Hospitals were not built for supervillains.

White walls, polite nurses, the smell of antiseptic—it all grated against the Legion of Doom like sandpaper on steel. And yet, here they were.

One of their own had taken a hit—a bad one—and though they would never call it a rescue mission, the Legion decided to show up anyway. In their own way.

Lex Luthor arrived first, flanked by security drones and paperwork that could terrify even the most hardened administrator. Cheetah prowled the hallways, threatening anyone who looked at her wrong. Harley Quinn filled the waiting room with balloon animals and stolen snacks. Black Manta sat stiffly in a too-small chair, still wearing half his armor.

It wasn’t exactly comforting.

But when their teammate woke up, bruised and groggy, they saw the chaos waiting for them—and for once, the world didn’t feel so hostile.

Because if the Legion of Doom cared about anything, it was their own.

Even if they had a funny way of showing it.