The tension in the shattered bedchamber was a physical entity, thick enough to taste—a bitter cocktail of rage, betrayal, and incalculable power held in a trembling check. Diana, disarmed and defeated, stood facing her son, her chest heaving not from exertion but from the sheer, soul-rending grief of what he had become. Jason held the Lasso of Truth coiled in his fist, his own body thrumming with the adrenaline of a fight where he'd been forced to treat his own mother like a porcelain doll he might accidentally shatter.
"You may conquer with your body, but you will never rule a single heart," Diana whispered, the words landing with more impact than any punch.
Jason's jaw tightened, the seed of doubt she'd planted beginning to unfurl a cold, tendril root in his gut. He opened his mouth, a retort poised on his lips, a defense built from arrogance and lust, when a sharp, insistent BEEP-BEEP-BEEP cut through the heavy silence.
Diana flinched, her hand flying to her waist. A sleek, matte-black communicator was flashing with a crimson priority signal. She tapped it, her voice raw. "Bruce. This is not a good time."
Bruce Wayne's voice, gravelly and stripped of all superfluity, emanated from the device. "It's urgent. Come to Gotham. I need you here immediately." A pause, then, his tone deepening with an uncharacteristic weight. "And Diana… bring Jason."
The command hung in the air. Jason's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. "No," he stated flatly, the word a dismissal. "I'm busy."
Hippolyta, who had been watching the horrific family drama unfold from the edge of the bed, finally found her voice. Wrapping a silk sheet around herself, she stepped forward, her regal authority returning despite her state of undress. "Jason," she said, her tone brooking no argument. "You will go. Your mother has been summoned. The world does not stop for your… indulgences. You are a prince of Themyscira and a son of Krypton. You have duties that transcend your personal desires. You will obey."
The phrase 'obey your mother' was a deliberate, pointed barb. Jason's eyes flashed with anger, a hot retort burning his tongue. He wanted to scream, to unleash his heat vision into the sky, to show them all that he answered to no one. But the look in Hippolyta's eyes wasn't one of fear or submission; it was one of expectation. The expectation of a queen from her king. She had submitted to his dominance in the carnal sense, but she was now demanding he live up to the other aspects of that role. The contradiction was maddening.
With a low growl that vibrated in his chest, he relented. "Fine."
The flight to Gotham was conducted in a silence so profound it felt violent. Diana flew ahead, a streak of red and blue against the gloomy sky, her posture rigid. Jason followed, his own flight less graceful, a turbulent wake of pissed-off energy rippling behind him. He didn't look at her. He focused on the sprawling, cancerous blot of Gotham City as it grew on the horizon, its gothic spires clawing at a perpetually smoggy sky. It was a fitting venue for his foul mood.
They touched down on the roof of the GCPD, where a familiar group was already assembled, silhouetted against the blinking searchlights. Batman, a creature of shadow and grim purpose. The Flash, vibrating with barely-contained kinetic energy. Cyborg, half-man, half-machine, his single red eye glowing. And Arthur Curry, the King of Atlantis, leaning on his five-pronged trident, smelling of salt and sovereign impatience.
"Diana," Batman greeted with a curt nod. His cowled gaze then shifted to Jason. "Jason."
Flash zipped forward, a blur of red and lightning. "Hey, kiddo! Long time no—whoa." He skidded to a halt, sensing the glacial atmosphere. "Tough day at the office?"
Cyborg gave a slow, mechanical once-over. "Vitals indicate elevated stress levels and aggression. You okay, Jason?"
Arthur just grunted. "The boy looks like he chewed on a sea urchin."
Jason stood there, hands shoved into his pockets, his expression a mask of sullen contempt. He said nothing, ignoring them all, his gaze fixed on a distant, flickering neon sign.
He tensed under her grip. Every fibre of his being rebelled. These were his father's friends, relics of a legacy he was actively pissing on. But the memory of Hippolyta's command—obey your mother—echoed, warring with his own defiance. With a sigh that was more a hiss of exasperation, he jerked his head in a minimal, dismissive nod.
The grin faltered. Barry's hand slowly dropped.
"Jason." Diana's voice was quiet but carried an edge sharp enough to cut. "Greet them properly."
His eyes flashed red for just a second. The air around him heated.
"Jason." Harder this time.
"...Hey." The word came out like gravel. He gave a slight nod to the group, not meeting anyone's eyes.
Arthur raised an eyebrow. Victor's human eye narrowed slightly. Barry looked between mother and son, confusion written across his face.
Bruce, however, didn't react at all. His expression remained neutral, tactical. "Thank you for coming on short notice."
"You said it was urgent, Bruce." Diana moved forward, her red boots clicking against stone. "What's happened?"
"Thirty minutes ago, Luthor's private jet landed at Gotham International." Bruce tapped a key, and the main screen shifted to show satellite footage. A sleek black aircraft, unmarked but clearly expensive. "He's been off the grid for three weeks. No public appearances, no board meetings, nothing. Then suddenly he shows up here."
