Chapter 6: The Waiting Game

Alex sat comfortably in his apartment, lazily stirring a spoon through a fresh bowl of chicken and rice. The aroma filled the small space, and he let out a satisfied sigh.

For the past few days, he had refused to leave. Not because he was afraid. Not because he was hiding.

But because it was funny.

With a smug grin, he glanced toward the front window, where the blinds were firmly shut. Just outside, three very annoyed individuals were standing in the cold, watching the apartment like hawks.

To mess with them even more, he had taped a handwritten sign to the front door:

"I'm not home. Go away."

The three figures outside were nothing short of infamous.

Peacemaker – With his ridiculous dove-emblazoned helmet, arms crossed, clearly losing patience.

Harley Quinn – Spinning her oversized mallet, whistling some off-key tune.

Deathstroke – Standing slightly apart from the other two, silent, calculating, and dangerous.

Now, Peacemaker wasn't exactly known for subtlety, but he'd managed to resist kicking the door down… for now.

Harley, on the other hand, was bouncing on her feet. "I say we bust it down already! C'mon, we got Task Force X clearance!"

Peacemaker sighed. "For the last time, Waller said 'wait for the target to exit.'"

Harley pouted. "Ugh, what's the worst that could happen? He's probably just sittin' in there eatin' chips or somethin'!"

She wasn't wrong.

Meanwhile, Deathstroke stood unmoving, scanning the apartment building with his one good eye. Unlike the other two, he wasn't Task Force X. He had been hired for this. And frankly, if it weren't for the paycheck, he'd have already walked away.

"Priority One target," he muttered. "I don't see what's so special."

Peacemaker smirked. "Maybe because the guy can turn into a goddamn Kryptonian?"

Deathstroke didn't react, but he made a mental note. He'd read the files. The transformation ability was dangerous, sure—but it was the range that concerned him.

Aliens.

Heroes.

Villains.

Monsters.

There wasn't a clear limit.

And if there was one thing Deathstroke hated, it was an unpredictable enemy.

As the sky darkened, Harley's patience had run dry. She adjusted her grip on the mallet, stepping toward the door.

"That's it. I'm knockin' the damn thing down."

Peacemaker sighed, rubbing his temples. "Harley—"

FWIP.

The sound of a door opening echoed above them.

Not the front door.

The roof.

A tiny gray frog hopped onto the edge of the building, staring up at them.

"When the hell are you guys coming?" it asked, voice dripping with annoyance. "It's been days, and I haven't seen or heard the door open once!"

For a moment, there was silence.

Then—

FWIP.

A throwing knife whizzed through the air, aimed directly at the frog—

Only for it to dodge effortlessly.

The next second, the frog morphed—growing, shifting, twisting—until Alex was standing there in human form, arms crossed, smirking.

"Wow. You guys are really committed to this, huh?"

Deathstroke's stance shifted. Peacemaker tensed.

Harley just grinned. "Oh, this is gonna be fun."

Then, without hesitation, she charged forward, mallet raised.

Alex sighed.

"Alright then…"

His form shimmered, warping and twisting—

Until, in an instant, his body transformed.

Not into Superman.

Not into a frog.

But into—

MR. FREEZE.

The iconic dome-shaped helmet reflected the streetlights, and in one swift motion, Alex raised his freeze gun, blasting Harley's mallet mid-swing.

CRACK.

Ice spread across the mallet's surface in an instant, freezing it solid.

Harley skidded to a halt, staring at the now completely frozen weapon.

"…Aw, c'mon! That ain't fair!"

Alex's voice came out mechanized and cold through the Freeze suit.

"You rushed in without thinking. That is not my problem."

Peacemaker had already drawn his gun. Deathstroke was reaching for another knife.

Alex rolled his eyes.

"Alright, fine. You want something flashier?"

His form shifted again.

Metal and glass faded.

Instead, his body expanded—muscles bulging, suit materializing, mustache forming—

Until he stood towering over them, dressed in a white and red suit, cape billowing.

OMNI-MAN.

The entire street went silent.

Even Deathstroke's fingers twitched slightly.

Alex cracked his knuckles, voice booming with authority.

"You could've just asked."

Peacemaker muttered. "Oh, hell."

Then—without another word—Alex blasted into the sky, leaving nothing but a sonic boom in his wake.

Harley groaned, dropping her frozen mallet. "Well, that sucks."

Peacemaker rubbed his face. "We really need a better plan."

Deathstroke, however, was silent.

He was still staring at the sky, mind racing.

The data they had was correct. Alex could become Kryptonian-level threats. But seeing it in action?

That was different.

He needed to recalculate.

Because if this guy could turn into anyone?

Then there was a much bigger problem.