Aftermath

The GCPD interrogation room was designed to be uncomfortable – hard metal chair, stark fluorescent lighting, a single table bolted to the floor.

The two-way mirror reflected my image back at me: white hair disheveled, red eyes tired but alert, expression carefully neutral.

I'd been here for three hours now, though no formal questioning had begun.

A psychological tactic, no doubt – let the subject sit and stew, anxiety building with each passing minute.

It might have worked on someone else. But I'd spent the time productively, mentally mapping contingency plans and rehearsing responses.

This was merely the first step in what would undoubtedly be a complex legal and political process following the Joker's death.

The door finally opened, and Commissioner Gordon entered, followed by a detective I didn't recognize.

Gordon looked like he'd aged years in a single night – eyes shadowed, face drawn, shoulders bearing an invisible weight.

His daughter had killed Gotham's most notorious criminal. The professional and personal implications were crushing him simultaneously.

"Mr. Morningstar," Gordon began, his voice carefully professional as he took the seat across from me. "Thank you for your patience. I'm sure you understand we have a lot to sort through tonight."

"Of course, Commissioner," I replied, matching his formal tone. "I'm here to help in any way I can."

The detective – a stern-looking woman with close-cropped gray hair – positioned herself in the corner, notepad ready. "I'm Detective Montoya," she introduced herself. "I'll be recording this conversation."

Gordon placed a folder on the table between us. "Let's start from the beginning. In your own words, please tell us what happened at the Monarch Theater tonight."

I took a measured breath, then began the carefully prepared account – truthful in essential details while omitting certain aspects of my abilities and knowledge.

I described the Joker's kidnapping of Mr. Finch and Barbara, Klarion's magical intervention, and my decision to confront the Joker directly at the Monarch Theater.

"The Joker had rigged explosives throughout the building," I explained.

"He was using Barbara as leverage to force me into what he called a 'philosophical test' – an attempt to make me abandon my principles under pressure."

"And what principles were those?" Gordon asked, his expression unreadable.

"My belief that life has intrinsic meaning and value," I replied. "The Joker subscribes to a nihilistic worldview – that existence is fundamentally meaningless and moral principles are merely comforting illusions.

He wanted to prove that anyone would abandon such principles when someone they care about is threatened."

Gordon nodded slightly, making a note. "And the transformations? The officers who arrived first on scene reported that you were in some kind of... altered state when they entered the theater."

"My device," I said, gesturing to the Ultimatrix on my wrist, which had been allowed to remain with me after Batman's intervention. "As you know, I've developed technology that allows for genetic reconfiguration – what I call pattern-based transformation.

I used one of these forms to neutralize the detonator the Joker was threatening to trigger."

"A form we haven't seen before," Gordon observed, his tone carefully neutral.

"Yes," I acknowledged. "I've been developing additional transformations beyond the three that are publicly known.

This particular form has intangibility capabilities that were necessary to disarm the explosives without triggering them."

Gordon's eyes narrowed slightly. "And why keep these capabilities secret?"

"Security concerns," I replied smoothly. "Not all transformations are equally stable or controlled. I've been cautious about revealing capabilities that might be misunderstood or misused."

Gordon exchanged a glance with Montoya before continuing. "Let's move to the moment of the Joker's death.

According to your initial statement, Barbara shot him as he was threatening to detonate explosives. Is that accurate?"

"Yes," I confirmed. "After I disabled the detonator, the Joker became increasingly agitated.

He was ranting about how he would escape Arkham again, how he would continue targeting people I care about until he got the outcome he wanted.

Barbara had managed to free herself during our confrontation and used the concealed weapon she carries – the one you gave her for protection."

Gordon's jaw tightened at the mention of the gun he'd provided his daughter. "And you made no attempt to stop her?" he asked, a hint of personal anguish breaking through his professional demeanor.

I met his gaze directly. "Events happened very quickly, Commissioner. By the time I realized Barbara had drawn her weapon, the shot had already been fired.

The Joker had been threatening both our lives and had made it clear he would continue to do so indefinitely."

Gordon's expression flickered with complicated emotion – the conflict between his role as a father who had armed his daughter for protection and the commissioner who now had to investigate her for using that weapon lethally.

"Where is Barbara being held?" I asked, shifting the focus slightly.