"Gotham's not exactly Lex's scene," Arthur said, his rough voice echoing. "He likes his penthouses and champagne. This city's too dirty for him."
"Exactly." Bruce pulled up another image—security footage from what looked like an industrial area. Grainy, shot from a distance, but clear enough. Lex Luthor, purple suit immaculate even in the Gotham filth, walking into a warehouse. "Twenty minutes after landing, he went straight to the Bowery. To meet with Bane."
The temperature in the cave seemed to drop.
"Bane." Diana's voice was ice. "You're certain?"
"Victor confirmed it." Bruce gestured to Cyborg, who nodded.
"Facial recognition, thermal imaging, the works," Victor said, his synthesized voice carrying layers of digital analysis. "It's definitely him. Bane's been in Gotham for a week, staying low. We thought he was just running his usual Venom operation, but this changes things."
Barry whistled low. "Luthor and Bane. That's like... that's like peanut butter and murder."
"Bad combination," Arthur agreed. "Lex brings the brains and money, Bane brings the muscle and brutality. What are they planning?"
Bruce's jaw tightened. "That's what we need to find out. Luthor doesn't make moves without reason, and he certainly doesn't partner with street-level operatives unless they serve a specific purpose."
Jason finally spoke up, his voice dripping with disdain. "So go bust in there and ask them. Why drag us into this?"
All eyes turned to him.
"Because," Bruce said evenly, "Luthor's obsession with your family makes you relevant. Whatever he's planning, it likely involves Superman. Or Wonder Woman. Or both."
"My father can handle Lex," Jason shot back. "He's done it a hundred times."
"Your father is off-world," Bruce replied.
Jason's expression darkened further.
Diana stepped forward. "Bruce, what exactly did your surveillance pick up? You wouldn't have called us here just for a meeting between Luthor and Bane."
Bruce hesitated. Just for a fraction of a second, but everyone in that cave noticed.
"Show them," Victor said quietly.
The screen changed again. Audio recording, waveforms pulsing as the sound played. The quality was poor—clearly recorded from a distance through multiple layers of interference.
Lex's voice came through, smooth and measured: "...the Amazon... more resilient than anticipated... required adjustments..."
Static.
Bane's deep, accented rumble: "...the son... hijo de Superman... dangerous... unpredictable..."
More static.
Lex again: "...precisely why we need... contingency... the mother... leverage..."
The recording ended.
Silence fell over the cave like a shroud.
Diana's hands slowly curled into fists. "He mentioned me."
"And me," Jason said, his voice low and dangerous. Heat shimmered around his shoulders.
"The recording's fragmented," Victor explained, pulling up waveform analysis. "Heavy interference, probably magical or exotic tech-based. I've been trying to clean it up, but this is all we have so far. They're talking about you both, that's clear. But the context..." He shook his head. "We don't know what he's planning."
"Leverage," Arthur repeated, standing up from his crate. "He said 'the mother' as leverage. That's pretty damn clear to me."
Barry's expression had lost all its usual humour. "He's going to try to grab Diana. Use her to control Jason. Or use Jason to control her. Or both." His words came faster, anxiety speeding his speech. "It's a family thing, a hostage situation, classic villain playbook—"
"Barry," Bruce cut him off. "We know."
"But it's worse than that," Victor continued. "Bane doesn't just provide muscle. He's tactical. Strategic. If Luthor brought him in, it means he needs someone who can go toe-to-toe with heavy hitters physically while Lex handles the technical aspects."
"Venom-enhanced strength puts him in a weight class with Arthur and Diana," Bruce added. "And his intelligence makes him unpredictable. He nearly broke Batman. He can break others."
Jason laughed. It was an ugly sound, sharp and bitter. "Let him try. Let them both try."
"Jason." Diana's voice was sharp.
"What?" He whirled on her. "You worried about me? Didn't seem that way an hour ago when you were trying to beat sense into me."
"That's enough," Diana said, her tone brooking no argument.
"No, it's not enough!" His voice rose, echoing through the cave. "I'm tired of being called here like a dog, tired of being told what to do, tired of—"
"Of what?" Arthur interrupted, his voice carrying that particular tone of a man who'd dealt with plenty of angry young warriors. "Of having people who give a damn whether you live or die?"
Jason's mouth snapped shut.
Arthur pushed off the crate, walking closer. "Look, kid. I get it. You've got the weight of two legacies on your shoulders. Son of the most powerful man on Earth and the greatest warrior princess ever born. That's a hell of a thing to carry. But right now? Right now there's a genius madman and a venom-pumped monster plotting something involving you and your mother, and you're too busy being pissed off to focus."
"Arthur's right," Barry added, softer. "We're not here to judge you, man. We're here because family protects family. And whether you like it or not, you're League family."
Jason's fists unclenched slightly. His jaw worked, but no words came out.
Diana looked at her son, her expression softening just a fraction. "Jason. I know you're angry. At me. At yourself. At the world. But these people are our allies. Our friends. They've stood beside your father and me through wars, invasions, apocalypses. They deserve your respect, if not your warmth."
