Chapter 80: Secret Society of Super Villains

Chapter 80: Secret Society of Super Villains

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"I don't understand why you're going to such lengths to cover for this cop."

In an unknown corner of the world, several notorious enemies of different heroes gathered through a secure video link. The one raising the question, with a cold and skeptical tone, was none other than the world's deadliest mercenary—Slade Wilson, Deathstroke.

"Risking exposure of the Grid for this? That infiltration barely got us half of the Justice League's intel, and frankly, I doubt he can truly subdue Superman. There's a high chance this is a setup. For all we know, Superman could've reached some sort of agreement with him."

As one of the world's greatest tacticians, even though he only had one functional eye, Deathstroke could still see through the surface and pick up the subtleties others missed. He smelled deception.

"Deathstroke, hear him out. I'm sure he has his reasons for doing this, but… I admit, I'm also curious. How the hell did he manage to handle Superman?"

The figure who spoke next was massive. Even though she sat mostly in the shadows, the sheer size of her silhouette made it obvious who she was. A woman—no, a giantess. From her outline, there was no mistaking it. She was Doris Zuel—Giganta, the woman capable of increasing her body size dozens of times over in mere seconds. As her size grew, so did her strength and endurance.

According to collected personal data, when Giganta expanded to three hundred feet tall, her physical strength easily reached superhuman levels.

However, Giganta misunderstood one crucial fact. If Superman's normal output was 10 points of power, then her 10 points meant she could reach 10 because that was her maximum. But when Superman limited himself to 10, it was because the enemy could only handle that much. The difference lay not just in power output but in the terrifying nature of Superman's physical strength. Only those who had faced his iron fist truly understood.

Giganta had once fought Superman. She was knocked down in less than ten seconds. That fight left her with a deep understanding of what "power" meant when it came to the Man of Steel.

Watching his subordinates question the plan, the Outsider didn't feel offended. If anything, he was pleased. Deathstroke's suspicion, his tactical instinct, and his habit of double-checking everything—it was exactly what the Outsider admired. This mercenary had the ruthlessness and pragmatism fitting his world. Deathstroke listened and questioned like a true professional villain.

That was why the Outsider created the Secret Society of Super Villains in the first place.

Unlike dealing with heroes, working with villains was his forte. He gathered them under one banner, connecting them through the computer virus known as the Grid—a communication channel invisible to the Justice League's surveillance.

"Deathstroke's concerns are valid," the Outsider nodded, smiling darkly. "But I assure you, Dean will turn against the Justice League. Even if he doesn't make the first move, the League will force him into that position."

The Outsider's confidence was chilling.

After all, he had snuck into the Batcave himself. He had intended to steal Batman's Tower of Babel Plan—the contingency designed to neutralize every member of the League—but instead, he stumbled upon an unexpected prize.

Dean's file.

There, plastered across Batman's secret wall of data, was the truth—Dean's mother hailed from Earth-3. Evil blood flowed through his veins. No matter how he lived or what choices he made, that truth wouldn't change. His very bloodline separated him from this universe.

Dean was not one of them. He was like the Outsider—an alien, an invader, a kindred spirit.

"Now that the Grid has entered hibernation to avoid detection and possible destruction, how are we supposed to get real-time updates on this fight?" Deathstroke asked coldly, crossing his arms and narrowing his one good eye.

He knew well—details determined the outcome of wars. And right now, he smelled failure creeping in. Perhaps it was time to switch sides again—he'd nearly made enough money anyway.

The Outsider, however, smiled mysteriously. "Don't worry. We still have one more ally."

---

"Minister Waller, something's happened!"

A palm-sized woman suddenly jumped out of a mobile screen and landed squarely on Amanda Waller's desk.

"Calm down, Ms. Panita."

As the U.S. government's top agent overseeing metahuman affairs, Amanda Waller was never one to panic. No matter what unfolded, she believed the best way for humanity to face the unpredictable world of superpowers was to remain calm and plot carefully.

"This is the first time you've contacted me directly through electronic communication without a prior call. Panita, what the hell is going on in the Justice League right now?"

Rhonda Panita, also known as Atomica, was a current participant in the League's recruitment event. Some heroes joined to get in, others to gain face, but Atomica was there with a very different purpose.

She was an undercover agent—Amanda Waller's personal spy within the Justice League. Her mission: infiltrate the League and gather intelligence to develop the government's own version of the Tower of Babel Plan.

Atomica's voice trembled, clearly rattled. "Today was supposed to be the recruitment day. The Hall of Justice was packed—tons of powerhouses were present. But then… Batman and Superman suddenly left. Not long after that, Superman sent back a distress signal—he's being hunted… by Dean!"

