Every head turned toward him. Flash was trembling slightly, face pale but determined.
"Barry?" Superman said, surprised. "What—"
"I have something else to report," Barry said, voice tight with urgency. "Something that all of you need to see. Now."
Batman's eyes narrowed. "Flash, this isn't the time for—"
"It's exactly the time," Flash interrupted, which drew shocked looks from several League members. The Flash interrupting Batman was unheard of. "Because if I'm right about this, then everything we've been discussing—Orm's attack, the coming war, all of it—is just the beginning."
He pulled out a small device from his belt and connected it to the main display. "Gideon, transfer the files."
The AI's voice responded immediately: "Transfer complete, Mr. Allen."
The holographic display shifted, and suddenly the room was filled with floating newspaper articles. But these weren't normal articles—they flickered and glitched, their headlines constantly shifting and changing.
"Eternal Eclipse: Justice League Vanishes Amid Crisis"
"Tides of War: Atlantis Declares War"
"Flash Missing: Vanishes in Crisis"
"Madness of Gotham Spreads to Metropolis"
"Justice League Disbands: CADMUS Security Force Takes Charge"
"War of Gods Devastates Australia"
"The Fall of Supergirl: Dies in Crisis"
"Saiyan God Vanishes with Three-Headed Dragon"
Around the table, reactions were immediate—shock and alarm rippling across every face.
Batman's eyes narrowed. "What is this, Flash?"
"Articles from the future," Flash said quietly. "From the Time Vault. From the database of Eobard Thawne—the Reverse-Flash."
Questions erupted around the table.
"The Reverse-Flash?"
"A time vault?"
"These are from the future?"
"How long have you known about this?"
Superman raised his hand, silencing the chaos. "Flash, I think you need to explain from the beginning."
Flash took a deep breath. "Most of you know about Eobard Thawne—the speedster from the future who killed my mom and tried to destroy my life. What you don't know is that he had a hidden base beneath STAR Labs. A Time Vault with technology from his era, including a database of historical records. Newspaper articles about major events. About us."
"And you're just sharing this now?" Green Arrow said incredulously.
"When we first found the vault, these articles seemed like corrupted data," Flash explained. "They were unstable, constantly changing, impossible to pin down. We thought they were errors from a timeline that no longer existed. After all, Thawne was trying to change the past—it made sense his records would be unreliable."
"But now?" Batman prompted.
"Now I think I was wrong. These aren't glitches. They're possibilities. Potential futures that could happen depending on the choices we make."
Superman stepped closer to the display, studying the shifting headlines. "The timeline is in flux. Multiple possible futures overlapping."
"That's what Gideon told us," Caitlin added from the screen connecting Team Flash. "The AI says the timeline is unstable. Multiple divergent possibilities are preventing clear resolution."
"Which means the future isn't written yet," Flash continued. "Every choice we make determines which possibility becomes real. And after yesterday's attack..." He pointed to the headline about Atlantis declaring war. "I think we're already on the path to at least one of these futures."
Aquaman stared at the "Tides of War" headline, face ashen. "Are you saying this is inevitable? That no matter what we do, Atlantis and the surface go to war?"
"No," Flash said firmly. "That's exactly what I'm not saying. These are possibilities, not certainties. We can still change course. But we need to understand what we're facing." He gestured to the flickering headlines. "The League vanishing. Me disappearing. Some kind of madness spreading from Gotham to Metropolis. CADMUS replacing us. A war between gods. Kara dying. Orach disappearing alongside a three-headed dragon. Each of these can be prevented—if we're careful."
"CADMUS?" Green Arrow frowned. "Isn't that Amanda Waller's group? The one that disbanded after Orach's warning? You're saying it reforms?"
"Maybe. Maybe not." Flash's expression was grim. "That's exactly my point. CADMUS doesn't exist right now—so maybe that future is already averted. Or maybe the conditions that would resurrect it are still forming. We need to ensure it stays dead."
