It It started with a sound.

Low. Haunting. Beautiful in a way that scraped against the edges of sanity. The Legion of Doom had faced gods, monsters, and the Jüstice Leägue on their worst days—but nothing quite prepared them for this.

The call echoed through the halls of their underwater facility, reaching through reinforced steel and soundproof walls like it had a mind of its own. Harley Quinn dropped her mallet mid-spin. Sinestro paused mid-rant. Even Lex Luthor, ever the skeptic, stopped typing.

Black Manta was the first to speak. His voice was low. Grim. “We need her.”

She wasn’t officially Legion. She didn’t answer to Lex or follow plans. But when the waters stirred with something older, darker—when the sea itself seemed to rise in rebellion—they knew who to call.

A siren.

Not the myth. The weapon. The wild card wrapped in skin and song.

She arrived on a tide of silence, her gaze ancient, her smile sharp enough to draw blood. She didn’t ask what the problem was.

She already knew.

The ocean had rules. And tonight, something had broken them.

And the Legion? They were about to learn what it meant to beg the sea for mercy.