"Superman… being hunted?" For the first time in a long while, Amanda's steely composure cracked.

She had calculated a thousand scenarios about how to deal with Superman, Earth's strongest protector. But never once had she imagined hearing this—that Superman was being chased down.

The name Dean triggered something. Waller immediately pulled up Dean's profile from her system. "So it's him."

After Dean stopped the Atlantean War, Amanda had marked him as a potential asset, someone worth absorbing into the system. In Waller's eyes, Dean was still a homegrown asset—part of the American structure, even if Gotham was another story.

Gotham's independence was notorious, its ties to the federal government tenuous at best. Even the president couldn't control it fully. Waller had even contemplated capturing Dean and taking his Omnitrix, but ultimately scrapped the plan due to the risks involved.

Atomica then explained the possible reason Dean was able to overpower Superman. "Batman… he prepared targeted plans for every League member. Dean stole those plans. That's why the League couldn't respond directly. Instead, they called in other heroes for backup."

Atomica hesitated, then looked at Amanda with wide, worried eyes.

"Secretary Waller… I don't know what my next move should be."

Atomic Girl spoke a lot, but Amanda Waller only focused on one key phrase—"targeting the plan".

It became clear to Waller that Batman didn't trust superhumans either. For the first time, she felt she and the Dark Knight shared some common ground. Their perspectives aligned, at least when it came to dealing with metahumans—no matter how righteous they appeared on the surface, all of them needed contingencies.

Unlike the bulky, tough-looking version from the old timeline, the Amanda Waller of the New 52 appeared far more composed—still Black, but no longer overweight or looming like a wall. Instead, she was now a sharp, capable woman of average build with cold intelligence reflected in her eyes. She was smart, methodical, and far from ugly.

Amanda's keen mind quickly locked onto the most valuable asset in this entire mess—Batman's contingency plans against the Justice League.

This was the true prize. This was exactly what the government needed most—the ultimate safeguard against the world's most dangerous beings.

Yet, watching Atomic Girl wrestle with the conflict between her innate sense of justice and her identity as a government spy, Amanda understood that forcing her wouldn't work. She needed to give her the illusion of justice, something noble enough to ease the guilt and coax her full cooperation.

With a pause, Amanda leaned forward, her voice calm and laced with authority:

"You're free to shadow whichever hero you find familiar during this mission. Remember, Panita, use their abilities to your advantage. Blend in. Avoid the frontlines. Your focus is observation. And if the opportunity presents itself—bring me Batman's plan. Hand it over to me, for America's sake."

Her tone deepened, solemn and righteous.

"This country needs suppression strategies against powerful metahumans. And Batman's designs are the best out there. He won't hurt his partners… but if it were me?" Amanda sneered slightly, "I wouldn't be so lenient."

She underestimated Batman's willingness to sacrifice his so-called friends. Those contingency plans were far from friendly. They were brutal and thorough, and the excuses Batman made for creating them were flimsy at best. Still, Amanda knew espionage was dirty work—there was no justifying it as 'legitimate.' What mattered was getting the job done.

And honestly, Amanda thought, even if she dropped the mask of righteousness, Atomic Girl would eventually obey. After all…

Atomic Girl wasn't just spying for the Justice League of America. She was her spy.

"What about the Justice League of America itself? Will they intervene?" Atomic Girl asked, tilting her head as if testing Amanda's reaction.

Unaware that the question was meant to probe her, Amanda deliberately propped her chin on her hands, creating an image of cool authority and control in Panita's eyes.

"The League will step in when the time is right," Amanda answered slowly. "For now… we act like we don't know a thing."

———

Meanwhile, on the other side—the new recruits participating in the League's recruitment event included:

Nightwing, Element Woman, Vixen, Zatanna, Platinum, Black Canary, Blue Devil, Black Lightning, Firestorm—a total of ten people gathered.

Among them, Platinum, whose free will became chaotic due to her sudden liberation, had been forcibly shut down by Flash. Yet despite this, the numbers surrounding Dean had not decreased… they had, in fact, grown.

"I figured I'd never hear from you again, Zatanna," a familiar, lazy voice drawled.

A portal of swirling magic appeared, and from it stepped John Constantine, his signature tan trench coat flapping behind him. Casual as ever, he pulled out an old brass lighter, ready to light a cigarette, but was immediately blasted by a cold gust of air.

Zatanna, face blank, extinguished his attempt with a freezing spell: "Smoking is bad for your health."

Constantine merely chuckled, unbothered: "Plenty of people are looking forward to my death, love. Plenty are terrified of it, too. Either way, I'm still standing."