"She's in a separate interview room," Gordon replied after a moment's hesitation. "Batman is with her."

That was both concerning and reassuring.

Batman's presence meant Barbara wasn't being processed through standard channels yet – the Justice League was likely negotiating some form of intervention.

But Batman's rigid moral code regarding killing meant he might not be the most sympathetic presence for Barbara right now.

"Commissioner," I said carefully, "I want to be clear about something. Barbara acted to protect not just me, but countless potential future victims.

The Joker had developed a fixation on me that went beyond his usual criminal behavior – it had become an obsession, almost religious in nature. He would never have stopped."

"That's not for you or Barbara to decide," Gordon replied, though his tone lacked conviction. "We have laws, procedures-"

"That failed repeatedly with the Joker," I finished quietly. "How many times has he escaped Arkham? How many people has he killed after each escape? The system wasn't equipped to handle someone like him."

Gordon's expression hardened. "Be careful, Mr. Morningstar. That line of thinking leads to vigilantism and anarchy."

"With respect, Commissioner, I'm simply stating facts. I'm not advocating for a system outside the law – I'm acknowledging that the existing system had a specific failure point where the Joker was concerned."

Before Gordon could respond, the door opened again. A uniformed officer leaned in, beckoning to the Commissioner. Gordon excused himself, leaving me alone with Detective Montoya.

"You care about her," Montoya observed after a moment of silence. "Barbara."

I met her gaze evenly. "Yes."

"Enough to lie for her?"

"I haven't lied," I replied calmly. "I've given an accurate account of tonight's events."

Montoya's expression suggested she wasn't entirely convinced, but she didn't press the issue. Instead, she asked, "Do you know what happens next?"

"Legally? Barbara will likely face charges – possibly manslaughter rather than murder, given the circumstances. There will be an investigation, a grand jury, perhaps a trial."

"And you think that's just?" she asked, her tone neutral but her eyes searching.

I considered my response carefully. "I think justice is more complex than simply applying the letter of the law.

The Joker killed hundreds, perhaps thousands over his career. He would have killed more.

Barbara prevented those future deaths. Is it just to punish her for that? I don't know. That's a question for society to answer, not just me."

Montoya nodded slightly, seemingly satisfied with my response. The door opened again, and Gordon returned, accompanied by Batman.

The Dark Knight's presence filled the small room, his expression unreadable behind the cowl.

"Mr. Morningstar," Batman began without preamble, "the Justice League is invoking special jurisdiction in this case, given the involvement of magical elements and metahuman factors.

You and Barbara Gordon will be remanded to League custody pending further investigation."

Gordon's expression suggested this arrangement wasn't entirely to his liking, but he had apparently agreed to it.

"Detective Montoya will process the necessary paperwork," he added. "This doesn't mean charges won't be filed, just that the investigation will proceed under League oversight."

I nodded, understanding the implications. This was Batman's way of protecting Barbara – and perhaps me – from the immediate legal consequences while maintaining the appearance of proper procedure.

The League's "special jurisdiction" was a rarely invoked authority, typically reserved for cases involving extraterrestrial or interdimensional threats.

"What about Mr. Finch?" I asked. "Is he safe?"

"Superman and Flash extracted him from the Harlow Street location," Batman confirmed. "He's shaken but unharmed."

Relief washed through me. At least the Joker's innocent victim had been spared. "And Barbara? How is she?"

A flicker of something – perhaps sympathy – crossed Gordon's face. "She's... processing what happened. This isn't easy for her."

"I want to see her," I said, more demand than request.

Batman and Gordon exchanged glances. "That's not advisable at this stage," Batman began.

"She acted to protect me," I interrupted. "She's facing the consequences of that choice alone right now. I need to see her."

Gordon studied me for a long moment, then nodded slightly. "Five minutes. Supervised."

Batman didn't object, which surprised me. Perhaps he recognized that keeping us separated would only complicate an already volatile situation.

They led me through the precinct to another interview room. Barbara sat alone at the table, her posture straight but tension evident in her shoulders. She looked up as the door opened, relief washing over her face when she saw me.

"Samael," she said, half-rising before restraining herself, aware of the watching officers.

"Five minutes," Gordon reminded us, then stepped back, giving us a semblance of privacy though he and Batman remained in the room.

