The EMP detonated with a violent pulse of red energy, crackling like a storm of pure disruption. The rebels watched in anticipation, waiting for the momentary flicker of weakness—the single moment Superman would falter.
But it never came.
Superman stood unmoved.
The electromagnetic surge washed over him like a summer breeze, utterly ineffective. His eyes—glowing with divine power—swept over the battlefield with disappointment.
"Was that your last trick, Bruce?" Superman asked, his voice calm. "Did you really think I wouldn't be prepared for this?"
Batman's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something beneath the mask. Frustration.
Superman took a slow step forward, the earth trembling beneath his power.
"You still don't see the big picture, Bruce."
His voice carried not as a threat, but as a lesson.
"Those who vanished weren't rebels. They weren't innocents. They were dictators."
The rebels hesitated.
Superman's gaze swept over them, piercing through their doubts.
"The warlords who enslaved entire nations? Gone. The men who profited from keeping people in endless suffering? Erased from history. The oligarchs who bought governments and used them to control the weak? They are the ones who disappeared."
His words hung in the air like an unshakable truth.
He turned back to Batman.
"And yet, you fight me."
Superman's hands clenched at his sides. "Not because I've hurt the innocent. But because I've hurt the powerful."
The rebels glanced at one another. Some were already beginning to waver.
Superman's voice softened. "You still think I took freedom?"
He gestured to the world beyond the ruins of the Hall of Justice.
"Go look for yourselves. No one is homeless. No one is starving. There are no more pointless wars."
He took another step forward.
"The people you fight for, Bruce—the people standing with you—are the only ones who lost something when I took control. But it wasn't their freedom."
His eyes burned with certainty. "It was their power."
Batman's fists tightened.
He knew Superman was telling the truth. But could he accept it?
Before he could answer, Lex Luthor's voice crackled through the comms.
"Abort mission."
The rebels froze.
Luthor? Calling a retreat?
Superman smirked. He had expected this. Luthor had been the architect of the resistance—not because he wanted to free the world, but because he wanted to rule it.
And now, he had lost.
Batman's shoulders sank slightly. The battle was over before it even began.
Superman had won.
And deep down, Bruce knew he had never truly lost control.
He had simply been left behind.
To Be Continued…