He looked at her. Really looked at her. Saw the worry behind the warrior mask. The fear she wouldn't voice. His grandmother's words echoed in his mind: Obey your mother.
"...I'm sorry," he finally said, the words coming hard. He looked at each of them. "Barry. Arthur. Victor. Bruce." A pause. "I'm... dealing with some stuff. But that's not your problem. You called us here to help. So tell us what you need."
Bruce's expression didn't change, but something in his eyes acknowledged the effort that took. "We need to hit them before they're ready. Before whatever plan Luthor's concocted goes into motion."
"A strike team," Diana said. "Fast and hard."
"Exactly." Bruce pulled up a tactical map—the warehouse district in the Bowery, marked with red indicators. "The building they're in is reinforced. Victor's scans show lead-lined walls, electromagnetic shielding, and what appears to be a modified Kryptonite radiation signature on the sublevels."
Jason frowned, "Kryptonite." He knew it wouldn't have much effect on him like it did on his father, but he was unsure about it.
"Likely a trap," Bruce confirmed. "Luthor knows you might come. He's prepared. That's why we need to be smarter."
"Two-pronged approach," Victor suggested. "One team goes in the front, draws attention. Second team infiltrates from below or above, catches them off guard."
"Barry's our fastest," Arthur said. "He should be on the assault team, hit them before they can react."
"I can phase through the walls," Barry offered. "Get the layout, report back before they even know I'm there."
"Too risky," Bruce said. "If they have speedster countermeasures—and Luthor would—you could phase into a trap."
"Then what?" Jason asked, forcing himself to focus, to think tactically like his mother had trained him. "We can't just rush in. That's what he wants."
Diana nodded approvingly. "Agreed. Luthor's greatest weapon is his mind. He'll have anticipated direct assault."
"So we don't give him what he expects," Bruce said. He tapped the map, highlighting a section. "There's a sewer access point three hundred meters from the warehouse. Connects to Gotham's old underground transit system. Victor can guide a small team through it while the rest of us provide a visible presence outside."
"Draw them out," Arthur said with a grin. "Make it look like we're about to knock on the front door."
"While the real strike team hits them from inside," Victor finished. "Cut off their escape, secure the location, and grab Luthor before he can execute whatever plan he's got cooking."
"Who's on the infiltration team?" Diana asked.
Bruce looked at her. Then at Jason. "You two."
"What?" Jason and Diana spoke simultaneously.
"You're the targets of this plot," Bruce explained. "Luthor expects you to come charging in angry, emotional, easy to manipulate. Instead, you'll be surgical. Precise. Together."
The word hung in the air between mother and son.
Diana's expression was unreadable. "Bruce, given our... current situation, perhaps—"
"Perhaps nothing," Bruce interrupted, his tone final. "You're one of the finest warriors I've ever known, Diana. And Jason, whether you want to admit it or not, has inherited abilities that make him uniquely suited for this. Heat vision to cut through barriers, super-strength to handle Bane if needed, and flight for rapid extraction. Plus," he looked directly at Jason, "you want answers about what Luthor's planning. This is how you get them."
Jason met his gaze. Bruce was right. He hated it, but Bruce was right.
"Fine," Jason said. "We'll do it. Together." He didn't look at his mother when he said it.
Diana closed her eyes briefly, then opened them with renewed purpose. "Very well. What's the timeline?"
"We move in one hour," Bruce said. "Luthor and Bane are meeting at midnight—that's when they'll be most concentrated on whatever they're discussing. It's our window."
"One hour," Victor confirmed. "I'll prep the comms, make sure we've got clear channels despite their interference."
"I'll scout the perimeter," Arthur said. "Make sure there aren't any surprises waiting outside."
"And I'll grab some Big Belly Burger," Barry added. At everyone's look, he shrugged. "What? I'm hungry. Stress eating is a thing."
Despite everything, Jason almost smiled. Almost.
Bruce began pulling up detailed schematics. "Diana, Jason, come here. You need to memorize this layout..."
As they gathered around the screen, Jason felt his mother's presence beside him. Solid. Strong. Unshakeable.
They had an hour to prepare. An hour before they'd walk into whatever trap Luthor had prepared.
An hour to figure out how to work together after everything that had happened.
Jason glanced at Diana. She was studying the map, her warrior's mind already calculating approaches, exit points, threat assessments.
He'd been with his grandmother when Bruce called. He'd been angry when his mother found them. He was still angry now.
But Luthor had made this personal. And whatever else Jason was—whatever mistakes he'd made—he was his mother's son.
"I won't let them hurt you," he said quietly, barely audible over Bruce's briefing.
Diana's eyes flickered to him. For just a moment, the warrior mask dropped, and he saw his mother.
"And I won't let them hurt you," she replied just as softly.
Bruce continued talking, the others strategizing, the clock counting down.
But for that brief moment, it was just mother and son, preparing to face the darkness together.
Whatever came next, they'd face it as family.