I sat across from Barbara, taking her hands in mine across the table. "Are you alright?" I asked quietly.

"I killed someone," she replied, her voice steady despite the weight of those words. "I can't say I'm alright.

But I don't regret it. He would never have stopped, Samael. You saw what he was like – that wasn't just criminal insanity. It was obsession."

"I know," I assured her. "You don't need to justify your actions to me."

She squeezed my hands, her eyes searching mine. "What happens now?"

"Batman has arranged for League jurisdiction," I explained. "We'll be remanded to their custody while they investigate. It's better than standard criminal processing."

Barbara nodded, processing this information. "Dad must be torn apart by this. His daughter killing someone – even the Joker – with the gun he gave me for protection."

"He's concerned for you," I said. "That's paramount right now, despite the professional complications."

She glanced toward her father, who stood rigidly by the door, trying to maintain professional distance despite the personal anguish evident in his posture. "I never wanted to put him in this position."

"You didn't. The Joker did," I reminded her. "Remember that, Barbara. The Joker created this situation, not you. He forced these choices, these consequences."

She met my gaze again, something resolute forming in her expression. "I meant what I said at the theater. No regrets. He needed to be stopped. The system had failed, over and over. Someone had to end it."

Before I could respond, Batman approached, indicating our time was up. "The League transport is ready," he stated. "We're moving you both to the Watchtower for debriefing."

The Watchtower – the Justice League's orbital headquarters. This was unexpected. League jurisdiction typically meant holding at the Hall of Justice or Mount Justice, not their most secure and restricted facility.

"The Watchtower?" I questioned, not bothering to hide my surprise. "Is that necessary?"

"Yes," Batman replied simply, offering no further explanation.

Barbara and I exchanged glances as we were led from the interview room. Commissioner Gordon stepped forward as we passed, his professional demeanor cracking slightly.

"Barbara," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "I'll be following up. This isn't..." He paused, struggling to find words. "This isn't the end of anything. We'll get through this."

Barbara's composure wavered for the first time. "Dad, I'm sorry. Not for what I did, but for putting you in this position."

Gordon reached out, briefly squeezing her shoulder – the most contact he could allow himself in this professional setting. "We'll talk soon. I promise."

Batman led us through a rear exit, avoiding the press that had already gathered outside the precinct.

A nondescript van waited, which would presumably take us to a zeta tube location for transport to the Watchtower.

As we settled into the van, Barbara leaned close to me. "The Watchtower," she whispered. "That's not standard procedure."

"No," I agreed quietly. "Something else is happening. Something Batman isn't telling us."

The van pulled away from the precinct, carrying us toward whatever awaited at the Justice League's orbital headquarters.

The Joker was dead, but the consequences of that death were just beginning to unfold. Whatever came next, I knew one thing with absolute certainty – I wouldn't let Barbara face it alone.

The Watchtower's observation deck offered a breathtaking view of Earth below – a blue-green jewel suspended in the velvet blackness of space.

Under different circumstances, I might have appreciated the perspective it provided. Today, it only emphasized how far we were from normal proceedings.

Barbara stood beside me at the viewport, both of us having been left alone for the moment. After our arrival, we'd been separated for individual debriefings – mine with Superman and

Wonder Woman, hers with Black Canary and Martian Manhunter. Now we waited while the League deliberated.

"They're trying to decide what to do with us," Barbara observed, her voice low despite the empty deck. "With me, specifically."

"The League doesn't have legal authority to try or sentence you," I reminded her. "Their jurisdiction is limited to investigation and containment of metahuman or magical threats."

"I know," she replied. "But they have influence. Whatever they decide will shape how this plays out in the conventional legal system."

She wasn't wrong. The Justice League's assessment would carry significant weight with prosecutors, judges, and public opinion.

If they determined Barbara had acted out of necessity against a threat they couldn't otherwise contain, it would substantially strengthen her legal defense.

"What did Manhunter want?" I asked, knowing the Martian's telepathic abilities would have been central to his questioning.

Barbara's expression tightened slightly. "He asked to examine my memories of the event. To verify my account."

I tensed. "Did you consent?"

"Yes," she said simply. "I have nothing to hide.

The Joker was threatening to kill us both and made it clear he would continue targeting people you care about indefinitely. I made a choice to end that threat permanently."