Shazam's face went pale. "Guys, a dragon? Like seriously, a dragon? Like the one from Darkseid's invasion?" His voice dropped. "If this three-headed dragon is also from the higher realms, and Orach is fighting that..."
"Then it's from beyond our universe," J'onn finished quietly.
Superman scanned the articles. "These events might be connected. Like a chain reaction—each crisis triggering the next."
"Like dominoes," Batman said studying the articles. "Set up and waiting to fall. The question is—which one falls first?"
"Orm's attack yesterday," Cyborg said analyzing the articles. "That may very well be the catalyst. Everything may follow from that."
"Not necessarily," Constantine interjected, studying the articles. "Look at the dates—oh wait, you can't, because they keep bloody changing. But the chronology feels wrong. Some of these crises feel simultaneous. Or maybe even earlier than the Atlantis thing."
"The 'Madness of Gotham' headline bothers me," Batman said, voice tight. "What does that mean?"
"We don't know," Flash admitted. "Gideon couldn't provide details. The data's too unstable."
Batman fell silent, his expression thoughtful. Gotham had been relatively stable since Orach's return—the peace undeniable on the surface. But what if something was brewing beneath? A calm before the storm?
"Why is the future in flux in the first place?" Zatnna asked. "Shouldn't time be more stable?"
Flash looked around the table, expression grave. "I think I know why the timeline is so unstable."
"Orach," Batman said quietly.
Flash nodded. "When he fixed what I broke with Flashpoint, he didn't just repair the timeline—I believe he took complete control of it. Remade our universe from the very beginning with his power. Otherwise, we'd be seeing subtle differences in our lives, the lingering consequences of time travel. Whenever someone goes back in time, the space-time continuum breaks. No matter how hard we try to fix it, complete reversion is impossible. There are always changes. But for our lives to remain nearly unchanged after my mistake, he achieved the impossible—his power over time must be near absolute. And that kind of power, his very presence, could theoretically create ripples. Possibilities that shouldn't exist become possible. Futures that were fixed become fluid."
"So as long as Orach is here, the timeline remains unstable," Zatara said thoughtfully. "Multiple futures can coexist until the moment of decision collapses the wave function into a single reality."
"In English?" Green Arrow requested.
"Schrödinger's cat," Cyborg translated. "Until we make the critical choices, all these disasters are simultaneously happening and not happening. We're living in a quantum state of potential catastrophes."
"That's horrifying," Black Canary said.
"That's our reality," Batman corrected. He turned to Flash. "Does Orach know about this?"
"I don't know," Flash admitted. "But given his understanding of time, he must sense something is different."
Silence fell.
"So what do we do?" Laira asked, frustration clear. "Just accept that we're living in a minefield of potential apocalypses and hope we don't step wrong?"
"This entire thing is an existential migraine," Constantine groaned, rubbing his temples. "I need a drink."
Zatanna elbowed him sharply in the ribs, making him wince.
"Maybe we're thinking about this wrong," John Stewart said suddenly. "Everyone's talking about preventing these crises, making the right choices. But what if the problem is that we're reacting instead of acting? What if we need to take control before it spirals further?"
"What are you suggesting?" Superman asked.
John took a deep breath. "A temporary global security protocol. Not martial law exactly, but a coordinated response—the League working directly with world governments to stabilize the situation. We identify and neutralize the variables that could trigger these crises before they spiral out of control."
"You mean take over," Superman said flatly.
"I mean take responsibility," John corrected. "Look at what's happening. Orm manipulated everyone—governments, media, us. He's pulling strings from the shadows, and politicians with their own agendas are making everything worse. And he's probably not alone. You heard the recording—the madman has alliances. If we want to stop this from escalating, to prevent those futures from becoming reality, maybe we need to step in more directly. Temporarily, of course. Just until the crisis passes."
The room erupted.
"That's insane—"
"We can't just take over—"
"Do you even hear yourself—"
"ENOUGH!" Batman's voice cut through the chaos. "Let him finish."
