. "I can't share the details, but it forced me to confront some uncomfortable truths about myself. About the path I was on."
"What kind of experience?"
"A near-death experience. Or something like it."
This, at least, was technically true. Dying definitely counted as a near-death experience. The "near" part was debatable, but semantics had never been David's strong suit.
Batman's eyes narrowed. "Our sensors detected an unusual energy signature in your apartment approximately thirty hours ago. Something we couldn't identify. Care to explain?"
Thirty hours ago. That would have been right around when I... arrived. When I woke up in this body.
"I can't explain it," David said honestly. "I don't fully understand what happened myself. All I know is that I woke up and everything was... different. I was different. My priorities, my perspective, even my emotions—all of it shifted."
"That's convenient."
"It's the truth."
Batman leaned forward slightly, his presence somehow becoming even more intimidating. "Let me be direct, Omni-Man. You are one of the most powerful beings on this planet. You've demonstrated abilities that rival or exceed most of our heavy hitters. For fifteen years, you've operated independently, keeping everyone at arm's length."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.
"And now you want us to believe that you've suddenly had a change of heart. That you've decided to embrace connection and community after a decade and a half of solitude. That you're no longer the cold, distant figure who looked at humanity like we were... beneath his notice."
David felt a chill run down his spine. Batman's assessment was uncomfortably accurate—not for him, but for the original Omni-Man. The real Nolan Grayson, who had probably viewed Earth exactly that way.
"I understand your suspicion," David said quietly. "And I don't expect you to trust me based on words alone. Trust has to be earned through actions, over time."
"Then why are you here tonight? Why the sudden desire to socialize?"
"Because isolation was killing me." The words came out before David could stop them, raw and honest in a way he hadn't intended. "Not physically—I'm not sure anything can kill me physically—but spiritually. I was... empty. Going through the motions of heroism without any of the heart. Saving people because it was my mission, not because I actually cared."
He met Batman's gaze directly, willing the other man to see his sincerity.
"I don't want to be that person anymore. I want to actually care about the people I protect. I want to be part of something larger than myself. I want—" He paused, searching for the right words. "I want to be a hero. A real hero. Not just a powerful being who happens to do heroic things."
Silence stretched between them.
Batman's expression remained unreadable, but something in his posture shifted almost imperceptibly.
"That's a remarkably self-aware statement," he said finally. "Most beings with your power level never achieve that kind of insight."
"Like I said, I'm a slow learner."
"Hmm." Batman tapped his tablet, and the holographic display changed, showing a different set of data. "Let's talk about your abilities. Our records indicate you possess superhuman strength, speed, flight, and durability. You've demonstrated resistance to extreme temperatures, pressures, and apparently the vacuum of space. Is there anything else you'd like to add?"
David considered the question. In the comics, Viltrumites had a fairly specific power set—similar to Kryptonians in many ways, but with some key differences. No heat vision, no freeze breath, no X-ray vision. Just raw physical power, flight, and near-invulnerability.
"I don't have many exotic abilities," David said. "No energy projection, no psychic powers. Just strength, speed, and toughness."
"And longevity?"
The question caught David off guard. "What?"
"You've been operating for fifteen years and you haven't aged visibly. Most human-appearing heroes show at least some signs of aging over that time period. You look exactly the same as you did when you first appeared."
Right. Viltrumites age incredibly slowly. That's why they can conquer galaxies—they have centuries to do it.
"I age slowly," David admitted. "Very slowly. I'm not sure of the exact rate."
"How old are you? Biologically speaking."
David hesitated. The original Nolan Grayson was hundreds of years old, maybe older. But he didn't know the specific number, and making something up seemed risky.
"Old enough that I've stopped counting," he said finally. "Time becomes... less relevant when you have so much of it."
Batman made a note on his tablet. "And your origins? You've never disclosed where you came from."
This was dangerous territory. If David claimed to be a Viltrumite, Batman might research the species and discover their true nature—if such information existed in this universe. But if he lied about his origins, he'd have to maintain that lie indefinitely.
"I came from very far away," David said carefully. "A planet that no longer exists, for all practical purposes. I don't like to talk about it."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer I'm prepared to give right now." David kept his voice calm but firm. "I have my own traumas, Batman. My own painful memories. I'm not ready to share all of them, even in the interest of building trust."
Another long pause.
Then, surprisingly, Batman nodded.
"Fair enough. Everyone is entitled to their secrets." He leaned back slightly in his chair. "But I want to be clear about something, Omni-Man. I will be watching you. Closely. If you show any signs of reverting to your previous behavior—or worse, any signs of hostile intent—I will take action."
"What kind of action?"
Batman's expression didn't change. "The kind of action I take when planetary-level threats need to be neutralized."
The threat hung in the air between them.
David should have been intimidated. Batman was, after all, just a human—incredibly skilled, brilliant, dangerous, but ultimately mortal. In a straight physical confrontation, David could probably incapacitate him in seconds.
But he wasn't intimidated. He was... impressed.
Here was a man with no superpowers, no cosmic abilities, no alien physiology—and he was staring down one of the most powerful beings on the planet without a trace of fear. He was protecting his world, his friends, his family of heroes, with nothing but his intelligence and his will.
