The lair had been quieter than usual—too orderly, too predictable. Even the chaos of recent schemes felt dull without a familiar spark.

Then the doors creaked open, and a figure stepped inside, confidence radiating like a live wire. Black Manta froze mid-motion, Gorilla Grodd’s gaze sharpened, and Sinestro’s yellow ring flared in recognition.

Old grudges resurfaced. Old alliances reformed. The air itself seemed to pulse with anticipation.

The Legion of Doom hadn’t lost anyone. They’d simply been waiting—for the one whose return could tip the balance back toward chaos.