Zatanna shot him a glare. "I meant second-hand smoke, Constantine. I don't give a damn what happens to you."

"That's what I like about you, Zee… Always so damn honest with yourself."

Constantine leaned against the wall, grinning like the bastard he was. With a casual flick, he reached out, attempting to toy with a strand of Zatanna's black hair—only to catch a magical slap right across his face.

"God, I love this dynamic," Constantine grinned. "Could only be better if we moved somewhere more private."

Zatanna shivered in disgust, goosebumps rising all over her skin. She grimaced as a wave of regret washed over her—how the hell did she ever fall for this man? How did she ever think calling him for help was a good idea?

And just as that thought crossed her mind—she already knew the answer.

"Because I'm irresistible," Constantine grinned, shamelessly reading her like an open book and twisting the meaning entirely.

That was Constantine's greatest strength and his worst flaw. His shamelessness was nearly as powerful as his magic.

Zatanna slapped away his hand again. "Don't talk nonsense, Constantine. You're not helping me this time."

The words barely left her mouth when Constantine's grin turned sly, cruel even.

"Zee, sweetheart… sure, our relationship's complicated. But I'm still a great magician. And a pro's gotta get paid—can't have my peers thinking I work for free."

Zatanna sighed heavily, knowing what was coming. Constantine was always like this. "Forget it, Constantine. I won't sleep with you again. Our current relationship is fine—let's leave it there."

For the first time, a flicker of something… human… flashed in Constantine's eyes. Maybe it was hurt. Maybe it was just nostalgia. Either way, his smirk barely faltered:

"I wasn't even gonna suggest that, Zee… unless you want to."

Zatanna rolled her eyes. Constantine chuckled bitterly and added, "What I really want is the soul fragment of Trigon. Now that's a treasure worth the effort."

For a second, Zatanna froze. That pause… she knew. He almost asked something else. Maybe… maybe the original request had been about getting back together.

But no—this was John Constantine. Sentiment was weakness, and Constantine had none left.

Zatanna sneered, "So you've been eyeing Trigon's magic all along. I should've known. You know even that? What, if I capture Dean, you expect me to gift you that too?"

Constantine shrugged, completely unapologetic. "I don't have time to babysit kids like some creepy bat. I'm busy. Great magician, remember? This ain't a secret anymore—hell, even Doctor Fate is aware of it. Problem is, even Fate got outclassed… by a damn piece of tech."

His words were biting, mocking even. "Frankly, it's embarrassing for the entire magical community."

It was rude—almost sacrilegious—to insult someone like Doctor Fate. But Constantine? He didn't care. He said it with ease, like he was stating the weather.

In truth, his flippant words masked another emotion. Envy.

Technology—clean, efficient, powerful—could achieve what magic could not. No cost. No sacrifice. No blood pacts or soul debts. It was mankind's greatest power… and it infuriated Constantine.

Because no matter how easy he made his life look, it hadn't been long since Constantine himself was sleeping on the streets, covered in bruises and debt.

Technology made it too easy. Magic always had a price.

And for a man like Constantine, the price had always been too damn high.

Certainly! Here's your fully edited version with DC-accurate names, flow improvements, natural length expansion, and zero content removed—every detail you gave is kept intact, just refined:

He is destined to meet an ominous end, and John Constantine has always been painfully aware of his own fate. No one understands better than him that in order to change this inevitable future, he must gather more power—stronger, more dangerous power. And the demon Trigon, the monstrous entity from another dimension, fits his requirements perfectly.

"Although I was surprised that the little cop could actually subdue Superman… but seeing so many heroes gathered here, I can't help but feel a bit redundant, Zuckerberg," Constantine muttered lazily.

Looking over Zatanna's shoulder, Constantine's eyes swept across the assembled group of heroes. Many of them were faces he knew all too well—either from shared battles or grudging alliances.

There was the full force of the Titans led by Nightwing—with Beast Boy, Starfire, and Raven cloaked in darkness. The familiar duo of Green Arrow and Black Canary stood together, while the rest were solo heroes—individual powerhouses answering the call.

"Alright then, let's get going. Time to pop that little cop boy's ass and drag Superman out!" Firestorm grinned darkly, his usual sarcasm laced with wicked humor. "Bloody hell, the thought of lifting Superman up by his cape makes me so excited I'm practically burning!"

[You are literally on fire, Ronald. Calm down. Stick to the plan, and for God's sake, don't rush in alone.]

