章節 16: Presidential Matters.

Aww, the only time a female president would actually see the stage and yes, it's the senator from Batman vs Superman, I resurrected her.

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Jorno floated through the chaotic streets, surveying the damage left in the wake of the recent battle. The trail of destruction stretched for blocks, with cars overturned, buildings damaged, and smoke rising from the wreckage. His eyes scanned the area, searching for any signs of life, any civilians still in danger. King of the Clouds hovered beside him, ready to assist.

With a sigh, Jorno muttered to himself, "Work never ends." He moved swiftly, pulling trapped survivors from the rubble and ensuring they were safe. The chaos of the situation weighed on him, but he pushed through it—there was no time to rest when the world itself was on the brink of collapse.

The President's Address

A few hours later, the White House was swarmed with reporters, all gathered for an emergency press conference. The atmosphere was thick with tension, the crowd restless as they waited for answers from the highest office in the land. Questions flew through the air like bullets as the journalists, hungry for information, bombarded the podium.

"PRESIDENT!"

"MISS FINCH, OVER HERE!"

"WHAT ABOUT THE THREATS?"

"CAN YOU RESPOND TO THE QUESTIONS PLEASE?"

"IS HUMANITY DOOMED?"

"WHAT IS A KRYPTONIAN?"

June Finch, the current President of the United States, stepped up to the podium, her face steeled with determination. The weight of the world was quite literally on her shoulders. She raised her hand, signaling for silence.

"Quiet, please."

Instantly, the chaotic scene fell into a tense hush.

"Now then," June began, her voice firm and measured, "first question." She pointed to a reporter at the front.

"What can you say about the threat from Grayven and Steppenwolf?"

June hesitated briefly, choosing her words carefully. "We take these threats seriously, but we shall not cower because one being says he could—" Her sentence trailed off as a sudden, unnerving chill crept down her spine.

She glanced to her left—and there he was. Grayven, sat calmly in a chair next to her, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. Beside him stood Steppenwolf, casually shaking the blood off his axe, like a predator toying with its prey.

"What are you doing, Miss President?" Grayven's voice was calm, almost casual. "Go on, continue."

June swallowed hard, her composure wavering. "...And we... we shall maintain steadfastly—"

Steppenwolf suppressed a chuckle, his predatory gaze scanning the room. Grayven stood up, his imposing figure looming over the podium as he held out his hand. "Could I have a turn?"

The President, trembling slightly, handed him the microphone.

Grayven smiled, his eyes surveying the silent, terrified crowd. "Hello, humans. My name is Grayven, nice to meet you," he began, his voice dripping with condescension. "Now then, I've already said this once, but it seems you took it far too lightly. But that's okay. Three days."

The room remained deathly quiet, as the gravity of Grayven's words sank in.

"That is all," Grayven said, placing the mic down casually, as though the world wasn't standing on the edge of extinction. He turned, preparing to leave, the threat of those three days hanging over everyone like a dark cloud.

As June stepped back to her podium, she felt the eyes of the world watching her—waiting for her to respond. Before she could speak, Steppenwolf got to his feet, swinging his axe lazily as if testing its weight.

"Oh, I see," he said with a malicious grin. "I'm being taken lightly. What a shame."

Without another word, Steppenwolf raised his axe, ready to strike. He wasn't one for mercy.¹

In the dim light of the Batcave, Bruce Wayne watched the scene unfold on the television screen. The footage of Grayven's calm threat and Steppenwolf's looming violence had already gone viral, spreading across every corner of the internet. Every human with a device was watching. Bruce's jaw tightened as he turned the screen off.

"This is bad," he muttered under his breath. He was right. This wasn't just bad—it was the worst-case scenario. Grayven and Steppenwolf were here, and from everything Bruce had gathered, they were likely the maximum number of Apokolips generals who could be deployed at one time, aside from the hordes of Parademons.

But that was enough.

"Batman... I have an idea." Victor—Cyborg—stepped forward, his tone serious, his eyes glowing with determination. Bruce turned to face him, intrigued. Ideas were always welcome, especially now.

"Go on," Bruce said, his voice neutral but interested.

"If I can harness a specific type of energy," Victor began, his mechanical voice unwavering, "I think I can resurrect Superman."

For a brief moment, Bruce was caught off guard, his mask of stoicism cracking ever so slightly. Superman. The Kryptonian. The one who had fallen during the last great battle. The world needed him more than ever, but bringing him back… was a risk of its own.

"...Resurrect Superman?" Bruce repeated, his mind racing. "How?"

Victor's expression remained firm. "The Motherbox. It's capable of incredible things, including resurrection, if I can channel the right energy. It's dangerous, but... it's possible."

Bruce was silent for a moment, weighing the options. The idea was dangerous—reviving Superman with alien technology carried unknown risks. But with Grayven, Steppenwolf, and the looming threat of Darkseid, they were running out of time and options.

Bruce nodded, his decision made. "Then let's do it."

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[Auther: Lol, anyways, I've been writing for too long and I got work to do, this is the last chapter for today.]