This is what heroism looks like, David thought. Not the power—the commitment. The willingness to stand up to threats you can't possibly defeat, because it's the right thing to do.
"I understand," David said quietly. "And I respect it. You're doing what you need to do to protect the people you care about. That's exactly what a hero should do."
Batman studied him for another long moment.
Then he stood, gathering his tablet.
"I don't trust you," he said. "Not yet. But I'm willing to give you a chance to prove yourself. Don't waste it."
He walked toward the door, then paused.
"And Omni-Man? Diana and Dinah are my friends. If you hurt either of them—emotionally or otherwise—the planetary-level countermeasures will be the least of your concerns."
Before David could respond—or even process what Batman was implying—the Dark Knight was gone, the door sliding shut behind him.
David sat alone in the interrogation room, utterly confused.
What is everyone talking about? Why does everyone keep warning me about Diana and Dinah? I'm just trying to be friendly. Is there some superhero social protocol I'm missing?
He shook his head and stood, rolling his massive shoulders.
Whatever. I'll figure it out eventually. Right now, I need to get back to the party and continue making a good impression.
Unbeknownst to David, he was being watched.
A viewing room overlooked the interrogation chamber, its one-way glass appearing as a blank wall from the inside. Diana and Dinah stood at this window, watching the conversation unfold with rapt attention.
"He's good," Dinah said, her arms crossed. "Really good. I almost believe him."
"I do believe him," Diana replied, her eyes never leaving David's form. "He's telling the truth—or at least, what he believes to be the truth."
"How can you tell?"
"His body language. His eyes. The way he speaks." Diana shook her head slowly. "I've met liars, Dinah. Some of the best in history. Nolan isn't lying. Whatever happened to him, whatever his 'transformative experience' was, it was real."
Dinah glanced at her friend, noting the intensity in Diana's gaze. "You're really invested in this, aren't you?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean you've been watching him all night like he's the most fascinating thing you've seen in centuries." Dinah smirked. "And that blouse you're wearing? That's not your usual Justice League gathering attire."
Diana's cheeks colored slightly—a rare sight on the Amazon princess. "I don't know what you're implying."
"Sure you don't." Dinah laughed. "Diana, I've known you for years. I've seen you interact with kings, gods, and everything in between. You've never looked at any of them the way you look at him."
"He's... interesting."
"Uh-huh."
"He is! Last night, when I confronted him, he spoke about heroism with such passion, such genuine conviction. Most powerful beings become arrogant, cynical, detached from the people they protect. But Nolan..." Diana trailed off, watching as David stood and stretched in the room below. "He talked about the importance of helping ordinary people. Of showing them hope. It was like listening to someone describe a religious awakening."
Dinah's expression softened. "You miss it, don't you? The idealism. The purity of purpose."
Diana was quiet for a moment. "This world has become so complicated. So morally gray. Sometimes I wonder if the old values—truth, justice, compassion—even matter anymore. And then I meet someone like Nolan, who seems to embody those values despite having every reason not to..."
"You find hope," Dinah finished.
"Yes." Diana finally tore her gaze away from the window to look at her friend. "I find hope."
Dinah considered this, then shrugged. "Well, if you're going to fall for a ridiculously powerful alien with a mustache, at least this one seems like a good guy."
"I'm not falling for anyone."
"Diana, you wore a low-cut blouse to a Justice League gathering. A gathering you knew he would be attending. You've touched him approximately seventeen times tonight—yes, I counted—and you literally held his hand during the party."
Diana opened her mouth to protest, then closed it.
"I... may have been more forward than usual," she admitted.
"You think?" Dinah grinned. "It's cute, honestly. The Princess of Themyscira, champion of the Amazons, brought low by a handsome alien with nice arms."
"His arms are irrelevant."
"His arms are incredible and you know it."
Diana couldn't quite suppress a smile. "They are... aesthetically pleasing."
"There we go. Honesty." Dinah looked back through the window, where David was now walking toward the door. "So what's your play? How do you win the heart of an emotionally repressed alien powerhouse?"
"I'm not trying to win anything. I simply wish to... get to know him better. To understand what caused his transformation." Diana paused. "And to help him integrate with the League, of course. That is my duty as leader."
"Right. Duty." Dinah nodded sagely. "That's why you keep finding excuses to touch him. Duty."
"You were touching him too!"
"Only to see how he'd react! And also because those arms really are incredible." Dinah held up her hands in mock surrender. "But I'm not the one who's been distracted all evening. I'm not the one who kept steering the conversation back to him. I'm not the one who—"
"Enough." Diana's tone was firm but not angry. "I acknowledge that I may be... more interested in Nolan than is strictly professional. But he's also completely oblivious to any form of romantic attention. Did you see his face when you complimented him? He genuinely thought it was a test."
Dinah snorted. "Yeah, that was adorable. And a little sad." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "Do you think he's actually that dense, or is it an act?"
"I don't think it's an act. His confusion seemed genuine." Diana frowned. "Perhaps his species doesn't engage in courtship the way humans do. Or perhaps he's simply inexperienced in such matters."