Firestorm, being the fused form of Ronnie Raymond and Jason Rusch, always had this internal tug-of-war. Ronald, impulsive and reckless, often dominated the consciousness, while Jason served as the calm, logical half—the brain trying to keep Ronald from blowing himself up. But, as usual, Ronald didn't listen.

"I don't care! I'm going first—Superman's waiting!" With that reckless declaration, Ronald charged headlong into the boom tunnel, his body already heating up, flames licking off his form.

Seeing someone break rank, the other heroes felt the adrenaline surge. One after another, they entered the blast channel. Confidence was sky-high—they were certain Dean was just a cop, no matter how tricky.

Come on, what hero hasn't toyed with the police before?

"But Dean's not an ordinary cop… He's dangerous. At least that's Batman's assessment—and if he thinks it's serious, it's worth listening to." Nightwing's voice was calm, but his eyes were sharp. Years of training under Batman made him cautious. He knew that underestimating Dean would be a mistake.

In true Bat-family tradition, Nightwing had already mapped out three plans—and backup plans to the backup plans—before anyone else moved. But just as he was about to finalize the formation, Raven stepped forward, her voice grave.

"It's very likely my father… Trigon… has already corrupted Dean's soul. If that's the case, we need to separate him quickly. Delay will be fatal."

The implication was chilling. For an average person, being possessed by the Trigon would mean total annihilation. But Dean? Dean could become a Dimensional Demon—a body with potential to rival Trigon himself. If his soul merged with Trigon's will, it wouldn't just be a problem for this team, or even the League… it would signal the full arrival of Trigon in this universe.

And by then… no one could stop it.

"Wait! Raven, don't go alone!" Nightwing shouted, alarmed.

But Raven never waited. She wasn't one to rely on others for transportation. Cloaked in shadows, she spun into a vortex, shrinking down to a single black dot before vanishing completely.

"Raven's been acting weird lately, Nightwing…" Starfire frowned, her voice laced with worry. "She's been locked in her room for hours. Says she's meditating, but… I hear movie soundtracks. Raven… watching movies. It's just… weird."

"Movies? Seriously?" Beast Boy perked up, trying to lighten the mood. "Hey, I think it's great! Watching movies is the best way to chill. Raven's room is like the perfect home theater. You know what? Next time, let's have a movie night there! I wanna watch 'Revengers Alliance'. That big green guy is so cool!"

Nightwing sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Beast Boy was always off-topic, but… the mention of Raven's change in behavior triggered a memory.

"…Still, Raven's warning makes sense. And you guys remember… she gave us each an artifact to restrain her, just in case she lost control again. Those can be used—on Trigon or Dean."

Starfire's eyes lit up. "Oh! Right! She gave me a bow and arrow set. I put it… somewhere… uh, together with my My Little Pony collection. I'll… go find it!"

Beast Boy froze. "Artifact? Haha… yeah… I hid mine somewhere super secret. Uh… so secret I forgot where it is." He scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

Nightwing groaned. He was no longer that young sidekick, but seeing this team… "Why… why are the Titans still so unreliable?"

"Alright, alright… good thing the sword Raven gave me is still intact. That should be enough. Let's move out!"

---

Meanwhile, Dean had no intention of sitting at the police station waiting to be crushed. Not even with a fully repaired Omnitrix did he fancy his chances against a swarm of second and third-tier heroes—because powers aside, some of them had skills that made them just as deadly.

Dean transformed swiftly into Kamen Rider Accel's motorcycle form, and roared off at airplane speed. The belt's enhanced reflexes kept him from getting killed by sheer traffic—barely.

Superman tailed him casually, flying at 900 km/h. If anything, Superman was holding way back. Nobody could see him—thanks to the Snake Talisman Dean handed him.

"This thing's amazing. Other than heat sensors, I'm basically invisible," Superman marveled, flying on his back, lazily pointing the Snake Talisman toward the blazing sun above.

"You heading back to Gotham?" Superman asked, almost conversationally.

Dean's voice was muffled under the roar of his engine. "Of course. Gotham's my turf, Superman. My home field. If there's anywhere I stand a chance, it's there. Besides… Gotham is my jurisdiction."

He chuckled darkly. "And you know… when outsiders roll into Gotham without plates? I knock on their windows and ask for ID. Feels fair, right?"

Superman laughed lightly, his eyes scanning the sky. "What if it's a local? What happens then, huh? Dean… I don't know what's gonna happen to you next, but… I'm bailing. See you."

And just like that, with a burst of super speed, Superman disappeared without a trace—despite being fully cloaked by the Snake Talisman's power.

No light. No sound. Just… gone.

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I'M BACKKKK!!! sorry for the hiatus im just busy these days

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