I nodded, relieved that her mental examination would support her account.

J'onn J'onzz was known for his ethical approach to telepathy – he would report exactly what he found, without embellishment or judgment.

"And your session?" Barbara asked. "Superman and Wonder Woman aren't exactly standard interrogators."

"They wanted to understand my relationship with the Joker," I explained. "His fixation on me, the nature of his 'philosophical test.'

And they had questions about my transformation – the one they hadn't seen before."

Barbara studied me. "Did you tell them everything? About the... consciousness within that form?"

"No," I admitted. "I explained that the transformation has certain risks, that it's still experimental. They don't need to know about Zs'Skayr specifically."

Before Barbara could respond, the deck's doors slid open. Batman entered, followed by Superman, Wonder Woman, and Martian Manhunter – the League's core leadership.

Their expressions were grave but not hostile, which I took as a positive sign.

"We've reached a preliminary decision," Superman began, his tone formal but not unkind.

"Based on J'onn's examination of Barbara's memories and the corroborating evidence, we believe she acted to prevent imminent harm in a situation where conventional containment had repeatedly failed."

Wonder Woman continued, "The Joker represented a unique threat – one that our standard protocols had proven inadequate to address.

While the League cannot condone taking a life, we recognize that Barbara Gordon acted out of necessity rather than malice or vigilantism."

Batman remained silent, his expression unreadable. This was clearly a concession for him – his rigid moral code against killing made this situation particularly difficult.

But the evidence was too clear to ignore.

"What does this mean practically?" I asked, cutting to the heart of the matter.

"The League will recommend to the Gotham District Attorney that no charges be filed," Superman explained.

"We'll provide a full assessment indicating that the Joker represented an extraordinary threat that could not be contained by conventional means, and that Barbara acted to prevent imminent loss of life."

Barbara's posture relaxed slightly, though her expression remained solemn. "And my father? How does this affect him?"

"Commissioner Gordon will need to recuse himself from the investigation," Batman finally spoke. "But our recommendation should prevent any suggestion of impropriety on his part."

J'onn stepped forward, his red eyes gentle as he addressed Barbara directly.

"I have shared only what was necessary from your memories – the immediate threat,

the Joker's stated intentions to continue targeting Samael and those he cares about, and your actions in response.

Your private thoughts remain your own."

Barbara nodded gratefully. "Thank you."

"There's something else," Batman said, his tone shifting subtly. "Something we need to discuss with both of you." He glanced at his colleagues, who nodded in silent agreement.

"The magical energy Klarion channeled through the Joker – it wasn't random. It was specifically designed to target the Ultimatrix."

I tensed, immediately alert. "What do you mean?"

"Zatara has analyzed the residual energy signatures from the theater," Batman explained, referring to the League's magical expert.

"The pattern suggests Klarion was attempting to access something specific within your transformation device – something he could sense but couldn't directly interact with."

"The shadow lurking in your watch," Barbara quoted the Joker's words softly. "The consciousness that doesn't belong in this reality."

Superman's expression showed concern. "Samael, if there's something about the Ultimatrix we should know – something that might represent a threat – now is the time to share that information."

I considered my options carefully. Complete disclosure would mean revealing the true nature of the Ultimatrix – that it wasn't my invention but a soul-bound device that had manifested from the blueprint absorbed by my soul.

The transformations weren't based on actual alien DNA samples but were created by my soul itself.

Most concerning was Ghostfreak –

not an alien consciousness from another being, but a darker aspect of my own soul given form, with the knowledge and capabilities of the Ectonurite High King as its primary personality.

I had only recently questioned the Ultimatrix about this, learning the disturbing truth that Ghostfreak wasn't a separate entity but essentially a shadow self – a part of me that the Ultimatrix had given form based on the blueprint it contained.

But partial disclosure might be necessary to maintain the League's trust and ensure appropriate precautions against future magical attacks.

"The transformation I used at the theater – what the Joker called 'the ghost' – has certain risks," I began carefully.

"It's a unique form with unusual properties, including intangibility and possession capabilities. The transformation creates what appears to be a separate consciousness.

Normally, it's dormant, but Klarion's magic was specifically designed to weaken the barriers keeping it contained."