"Inexperienced? He's apparently centuries old."
"Age doesn't always correlate with romantic experience. Some beings are so focused on duty, on purpose, that they never develop those aspects of themselves." Diana's voice grew softer. "It would explain his isolation. Not just a strategic choice, but a genuine inability to connect."
"And now he wants to learn."
"Yes. I think he does." Diana watched as the door to the interrogation room opened and David stepped out. "I think he desperately wants to learn how to be... human. How to connect. How to care."
"And you want to be his teacher?"
Diana didn't answer immediately. She watched David look around the corridor, his expression a mix of determination and uncertainty. He looked like a man trying to navigate a world he didn't quite understand.
"I want to be his friend," she said finally. "Whatever else may come... friendship first. He needs people he can trust. People who will be patient with him as he learns."
Dinah studied her friend's profile for a long moment.
"You really do care about him, don't you? And not just because of those arms."
"The arms are a bonus," Diana admitted, and Dinah laughed.
"Come on." Dinah grabbed Diana's hand, pulling her toward the door. "Let's go rescue your oblivious alien from the corridor before Batman decides to interrogate him again."
They left the viewing room, neither noticing the slight flicker of movement in the shadows—the suggestion of a cape, the hint of white lenses—that indicated they had not been alone.
Batman watched them go, then returned his attention to the data on his tablet.
Interesting, he thought. Very interesting.
He had work to do.
David found himself ambushed almost immediately upon leaving the interrogation room.
"Nolan!" Diana's voice rang out, and he turned to see her approaching with Dinah in tow. Both women were smiling, and both seemed inexplicably pleased to see him.
"Diana. Dinah." He nodded to each of them. "I survived the interrogation, it seems."
"Batman didn't break out the kryptonite handcuffs, so you must have made a good impression," Dinah said, falling into step beside him. Her hand found his arm again—was that just how she walked? It seemed inefficient.
"We don't have kryptonite handcuffs," Diana said. "We don't have any kryptonite. There are no Kryptonians in this universe."
"It was a joke, Diana."
"I know. I was providing context for Nolan's benefit." Diana moved to his other side, her shoulder brushing against his. "Speaking of which, Nolan—I noticed you seemed unfamiliar with some aspects of League culture during the party. If you'd like, I could arrange a more... private orientation. Help you understand the dynamics, the history, the expectations."
"That's very kind of you," David said. "I would appreciate that."
"Wonderful. Perhaps tomorrow? We could meet at my apartment." Diana's voice was perfectly casual. "I have a lovely view of the city. Very relaxing."
"Your apartment?"
"Unless you'd prefer somewhere more public. A restaurant, perhaps, or—"
"No, your apartment is fine. I'm sure it's very nice."
Dinah made a sound that might have been a suppressed laugh.
"Excellent." Diana smiled warmly. "Shall we say... seven o'clock? I'll prepare dinner."
"You're going to cook for me?"
"Is that a problem?"
"No! No, I just—" David struggled to find the right words. "That's very generous. You don't have to go to any trouble."
"It's no trouble at all. I enjoy cooking." Diana's hand found his forearm, squeezing gently. "I find it relaxing. Therapeutic, even. And it will give us plenty of time to talk."
"Okay. Yes. That sounds... good."
Is this normal? David wondered. Do Justice League members regularly cook dinner for each other? Is this some kind of team-building exercise?
"I should probably get going," he said, suddenly aware of how long he'd been at the Watchtower. "It's getting late. On Earth, I mean. Time zones are confusing up here."
"Of course." Diana's hand lingered on his arm for a moment before releasing. "Thank you for coming tonight, Nolan. It meant a great deal to all of us."
"Thank you for having me."
Dinah stepped forward and, before David could react, stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. "Don't be a stranger, big guy. And good luck tomorrow night."
"Good luck? Why would I need—"
But Dinah was already walking away, waving over her shoulder.
David turned to Diana, hoping for clarification, but she simply smiled mysteriously.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Nolan. Seven o'clock."
She leaned in—for a moment, David thought she was going to kiss his cheek too—but she simply placed her hand on his chest, right over where a human heart would be.
"Sleep well."
Then she was gone, walking toward the main hall with that fluid, warrior's grace.
David stood in the corridor, alone, trying to process what had just happened.
Tomorrow. Dinner. Diana's apartment.
That's... that's just a friendly orientation session. Right? That's definitely what that is.
Why does everyone keep wishing me luck?
He shook his head and made his way to the docking bay, launching himself into space with more force than strictly necessary.
The stars wheeled around him as he oriented himself toward Earth.
I'm sure it's nothing, he told himself. Diana is just being welcoming. That's what leaders do. They make new team members feel included.
The low-cut blouse is probably just... a fashion choice. The touching is probably just... cultural. The private dinner at her apartment is probably just... efficient.
Everything is perfectly normal.
He flew toward the blue marble of Earth, completely oblivious to the fact that two of the most formidable women in the universe were currently discussing the best strategies for capturing his attention.
In his defense, he had a lot on his mind.
Being a hero was complicated.