[Third Person Pov]
Lex Luthor stood amid his once pristine office. The cold night air drifted in through the gaping wound torn into the building's side, carrying with it the distant echoes of sirens and the faint hum of a city struggling to recover from chaos. He stared out into the metropolis, his expression unreadable as he observed the aftermath of the brutal clash between Danny, Superman, and Technus. Smoldering rooftops dotted the skyline, and the glow of emergency lights strobed across downtown like a heartbeat.
"...Sir, if I may," Mercy ventured, her voice cautious as she stepped closer to him. She kept her tone neutral, professional, almost delicate. "Wouldn't it have been… more beneficial to make use of the ghost? His abilities could have benefited our objectives greatly."
Lex didn't react at first, only narrowing his eyes at a particularly distant plume of smoke rising from the east side of the city. "Hmm. Perhaps," he murmured at last, the word dripping with disinterest. "But he outlived his usefulness to me. After my… encounter with that vile phantom child, I'd prefer to have as little personal involvement with beings of his kind as possible."
Mercy noticed the tremor beneath his calm, the subtle tightening of his jaw. He rarely displayed emotion—except when speaking of Superman. But now, the same venom began to seep into his tone.
"In fact," Lex continued, voice sharpening, "after what he did to me… after what he made me do—after he violated my very body—my goal extends far beyond simply keeping my distance." His eyes hardened like steel. "I want to purge this world of his kind entirely. The dead should remain dead. Their affairs with the living should have ended the moment their hearts stopped beating."
Mercy stood straight, hands clasped behind her back, her expression carefully controlled. She'd seen Lex furious before, she'd seen him triumphant, she'd even seen him uncertain on rare occasions. But this—this cold, festering hatred—was deeper. More personal.
"I've already extracted everything I needed from our dear 'friend' Nikolai. His technical skill set—while impressive for a deceased individual—is ultimately redundant. What he designed, I can recreate better. Perfectly, in fact." His voice rose with arrogant certainty. "And now I know precisely what technology is necessary to track, restrain, and neutralize these specters. The challenge, of course, lies in securing authorization to deploy it. Bureaucracy is always the true enemy."
"I see… so that's why you sent Technus toward S.T.A.R. Labs," Mercy said, the pieces falling into place with chilling ease.
"Yes," Lex replied, lips curling into a satisfied grin. "His final usefulness to me. I knew the commotion would attract that brute's attention—he's predictable, after all. And once Superman arrived, well… conflict was inevitable. Their clash was dramatic enough to put the entire world on notice. A perfect demonstration of the threat these apparitions pose." His eyes gleamed with triumph. "And with that fear properly cultivated, approval for my new specialized ghost-hunting task force becomes practically guaranteed."
He turned his head just enough to glance at her, amusement flickering in his gaze. "I haven't decided on an official name, but I'm leaning toward calling them the M.I.W. The Men in White. Has a certain… authoritative ring to it, don't you think?"
"Excellent work, sir," Mercy replied with a crisp nod. "It seems everything proceeded exactly as you intended."
Lex chuckled—low, pleased, and utterly self-assured. He turned back toward the ruined opening in his office, the night wind rippling through his coat as he looked out over the battered but gleaming cityscape.
"Yes," he whispered, savoring the view like a king surveying his domain. "Exactly."
…
Super-Phantom stepped out of the ice-crusted cavern he had carved, boots crunching heavily against the brittle snow. Frost clung to his cape as he emerged into the open air, Metallo's battered metallic body slung casually over his shoulder like a bag of discarded scrap. Floating beside him, secured within a humming containment cube, hovered Metallo's Kryptonite core—its toxic glow muted.
Danny crouched low, one fist pressed firmly against the frozen ground. A deep rumble vibrated beneath him, and a ripple of pressure erupted from his position, racing outward in every direction. The snow trembled—tiny clusters of icy powder lifting off the earth, defying gravity as if responding to his pulse of otherworldly power.
Then, with a deafening crack, he launched skyward.
