-0-
(Jon's P.O.V.)
It had been a week since the swamp raid. Since we took down the Light and saved the Stones.
The world didn't know it yet—at least, not the full truth—but from the shadows, we had dismantled a cabal of monsters that had been steering the planet's fate for decades.
The final domino had fallen when I personally dragged Queen Bee out of her throne room in Bialya. She'd been using her pheromone-based mind control on her entire military, a living puppet show wrapped in national politics and dictatorship.
I didn't even need to punch her. She surrendered when I walked through a barrage of missiles like I was out for a morning jog.
Raven later joked I ruined her dramatic entrance. I argued she was just late.
Queen Bee, The Brain and the rest of their merry band were now in Belle Reve. The new Belle Reve. I had helped design its new layout, integrating psionic, magical, and kinetic nullifiers based on what we'd learned from the original structure. It wasn't just a prison—it was a damn fortress.
But not everyone had been caught.
Ra's al Ghul had vanished. Ocean Master, too. Talia was in custody, which meant the League of Shadows had lost its command structure—but not its function. Someone else had taken over. Someone careful. Smart. Quiet. I had a suspicion it was Deathstroke.
But he wasn't my immediate concern. Not today.
Within the underground section of our new base, I was pushing my body and mind to their limits.
Inside the MetaReality Training Room—a virtual hardlight space I'd developed with Cyborg's help—I floated in the center of an artificial gravity field dialed to one thousand times Earth's gravity.
My shirt was long gone, my skin slick with sweat that evaporated faster than it formed. Every breath was a furnace. Every muscle in my body screamed.
And I sat, unmoving. Meditating.
My aura was erratic. Red Ki pulsed across my arms, violet psionic energy flickered behind my eyes, and golden light—pure magic—circled around my chest like a solar halo. I was trying to unify them. Merge them into something greater. Something new.
So far, nothing.
No fusion. No harmony.
Just static.
"Solaris," I muttered, without opening my eyes. "Status."
The air shimmered, and the room's sleek interface flared to life in the corner of my vision. Solaris, my newly-installed AI based on the Fortress of Solitude's Kryptonian core merged with a bit of Martian techno-organic machine learning, answered in her usual sassy drawl.
"Status report: One stubborn Kryptonian still glued to the floor, still failing to invent a new energy source, and still ignoring his schedule like it owes him money."
I smirked. "Ten more minutes. I'm close."
"You've said that for three hours, darling."
My brow furrowed, trying to guide the three energy types toward a singular point in my core. A pulse began to form, slow and rhythmic.
"Just… ten minutes."
"Very well," Solaris sighed. "But you've got a press conference in thirty. Haircut's still tragic, and your team has already left for the venue. You also have a breakfast meeting with Wayne Industries next week, an invoice from Belle Reve's chief warden and a lovely package from Amazon just arrived."
"…what did I order?"
"A punching dummy shaped like your father. Kinky."
"I ordered that for training!"
"I'm sure you did."
The sarcasm nearly broke my focus.
"Why again, did I allow Robin and Kid to design your personality matrix?"
"Because your other option was asking Jor-el and that would have been no fun." Solaris quipped.
"Fun? Hmmph." Grandpa's AI scoffed from my pendant. "Fun has no place in the sacred duty of heroism. You should know that, Solaris my child, since you were uploaded with Krypton's entire archive of knowledge."
"See?" Solaris pointed out.
I exhaled slowly. The energies began to pulse in sync. I could feel it—this elusive fourth energy—just beyond my grasp. A pressure building in my solar plexus like the birth of a star.
Then—
The MetaReality Room shut down.
The gravity field evaporated. The artificial environment collapsed. My body thudded against the cold steel floor like a sack of bricks.
"What the—?"
Cyborg's voice rang out through the system speakers. "You're not Goku, man. Get your butt out of there."
I groaned, rolling onto my back. "You didn't build this place for me to train?"
"I didn't build a reality-warping hardlight chamber so you could play spiritual Lego and avoid your responsibilities!"
"You built it because I gave that computer brain of your's the upgrade that unlocked your interface with Kryptonian tech in the first place," I countered. "You're welcome, by the way."
I was surprised when Victor turned down my offer to change him back to human. His reason for wanting to stay Cyborg, was so he could protect his father the next time there was trouble.
Since then, the speed he'd acclimated to the Motherbox was astonishing.
"Nooo, I built it because you wouldn't stop talking about combining chi, brainwaves, and 'cosmic flavor magic' like a metaphysical smoothie."
"I'm calling it Omni-Energy."
"That's worse."
I snorted, sitting up and stretching out my sore limbs.
"I might have unlocked it just now if you hadn't shut me out."
"Yeah, well, I don't have a say anymore. But your girlfriend does."
My smirk froze. "Wait, what—"
Raven's voice cut clean through the intercom, smooth and sweet and promising violence. "Jon, I swear to every ancient god in every cursed book in the Fortress—if you don't get your sweaty, half-naked self out of that training room right now—I will turn you into a frog."
I blinked. "…You wouldn't."
"I will ribbit you, Kent."
I sighed, dragging myself to my feet, still drenched in sweat and residual energy. "Love you too, Rae."
"Good. Prove it by being at the press conference on time."
"Alright, alright. I'm going."
The lights flickered as Solaris came back online. "Finally. Now shower, shave, and for Rao's sake, comb your hair."
I rolled my eyes.
This was my life now.
Saving the world. Holding press conferences. Defeating magical terrorists. Meditating under 1000× gravity in my own version of the Danger Room while being babysat by an AI, a cyborg, and a goth with eldritch daddy issues.
And somehow, I wouldn't trade it for anything.