John nodded gratefully and took a breath. "I know how it sounds. But think about it. When we faced alien invasions—Steppenwolf, the Kryptonians, the Thanagarians, Darkseid—in each event, humanity set aside everything and united for survival. The threat from the stars brought us together. But now? Where's that unity? Our homegrown threats are just as dangerous. Maybe more so, because they know exactly how to manipulate us from within."
He turned to Batman. "Think about the enemies you've faced. Mr. Freeze, Poison Ivy—they're under Orach's care now and will likely never threaten anyone again. But before that? They caused massive destruction. And the Joker—that agent of chaos whose madness has brought pain and suffering to countless people. Doesn't it bother you that he's just... disappeared?"
Batman's eyes narrowed as something clicked into place.
John shifted his attention to Superman. "And you. Parasite nearly killed all of us. Orach rescued us—but if he hadn't been there, how many of us would still be here right now?"
Then he looked at Flash, his voice softer but no less firm. "Barry. With all due respect, you terrify me. If I didn't know you—if I didn't trust you—I'd want to hurt you, strip you of your powers and seal you away for good. You altered time itself. You altered our lives. I sympathize with your loss, I truly do. If you'd needed to vent, needed a friend, many of us would have been there. But instead, you chose to travel back in time and create an entire timeline without considering the consequences. Do you understand how dangerous that is? How selfish?"
Flash flinched.
John pressed on. "You said it yourself—even if someone tried to fix a timeline, it could never be one hundred percent reverted. Our lives would be forever changed. These are our lives, Barry. You don't get to play god with them."
He let the silence hang for a moment before continuing. "I've realized or rather remembered something. We humans are flawed. Whether we're champions or criminals, we all have the potential to do tremendous good—and tremendous harm. If one day we're compromised, who other than Orach could stop us?"
John gestured to the flickering articles. "Right now we know we face Orm, someone we honestly underestimated, but through his manipulation, he's turned the world against Atlantis, and now the world is heading toward war. So I'll say it again—maybe we need to consider a more direct approach. Not permanently. Just until the crisis passes and we can prevent those futures from becoming reality. Then we step back and return control."
Silence fell. Many wanted to refute his words immediately, but they couldn't. The points hit too hard.
Batman stayed silent. John Stewart had raised exactly the reasons why he maintained contingencies for nearly every Leaguer.
A soft chuckle suddenly broke the tense silence, attracting everyone's attention.
Superman narrowed his eyes. "What's funny about this, Cheetah?"
"Hahaha," Cheetah couldn't hold it in and laughed openly. "The irony! Oh, this is rich."
"Barbara, what's wrong with you?" Black Canary asked, troubled.
None of them thought this was appropriate.
"Hey Cheetah, tell us, love—what's so funny? I fancy a laugh too," Constantine asked with a smirk.
"Ha… fine. I'm laughing because—look at yourselves." She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms and legs beneath the table, a smile playing on her lips. "Think about what John just proposed. Really think about it. Now tell me—doesn't this whole situation sound ironically familiar?"
Many exchanged confused glances.
Batman's eyes narrowed slightly, and after a beat, he released a quiet breath of understanding.
J'onn, after a moment, also chuckled.
"J'onn?" Superman asked, confused.
Zatara laughed as well.
"Dad?" Zatanna looked bewildered.
Then Laira too couldn't help but, let out a dry laugh.
"Laira, you too? Okay, seriously, what's the joke?" Hal asked.
John sighed and met Cheetah's gaze, understanding dawning. "I see your point."
Cheetah nodded, her smile still in place. She swept her gaze past them all. "Think hard and you'll see it—right now, in this moment, we're all standing in Orach's shoes."
She spread her hands on the table. "John is not wrong. Humanity is flawed. Consider us—this world's champions. With one hand, we could save the world from itself by asserting our power. With the other, we allow the world to make its mistakes and grow stronger from them. Some among us, just moments ago, were advocating for Orach to take action. Can't you see the irony? It shouldn't be lost on anyone present."
