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Chapter 23 — Clash of Titans
The box hummed.
Not a gentle hum, not a mechanical hum, but a living hum. Like a heart beating where no heart should exist. Batman felt it in his gloves, vibrating up his arms, crawling into his chest like static.
Hal hovered above him, arms crossed, ring glowing brighter. "So… what's the verdict, Bat-brain? You're holding a ticking alien Rubik's cube and it keeps saying the name 'Dark-Side.' Which, by the way, sounds like a heavy metal band."
Batman didn't answer. His eyes tracked the faint symbols etched into the metal surface. They were shifting, reconfiguring, alien geometry folding into new shapes. A map. A code. A call.
Hal leaned closer, his cocky grin faltering. "You look like you've seen this before."
Batman's jaw tightened.
"No. But someone has."
And before Hal could ask who, the sewer ceiling shattered.
A streak of red and blue dropped like a hammer, knocking Hal out of the air and slamming Batman against the wall in one single motion. The box clattered into the muck, still pulsing.
"Stay away from that!" a voice thundered.
Hal groaned, coughing sewer water out of his mouth. His ring flared up. "Oh, what the hell—"
Batman pushed himself off the wall, his armor dented. He already knew. He didn't even need to look up. The cape, the emblem, the presence that made the very air heavier.
Superman.
---
The Kryptonian's eyes glowed faint red in the dim sewer light. His jaw was hard, his tone sharper than steel.
"You've been working with them."
Batman's eyes narrowed.
"Them?"
"The things that have been abducting people," Superman growled. He stepped forward, fists clenched. "Parademons. You've been leaving a trail. Luring them here. Why?"
Hal shot up into the air, ring ready, his usual smirk gone. "Whoa, time out! Time out! We're the good guys, cape-boy. Trust me, I would know."
Superman's gaze snapped to him. "Green Lantern." His voice carried no warmth, only suspicion. "And you expect me to believe Gotham's vigilante is innocent?"
Batman said nothing. He never explained himself. He let others talk, burn themselves out.
But Superman wasn't a man who burned out. He was a furnace.
His hand lashed out, faster than Hal could react. Faster than almost anyone could react. He grabbed Batman by the throat and slammed him into the wall. The stone cracked.
"Talk."
Batman's breathing stayed steady, his voice even. "If I was with them, you'd already be dead."
For half a second, something flickered in Superman's expression. Then it hardened again.
Hal raised his ring. "Hey! Hands off the Bat. I don't care how shiny your cape is, we're all on the same—"
Superman spun, heat vision flaring. Hal barely threw up a shield in time, the sewer walls glowing molten red where the beams cut across. The tunnel shook. Rats screeched and scattered into the dark.
"Okay," Hal grunted, straining under the heat, "note to self: never invite this guy to poker night."
---
Batman used the distraction. His gauntlet flared, a concussive charge blasting against Superman's grip. It didn't break the Kryptonian's hand — nothing on Earth could — but it loosened him enough for Batman to twist free and roll across the sewer floor.
He was up instantly, stance tight, batarangs ready.
Superman blurred forward again — but this time, Batman anticipated. He launched a flash pellet, flooding the tunnel with white light and sonic shriek.
For most men, it would blind and deafen. For Superman, it was just… irritating. His eyes narrowed through the flare. He didn't stop.
Batman's mind ran calculations. Speed. Strength. Invulnerability. No weaknesses exposed. Unless…
"Ring-boy!" Batman snapped.
Hal blinked. "You mean me?"
"Contain him."
Hal grinned despite the sweat on his forehead. "Now you're speaking my language."
He formed a massive green construct — a cage with glowing, buzzing bars — and slammed it down around Superman.
For three seconds, it worked.
Superman's fist punched through the construct like it was wet glass.
"Not working!" Hal shouted, retreating backward. "This guy's worse than my ex!"
---
Superman advanced again. His voice thundered in the claustrophobic sewer.
"Why do you have the Box?"
Batman didn't answer. He moved instead — fast, deliberate. Grapnel gun fired, pulling the Mother Box into his palm. He slid back, cape flaring, eyes never leaving Superman.
Superman's gaze locked on the Box. His voice dropped to a growl.
"That doesn't belong here."
"And you do?" Batman countered.
The words landed heavier than any punch.
For a second — a long second — Superman's expression shifted. Doubt. Confusion. Anger. All tangled together.
Then Hal, ever the peacekeeper with the worst timing, butted in.
"Okay, okay, everyone breathe. Big blue, this is Batman. Bat, this is Superman. I know you both suck at introductions, but can we not level the city tonight?"
Neither of them looked away.
The Box pulsed again, louder this time. The sewer vibrated. Somewhere above them, the city's power grid flickered.
Superman's fists unclenched slightly.
"What do you know about Darkseid?"
Batman's reply was flat, but his mind raced.
"Not enough."
Superman's eyes stayed on him, glowing faintly red. Batman's stayed just as sharp, unflinching.
And Hal, caught between them, groaned.
"Yep. This is my life now. Babysitting a space god and a billionaire in a bat suit."
---
But none of them saw the shadow above.
None of them noticed the pair of Parademon eyes, watching from the cracks in the ceiling.
None of them heard the whisper that wasn't a whisper, carried through the Mother Box like a heartbeat.
"Darkseid… is…"
And Gotham's storm was only beginning.