Wonder Woman's eyes narrowed. "A consciousness within a transformation? That's not merely technology, Samael. That suggests something more complex."

"The pattern-based genetic manipulation technology I've developed has unexpected properties," I replied, maintaining my cover story while acknowledging the reality they'd witnessed.

"This particular transformation generates what appears to be a secondary consciousness – a side effect I've been working to stabilize, which is why I hadn't used that particular transformation publicly before."

Batman studied me intently. "And this consciousness – what would have happened if it had emerged fully?"

"Nothing good," I admitted. "It's essentially a darker aspect that would attempt to seize control. That's why I've kept that transformation locked down until I can fully understand and control it."

J'onn's expression showed deep concern. "I sensed something during the confrontation – a presence that was not you, yet somehow was still connected to your essence.

It was... powerful. Malevolent. Yet strangely familiar, as if it were a shadow of your own mind."

I nodded, uncomfortable with how close J'onn's perception had come to the truth. "That's... not an inaccurate assessment."

Superman exchanged glances with his colleagues before addressing me again. "Samael, the League needs to understand the full capabilities and potential risks of your technology.

Especially if entities like Klarion can target specific vulnerabilities within it."

"I understand," I replied carefully. "I'll prepare a comprehensive briefing on the Ultimatrix's functions and limitations.

But I want to be clear – the device is secure. What happened at the theater was the result of direct magical interference from a Lord of Chaos, not a design flaw."

Batman's expression suggested he wasn't entirely satisfied with this explanation, but he didn't press further.

"We'll expect that briefing within 48 hours. In the meantime, both of you will remain under League observation."

"For how long?" Barbara asked, a hint of challenge in her voice.

"Until we're certain there are no further magical or psychological aftereffects from your encounter with the Joker and Klarion," Wonder Woman replied.

"This is for your protection as much as ours."

I could tell Barbara wanted to object, but she restrained herself. The League's position was reasonable given the circumstances, and pushing back now would only create unnecessary tension.

"What about my father?" Barbara asked instead. "Can I speak with him?"

"He's been cleared to visit the Watchtower tomorrow," Superman assured her. "We're not restricting your communications, just monitoring for any unusual patterns that might indicate lingering magical influence."

With that, the League members departed, leaving Barbara and me alone once more on the observation deck.

The Earth continued its silent rotation below us, oblivious to the complexities unfolding in orbit above it.

"They don't entirely trust your explanation," Barbara observed once the doors had closed. "Batman especially."

"No," I agreed. "But they don't have enough evidence to justify more invasive questioning, especially after J'onn's confirmation of your account of events."

Barbara turned to face me fully. "Samael, what exactly is the Ultimatrix? And don't give me the pattern-based genetic manipulation cover story. I saw what happened in that theater. That wasn't just technology."

I met her gaze, weighing my options. Barbara had killed to protect me. She deserved some measure of truth, even if I couldn't reveal everything about my origins or knowledge.

"It's more complex than I've publicly acknowledged," I admitted. "But I'll tell you about that later, when we're in a more private setting."

Barbara processed this, her analytical mind understanding. "Fine, but at least tell me something about Ghostfreak. That consciousness J'onn sensed?"

I hesitated, then decided to reveal a portion of the truth. "I was clear about that. It's a manifestation of... darker aspects of myself.

Not a separate entity entirely, but a shadow self given form through the transformation. I only recently learned this when questioning the Ultimatrix about its functions."

"A shadow self," Barbara repeated, understanding dawning in her eyes. "That's why Klarion targeted it specifically. He sensed it was part of you, but separate – a vulnerability he could exploit."

"Yes. Lords of Chaos can perceive things beyond normal reality.

He recognized something in the Ultimatrix that resonated with his magical awareness – the division within my own soul that Ghostfreak represents."

"Is it dangerous?" she asked directly. "This shadow self – could it have taken control if Klarion's magic had succeeded?"

"Potentially," I acknowledged. "It has the knowledge and capabilities of a powerful entity known by Ghostfreak as the Ectonurite High King – Zs'Skayr.

But I maintained control. The shadow remains contained within the transformation matrix."

Barbara studied me for a long moment. "There's still more you're not telling me."

It wasn't a question, and I didn't treat it as one. "Yes."

"Because you don't trust me, or because you're protecting me?"