Understanding dawned around the table.
"We're facing the same dilemma he faces," J'onn said quietly. "The choice between intervention and allowing natural consequences to unfold."
"Exactly," Cheetah said with a subtle nod. "We have the power to impose our will, to 'fix' things according to our judgment. But should we? Isn't that precisely what we were debating when we wanted Orach to intervene more? We wanted him to save everyone, prevent every tragedy. But now that we're in a similar position, we're debating whether to take control ourselves."
Constantine whistled. "Bloody hell. She's right. We're sitting here arguing about whether to play god, and five minutes ago we were upset that Orach isn't playing god more often. The hypocrisy is almost poetic."
"It's not hypocrisy," Green Arrow said defensively. "It's different. We're from this world. We understand—"
"Do we?" Cheetah interrupted, her voice sharp but measured. "Do we really understand better than the billions of people who'd have no voice in our 'temporary' takeover?" She leaned forward, eyes fixed on John. "Look, I get where you're coming from. Your plan makes sense if you only look at the immediate threat. But zoom out for a second."
She gestured around the table. "If we do what you're suggesting—even with the best intentions, even temporarily—we terrify the very people we're trying to protect. We become living proof that powered individuals are a threat to human freedom."
Her expression hardened. "And here's the real kicker—that might be exactly what Orm wants. Think about his playbook so far. He's a master manipulator. He's already turned public opinion against Atlantis, made humanity see them as the enemy. So what's his endgame? What's the perfect way to seal his victory?"
She leaned back, spreading her hands. "Make us the villains. If we seize power—even temporarily—we hand him the narrative on a silver platter. Suddenly we're the tyrants. The ones who think might makes right. The oppressors who believe our abilities give us the right to decide for everyone else."
"And Orm?" She paused for effect. "He becomes the hero. The visionary who warned the world about the danger we pose. We'd give him everything he needs to unite not just Atlantis, but every human who's ever feared what we represent."
Her voice dropped, more serious now. "And it's not just Orm. This applies to any of our enemies with half a brain. We'd be handing them the perfect weapon against us—our own overreach."
"But if we do nothing, people are going to die!" John insisted. "If we don't act, if we let politicians driven by fear and anger make decisions—"
"Then people will die," Cheetah said bluntly. "And it will be tragic. But that's their choice to make, not ours. The moment we decide we have the right to take that choice away, we become exactly what you warned us about. We become the threat that requires someone like Orach to stop us."
Flash spoke up, voice quiet but firm. "She's right. John's argument is tempting because it comes from a good place. But it's the same logic that led me to create Flashpoint. I thought I knew better. I thought I could fix things. And I nearly destroyed everything."
He looked around the table. "These futures we're seeing—they're warnings. Not just about external threats, but about the choices we might make. What if the headline about our group disbanding and the 'CADMUS Security Force Takes Charge' isn't about CADMUS rising again to seize power? What if it's about us crossing a line, and the world deciding they need protection from us?"
The weight of that possibility settled over them. They couldn't deny it—they knew of another universe where this had happened, where Amanda Waller's counterpart manipulated the narrative and turned their counterparts into villains.
"So what do we do?" Green Arrow asked. "Because sitting here philosophizing is great, but there's still a war about to start and a madman harvesting souls for God knows what."
Superman leaned forward. "We do what we've always done. We work within the system, not above it. J'onn and I will go to the UN, present our evidence, and buy us time. The rest focus on finding and capturing Orm, so the world can see that Atlantis isn't the enemy."
"And if the UN doesn't listen?" Black Canary asked. "If they attack Atlantis anyway?"
"Then we position ourselves between them," Batman said firmly. "We make it clear that any attack on Atlantis has to go through us first. Not as enforcers but as buffers, keeping the peace."
"That could work," J'onn said thoughtfully. "If we make ourselves mediators rather than rulers, we maintain our moral authority while still preventing escalation."