The ice beneath him split open like fractured glass as he rocketed into the air, a blistering trail of white light streaking behind him. Snow exploded upward in violent flurries, spiraling into the sky as Danny punched through the atmosphere at impossible speeds.
He soared across the globe with a wild, unrestrained grin stretching across his face—Metallo still tossed over his shoulder like a rag doll. The shockwaves of his speed rippled behind him as continents blurred beneath his feet and oceans curved along the horizon.
In what felt like seconds, he burst through a final layer of cloud cover and came to an abrupt halt above Metropolis, the sudden stop releasing a concussive ring of displaced air that fluttered out all around him.
Danny glanced toward the Daily Planet globe gleaming in the moonlight. His grin softened into a sly smirk.
Perfect.
He drifted down toward the rooftop with deliberate softness.
---
Lois Lane stood leaning against the rooftop railing, her posture heavy with contemplation. The city lights flickered across her face as she stared into the bustling avenues below, lost in thought.
A familiar flutter of a cape brushed through the air behind her.
She smiled without turning. "Looks like you're back already—"
She froze mid-sentence.
Superman had landed—but not the Superman she knew. His suit, usually vibrant and heroic, was now an eerie contrast of black and white, the symbol on his chest stark and somber. His eyes, too, carried something different. Something heavy.
"What… what's with the black-and-white ensemble?" Lois asked, confusion knitting her brow.
He lowered Metallo's limp frame and the containment cube to the ground, never breaking eye contact with her. His expression—full of grief, regret, and something unspoken—made Lois' stomach drop.
"I'm sorry, Lois…" he whispered.
Her heart stopped.
"What?"
"The fight… It pushed me too far. It cost me my life." He staggered forward, his form flickering, becoming faint—almost translucent. "The only reason I was able to put an end to it was due to a deal I made with Death."
"W-Wait—no—" Lois stepped forward instinctively.
He caught her by the arms, though even his grip felt thin, unstable, like mist trying to hold onto warmth. "I can't explain much. I can feel the pull already—the other side calling for me."
Terror washed over her face as she watched him grow fainter and fainter, his body phasing like a whisper in the wind.
"Just know… I couldn't leave without telling you, one last time…" His voice echoed, breaking.
His fingers slipped through hers—"I love you."
And he vanished.
Lois stood frozen, breath trembling, the rooftop suddenly unbearably quiet.
"Y-You're joking, right?" she whispered, voice cracking. "Please tell me this is some kind of prank…"
The air in front her rippled violently.
"Urghhh!!" Super-Phantom materialized in a burst of spectral energy, doubled over and clutching his stomach. Light poured off him in chaotic pulses.
Lois staggered back just as he threw his head back and roared, ghostly power bursting from his chest—
—and Danny Phantom shot out like a launched projectile.
He tumbled across the rooftop, skidding on his back, clutching his stomach as he wheezed and howled in laughter.
"Hahahaha! Ow—ow—everything hurts!! But I can't stop laughing—hahahahaha! Ow—my ribs!"
Superman dropped to one knee, panting, glaring daggers at the boy rolling around on the floor.
"What is WRONG with you?! How can you joke about something like that?!"
Danny was too breathless to answer at first, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes—half from laughter, half from pain, maybe both.
Lois blinked rapidly, torn between horror and bafflement. "Wait—so you're not dead?!"
"No! Of course I'm not dead!" Superman said, waving his arms in a frantic attempt to calm her down. Furious and flustered, he jabbed a finger at Danny like a frustrated parent. "It was just a cruel and completely unfunny prank! Bad Danny—BAD! Apologize!"
Danny sat up with a groan, raising both hands in surrender. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I know I shouldn't have—I know it was wrong but the opportunity was RIGHT there!"
Lois glared at him with the fury of a woman who had just aged ten years in ten seconds, her growl low and deeply murderous.
Superman added a disapproving frown of his own.
Danny, however, only smiled—proud, smug, and far too pleased with himself.
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