Mount Justice – 08:43 AM
The sun hung low over Happy Harbor, casting long shadows across the jagged cliffs where Mount Justice was carved into the shoreline like a scar.
Inside the training hall—once a repurposed hanger—the junior team was busy getting humbled.
"Hkgh!"
Robin hit the mat for the third time in under ten minutes.
Hard.
The impact let out a **thud** that made even Aqualad wince. Robin groaned, one hand splayed flat against the floor as he tried to recover his breath—and maybe his dignity.
Standing over him, Black Canary didn't miss a moment. She was dressed in a sleeveless black leotard with deep-blue trim, the familiar fishnets replaced by bare toned legs that didn't need adornment to intimidate.
She smiled—not mockingly, just cool and professional.
"You're getting better," she said, hand on hip. "But you really need to work on your balance."
Robin's answer was a grunt as he pushed himself to one knee.
She turned to face the others. "Actually, all of you should."
The others were stationed at the perimeter of the training area—Miss Martian, Artemis, Zatanna, and Aqualad—all in various stages of fatigue or resignation.
Zatanna folded her arms and quipped, "I don't think that'll stop you from kicking our butts either way."
Canary chuckled lightly. "It won't," she admitted, "but remember—you're not training to beat me." Her smile faded slightly. "Unlike me, the people you'll face out there? They won't hold back."
Robin remained seated on the mat, staring at nothing in particular. "Working on balance won't help against Arias Markovich."
His voice was low. Bitter.
The air shifted.
Everyone turned toward him. Miss Martian's expression dropped. Aqualad's brows knit. Even Artemis, who never liked showing weakness, lowered her eyes.
Zatanna exhaled slowly through her nose. "Seriously?"
Black Canary's tone sharpened—not cruel, but clipped. "He's not your problem to deal with," she said. "That's for the senior team."
Robin didn't look up.
"Now go clean up and get some breakfast. Tactical training's still at the usual time. Don't be lat—"
**Beep** **Beep** **Beep**
A sharp digital alert cut her off. The red emergency lights along the upper rail flickered to life.
Everyone froze.
Miss Martian's voice was hushed. "Are we under attack?"
Before anyone could answer, the wall-mounted screen behind the sparring mat lit up.
Batman's voice broke through the static, taut with urgency. "Canary. Are you there?"
"I'm here," she replied instantly, her posture stiffening. "What's going on?"
There was a pause.
"I think it's better you see for yourself."
His voice faded as the screen flickered again—and then stabilized.
A live feed. Grainy, but real.
The image: a massive square-shaped room. No windows. No furniture. No roof. Just grey walls—flat, uniform, like reinforced concrete built to confine something instead of protect it. The space looked the size of a warehouse, maybe larger.
And inside?
People.
Rows of them.
Men in suits, ties crooked. Women in formal blazers.
The President of the United States sat at the center, eyes unreadable. Flanking him were the Vice President, the Secretary of Defense, the Chief of Staff, even the Director of National Intelligence.
Some stood. Some sat. All of them… silent.
Zatanna stared. "Is that—?"
"That's the whole cabinet," Robin said, rising slowly to his feet. "And then some. What's going on?"
Batman's voice returned.
"This is being live-streamed. Across multiple channels. Every major news station. The various Agency's tried shutting it down— but they've been locked out of their own network. The military's already declared a state of emergency."
Miss Martian stepped forward, her expression pale. "Who would do this?"
No one answered.
Because the screen changed.
A figure stepped into view.
Diana. Wonder Woman.
She walked with slow, deliberate grace—her lasso wrapped tightly in one hand, her face devoid of expression. Her armor was pristine, her eyes locked straight into the camera.
Everyone in the room froze.
Aqualad's shoulders stiffened.
Robin said nothing—just clenched his fists.
"There's your answer," Batman said. "Canary—gear up with the junior team. But remain on standby."
"What?!" Robin's voice cracked. "You can't be—!"
"This isn't up for debate."
His voice vanished. The channel closed.
Robin stood there, teeth grit, jaw twitching.
Onscreen, Diana took a breath—and spoke.
"Good people of the free world," she said, her voice unwavering, "for too long you've been lied to by the very people you chose to lead you."
She held the lasso aloft.
"I, Diana, princess of Themyscira… am here to expose the truth."