"But it means we might have to oppose our own governments," Cyborg pointed out. "Defend Atlantis against surface nations. Are we prepared for that?"
"We defend innocent people," Batman said, his voice cold and unwavering. "It doesn't matter if they're Atlantean or from the surface. If surface nations attack Atlantis without just cause, we stand with Atlantis. If Atlantis attacks the surface without provocation, we stand with the surface. Our loyalty isn't to flags or borders—it's to this world. Surface dweller or sea dweller, we're all part of the same humanity. We champions of Earth can never afford to forget that."
"Easier said than done," Constantine muttered. "But I suppose it's better than the alternative."
Many exchanged glances, then nodded in agreement.
Superman stood. "Batman's right. Our loyalty is to this world—and to justice. It's decided, then. J'onn and I will handle the UN. Batman, you coordinate the search for Orm. Everyone else, prepare for the possibility that we might have to physically intervene to prevent this war."
He paused, looking at the flickering headlines one more time. "These futures aren't inevitable. They're warnings. Every choice we make from this point forward determines which one becomes real. So let's make sure we choose wisely."
On the Way Back to Gotham
The Batwing cut through the afternoon sky, its sleek silhouette casting a dark shadow over the clouds below. Inside the cockpit, Bruce held the controls steady while Barbara sat behind him, her gaze lost somewhere in the clouds drifting past the canopy.
The silence between them grew heavier with each passing mile.
Finally, Bruce broke it. "You're quiet."
Barbara didn't turn to face him. Her reflection ghosted across the transparent surface as she spoke. "I know I shouldn't be worried—not with Orach making a move. But I can't help it." Her voice softened. "Diana and Rachel are incredibly powerful. If whatever they're facing is serious enough that Orach felt he had to intervene personally... what does that say about the threat level?"
Bruce's expression remained neutral, though his grip on the controls tightened slightly. Part of him was worried about Diana—and the Titans as well. After a moment, he replied, "It says they're facing something beyond us. Even if we were by their side, we'd only get in the way." He paused. "That's exactly why we need to focus on what we can handle—the immediate crisis threatening our world. Diana and the Titans aren't weak. They have an offshoot of Mother Empress as support, and now Orach is likely with them. They'll be fine. And we have our own responsibilities here."
"I know that," Barbara said with a sigh, finally turning to look at him. "You're right. I just..." She trailed off. "I hope they're okay. It doesn't change the worry."
"You wouldn't be you if it did," Bruce said, a slight smile tugging at his lips.
"Oh... teasing, are we, Mr. Wayne?" Barbara smirked, leaning forward. Her hands reached out from behind him, crossing over his shoulders as her arms encircled his neck. "Are you sure we have time to flirt right now?" she whispered in his ear.
"With everything going on, I'll take every chance we get," Bruce said, grasping her hands with one of his own.
They shared a quiet moment together. Then Bruce spoke up. "On a serious note—I know what you did back there, with John's proposal."
"Tch. You just had to ruin the mood, didn't you?" Barbara sighed, though her expression shifted to match his seriousness. "Well, I couldn't have my man going all brooding on me, spending more time hunched over those dangerous files on his computer—the ones I keep telling him to delete." She kept her tone light, but there was an edge beneath it.
"But today proved me right to have them," Bruce muttered, his tone solemn.
"Bruce, those files aren't just contingencies." Barbara's voice firmed. "They're a line in the sand you'll be crossing the moment you choose to enact any of those plans." She paused. "Besides, you don't need them. With me by your side, you won't."
"I hope I never have to use them," Bruce said quietly.
"Maybe you won't," Barbara said softly, her arms still around him. "But if that day ever comes, promise me something—promise you'll talk to me first. Before you make that call alone."
Bruce was silent for a moment, then nodded. "I promise."
"Mm" Barbara let out a soft hum of acknowledgment, her arms tightening slightly around him.
The Batwing soon began its descent toward Gotham, the city's skyline emerging through the clouds. It passed through a hidden entrance behind a waterfall, entering the Batcave.