"Because some knowledge comes with burdens I'm not willing to place on you," I replied honestly. "Especially now, with everything you're already facing."

She seemed to accept this, at least for the moment. "Fair enough. But eventually, Samael, we're going to need complete honesty between us. Especially after what happened tonight."

I nodded, acknowledging the truth in her words. "When this is settled – when you're no longer under League observation and the legal questions have been resolved – we'll talk. Properly."

She stepped closer, taking my hands in hers. "Promise?"

"I promise," I said, meaning it despite the complexities such a conversation would entail.

Barbara leaned against me, her head resting on my shoulder as we both gazed out at the Earth below.

"He can't hurt anyone else," Barbara suddenly said softly, echoing her words from the theater. "Whatever comes next, that fact remains."

I tightened my arm around her shoulders. "Yes. And we'll face the rest together."

As the Earth completed another rotation beneath us, I contemplated the path ahead.

The Joker's death had removed one threat, but Klarion's interest in the Ultimatrix represented a new and potentially more dangerous complication.

The League's increased scrutiny would require careful management of information and appearances.

And Barbara – now irrevocably changed by her choice to kill the Joker – would need support navigating both the legal aftermath and her own emotional processing of that decision.

Complex challenges lay ahead. But in this moment, watching the sunrise creep across the curve of the Earth below, I found myself strangely at peace.

The Joker's obsession had ended. Barbara was safe. And together, we would face whatever came next.

The door to the observation deck slid open, interrupting our moment of quiet reflection. Batman stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable as always.

"Commissioner Gordon has arrived," he announced. "He's waiting to see Barbara."

Barbara straightened, tension returning to her posture. This would be her first conversation with her father since the formal questioning at GCPD headquarters – the first real opportunity to process what had happened without the constraints of official procedure.

"I'll come with you," I offered, but she shook her head.

"I need to do this part alone," she said quietly. "He's my father. This is between us."

I nodded, understanding her need to face this conversation without an audience. "I'll be here when you're done."

Batman led Barbara away, leaving me alone with my thoughts on the observation deck. 

I turned my attention to the Ultimatrix, examining it with new wariness.

The revelation that Ghostfreak was essentially a shadow aspect of my own soul rather than a separate alien consciousness was disturbing.

It meant that the darkness Klarion had tried to awaken wasn't some external threat but something that existed within me – a part of myself I needed to understand and control.

The door slid open again, and Superman entered. His expression was solemn but not unfriendly.

"Samael," he greeted me. "I hope I'm not interrupting."

"Not at all," I replied, turning to face him. "Is there something I can help with?"

Superman moved to stand beside me at the viewport. "I wanted to check on you. Tonight's events were... intense. Even for those of us who've faced the Joker before."

I appreciated the gesture, though I suspected it wasn't purely social. Superman was likely evaluating my mental state, assessing whether I posed any risk after the stress of the confrontation.

"I'm processing," I said honestly. "It's not every day you watch someone kill to protect you."

Superman nodded, his gaze fixed on the Earth below. "Barbara made a choice that will stay with her for the rest of her life.

"The League's position on killing is... complex," Superman said, his voice taking on a more personal tone. "While we publicly maintain a no-killing stance, the reality is more nuanced than most realize." 

He paused, seemingly weighing how much to share. "With beings like me, killing is rarely necessary. There are almost always alternatives when you have the power to move planets."

His gaze drifted to the Earth below, a shadow crossing his features. "But the Joker... I've sometimes wondered if our approach was truly just.

I respected Batman's handling of him because Bruce knows Gotham better than anyone, but there were moments..." He trailed off, then met my eyes with unexpected candor.

"There were moments I considered ending the threat permanently. Times when I questioned whether our principles were serving justice or impeding it."

This glimpse into Superman's private thoughts surprised me. The Man of Steel was often portrayed as the moral center of the Justice League, unwavering in his ideals.

But here was a more complex figure – one who understood the weight of impossible choices.

"And now?" I asked quietly.

"Now I believe Barbara made a choice that many of us silently considered but never executed," he replied. "A choice that will burden her, but may have saved countless lives." He straightened slightly.

"As for you – you maintained control in a situation specifically designed to break it. That hasn't gone unnoticed."

"But questions remain," I concluded.

