Chapter Text
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The sky above Metropolis cracked open with a sound like thunder gasping for breath. On a rooftop overlooking the city, Batman stood motionless, cape fluttering as energy danced across the skyline. A swirling rift—a tear in space itself—churned violently above the LexCorp building, pulling matter and light into its vortex.
“This isn’t a standard dimensional breach,” he said into the comm. “J’onn, confirm.”
Inside the Watchtower, Martian Manhunter’s voice was strained but focused. “Confirmed. It’s not magic, not alien. It’s unstable quantum architecture—some kind of rip between realities. We're trying to contain it, but… It’s spreading.”
Wonder Woman was already on the ground below, helping evacuate civilians, while Superman hovered near the vortex, attempting to shield the upper atmosphere from a possible collapse. Batman moved to deploy a dampening charge—too late. The vortex pulsed once.
Then again.
Then it *swallowed him whole*.
A sharp tug. Pressure. Silence.
Then—
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**Impact.**
Concrete. Cold. Wet.
Batman groaned low as he rolled onto his feet in a narrow alley bathed in artificial light. Above him, neon signs flickered. The city was familiar in shape but wrong in tone. The noise was off—too polished, like a synthetic hum had replaced the usual chaos of urban life. He scanned his environment. Cameras on every corner. High surveillance. Commercial branding on the sides of police cruisers. A billboard nearby displayed a glowing image of a man in sleek white and silver armor, windswept hair dramatically tousled, suspended mid-air above a city skyline.
"Zephyr – The Winds of Justice! Brought to you by Vought International."
The ad cut to Zephyr standing with children, smiling like a messiah in branded boots, conjuring a playful spiral of air to lift a balloon skyward. Batman’s eyes narrowed. The image froze on the ad’s final frame—a brief flash of corporate logos followed by another: “Project J: A Better Tomorrow Starts Today.”
He rewound it on his lens feed. There—just for a moment. The Vought seal stamped over a security badge labeled "Level Seven – R\&D – Juvenile Assets Division.
That wasn’t just a public campaign, this was a layered broadcast. And 'Project J'? That was a buried message. He tapped his comm.
“Watchtower, come in. This is Batman. Do you read?”
Static.
Again.
Still static.
He crouched and scanned the skyline. The tallest building gleamed like a monument to profit—Vought Tower. Batman opened his portable terminal, running diagnostics. The tech worked, but the networks were heavily encrypted. Different architecture, but he could adapt.
“I’m in a parallel dimension,” he muttered. “Controlled by a megacorporation. Hero culture appears manufactured. Controlled media. Staged narratives.” Above him, the screen shifted again. Zephyr was now being interviewed on a talk show, hair still windblown indoors.
“So tell us, Zephyr—how does it feel to save lives every day?”
Zephyr grinned like he practiced it in the mirror. “It’s about inspiring people. Giving them hope.”
Batman didn’t blink.
"Hope doesn’t need a trademark."
His eyes drifted back to the brief flash of Project J. A child-sized question mark in a world full of masks. Batman stood, cloak drawn around him.
“Time to see what Vought is really building.”
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