-0-
The wind tugged at my cape, the same way my nerves tugged at my stomach.
From my place behind the podium, I could see a sea of reporters—cameras, microphones, drones—all blinking and floating in anticipation.
The crowd stretched down the city plaza, with hundreds gathered below and even more watching the broadcast live. People of every shape, size, and species stood watching.
Some came out of curiosity.
Others came out of hope.
And a few, probably, were just here to see if I'd screw up my first public address.
"(I can hear your heartbeat from the roof of the building across the street, Rob)" I mentally projected.
"(Just pretend everyone's in their underwear. Mess up...and I have a camera. Oh and Kent? good luck)" My best friend replied.
I took a breath, not to calm myself, but to center the three energies swirling in my core. They didn't help with the nerves—but they reminded me who I was.
I looked out over the crowd.
And I spoke.
"When Superman first appeared, the world changed."
The plaza went quiet.
"Before him, we had heroes, yes—but we also had doubt. Chaos. Division. Then came a man from another world, who chose to stand for this one. And from his example, the Justice League was born."
I paused, gaze sweeping the audience.
"They became symbols. Guardians. Icons. And while they still protect this world, they've also become something more—irreplaceable."
I let that hang for a beat, then continued.
"That's why I'm not here to replace them. None of us are. We're not the second coming of the League. We're not a clone of the Justice Society. We're not fill-ins or sidekicks."
I glanced at the people standing beside me on the stage. My team.
"We're something else entirely."
I turned back to the crowd and lifted my hand to gesture toward them.
"Cyborg." Vic raised his hand, standing proudly with that signature half-smirk.
"Raven." Rae gave a subtle nod, her hood down and her expression composed, but calm.
"Supergirl." Kara stood tall, hands on her hips, posture confident, chin slightly lifted, proud but grounded.
"And finally—"
I hesitated half a second longer before continuing to the last and nervous member.
"Icicle Junior."
Cameras clicked rapidly. A few audible gasps spread through the crowd. Murmurs rippled like wind through grass.
There it was. The reaction we knew would come.
I raised my hand to quiet them.
"Let me make something clear," I said, voice firm. "This team isn't just about power. It's not about costumes or capes. It's about growth. Responsibility. Redemption."
I let that sink in.
"Yes, Cameron Mahkent—Icicle Jr—was once on the wrong side of the law. But what you might not know is that after escaping from Belle Reve, he turned himself in. He chose accountability. And more than that—he helped me shut down the same system that once exploited him."
Cameron blinked rapidly at my words, his hands twitching nervously at his sides. I had to track him down all the way to Alaska but semantics.
"His presence on this team doesn't erase what he's done," I continued. "It's a statement. That second chances exist. That change is possible. That even the coldest people can warm up when given the right environment."
Right then, Cam completely lost it.
He started bawling.
Not just misty-eyed. Full-on ugly crying. Oh God.
"I-I'm sorry," he sniffled between gasps. "I just—he didn't have to say all that—and now it's all hitting me—"
Cyborg stepped in smoothly, draping an arm over Cam's shoulders with a grin.
"Alright, snowflake," Vic muttered. "Let's get you outta the spotlight before you melt."
The crowd chuckled, tension broken just a little. Cameras shifted as Vic escorted Cameron off-stage, who was still trying and failing to rein it in.
I adjusted the mic again.
"Okay. We're still working on his PR training. But I meant every word. Any questions?"
Hands shot up across the plaza.
The first question came from a man in a suit with the Daily Planet badge on his press lanyard.
"Superboy, while your words are admirable, isn't it risky to allow a former villain to stand beside symbols of justice?"
"Risky?" I repeated. "Yes. Everything about being a hero is risky. But if we start judging people solely by their pasts, we lose the very thing we're trying to protect: the future. Cameron earned his place here. Not because I said so—but because he chose to become better. If that makes you uncomfortable, good. Growth should challenge us."
Another hand went up.
A younger reporter, female, asked, "So... are you and Supergirl related to Superman? And… what's your relationship to each other, exactly?"
That got a few murmurs from the crowd. Kara gave me the smallest 'don't you dare embarrass us' glare.
I grinned.
"I mean, obviously," I said, gesturing to our faces. "You see these cheekbones?"
Laughter rippled through the press.
"But to answer your question—Kara is my cousin. And one of the strongest people I've ever met, on and off the battlefield. So let's just say, I'm lucky she puts up with me."
Kara smirked and whispered under her breath, "You're very lucky."
Then a familiar voice spoke from the front row.
"Last question."
Lois Lane, standing tall, notepad in hand, her expression impossibly proud.
I swallowed. Yeah, I could stop heat vision with my eyelids now, but somehow, my mom could still make me nervous.
"We've all seen Superman in action for years. And for a lot of us, he became a figure of hope—a symbol. So to see his son, standing here, leading his own team, defending this world with the same values…"
She paused, just long enough for my heart to flip.
"Well, it makes this city proud. I'm proud."
I nodded, jaw tight.
"Thanks," I said, voice a little quieter. "That means everything."
She smiled. "So, what's the name of this new team of yours?"
I turned slightly, looking back at my friends.
Raven.
Supergirl.
Cyborg.
And even Cameron, peeking out from the wing, red-eyed but smiling.
Then I looked up at the glass tower behind us at our base, the skyscraper crowned by a blazing S—the House of El's crest, shining like a beacon over the city.
I faced the cameras.
"We're not the new Justice League. We're not Young Justice 2.0."
I straightened my posture, aura subtly flaring behind me.
"We are—The New Elites."
Flashbulbs exploded. The crowd erupted in applause.
It was official.
Our era had begun.