"Yes," he acknowledged. "The transformation you used – Ghostfreak, as you call it – raised concerns. J'onn sensed something... troubling within it."

I chose my words carefully. "As I explained to the others, that particular transformation has certain risks.

It manifests aspects of myself that are normally suppressed – darker impulses, if you will. I've been working to understand and control those aspects."

Superman studied me, his penetrating gaze seeming to look through me rather than at me. I wondered if he was using his x-ray vision to examine the Ultimatrix more closely.

"We all have darkness within us, Samael," he said finally.

"What matters is how we choose to address it. Do we acknowledge it and work to integrate it constructively, or do we deny it until it finds its own way to emerge?"

The philosophical nature of his question revealed a depth to Superman that popular perception often missed.

This wasn't the simplistic moral paragon of public imagination, but a being who had grappled with profound ethical questions throughout his long career.

"I'm choosing to acknowledge it," I replied. "To understand it rather than pretend it doesn't exist. That's why I've kept that transformation in reserve until I fully comprehend its nature."

Superman nodded, seemingly satisfied with my answer. "That's a wise approach." He paused, then added, "The League has voted to continue your training program, by the way. Once this situation with Barbara is resolved."

This was unexpected good news. I had worried that the events at the theater might lead to restrictions on my activities or even removal from the program altogether.

"Thank you," I said. "I appreciate the League's confidence."

"It's not unanimous confidence," Superman admitted. "There are those who have concerns. But the majority believe you've demonstrated sufficient control and judgment to continue."

Batman, I suspected, was among those with concerns. His rigid moral code and natural suspicion would make him wary of anyone who had demonstrated abilities beyond what they'd initially disclosed.

"I understand," I replied. "And I'll work to address those concerns through my actions."

Superman smiled slightly. "That's the best approach." He glanced toward the door. "I should go. The League is convening to discuss our official statement regarding tonight's events."

After Superman departed, I returned my gaze to the Earth below, contemplating our conversation.

The League's continued support was valuable, though I would need to be more careful about revealing the full extent of my abilities in the future.

The incident with Ghostfreak had already raised questions I wasn't prepared to answer fully.

Time passed as I waited for Barbara to return. I used the solitude to mentally prepare the briefing I would need to provide about the Ultimatrix – enough information to satisfy the League's concerns without revealing its true nature or origin.

When the door finally opened again, it was Barbara who entered. Her eyes were red-rimmed but dry, her posture straight but weary.

The conversation with her father had clearly been emotional but not devastating.

"How did it go?" I asked gently as she joined me at the viewport.

"About as well as could be expected," she replied. "He's torn between his role as my father and his duty as Commissioner.

But underneath it all, he understands why I did what I did." She took a deep breath. "He said he would have done the same, in my position."

That admission from Gordon – a man known for his strict adherence to legal procedure – spoke volumes about the unique threat the Joker had represented.

"What happens next?" I asked.

"The League is issuing a statement declaring the Joker's death a necessary response to an imminent threat that conventional containment had repeatedly failed to address.

Dad will recuse himself from the investigation, and the DA will likely decline to file charges based on the League's assessment." She sighed.

"Professionally, I should be in the clear. Personally... that's going to take longer to process."

I took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You don't have to process it alone."

She smiled faintly, returning the pressure. "I know." After a moment, she added, "Batman says we can return to Earth tomorrow. The League's magical experts have confirmed there's no lingering influence from Klarion's spell."

"Good," I replied. "Though I imagine we'll be under observation for a while yet."

"Probably," she agreed. "But it's better than the alternative."

We stood in companionable silence, watching as the Earth rotated beneath us. Despite the challenges that lay ahead, I felt a sense of cautious optimism.

The Joker was gone. Barbara would likely avoid legal consequences for her actions. The League was maintaining its support for my continued training.

And most importantly, Barbara and I had survived the night with our connection not just intact but strengthened by the shared experience.

"Whatever comes next," I said softly, echoing my earlier words, "You'll always have me at your side."

Barbara leaned against me, her head finding its place on my shoulder. "As you'll have me," 

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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all liked the chapter!

Do tell me how you found the aftermath?

Especially Superman's stance on the matter, since honestly, he isn't like Batman. He can deal killing blows - it just rarely is necessary.

So yeah, do tell me how you found it and I hope to see you all later,

Bye!)