Bizarro crashed through the Outlaws’ hideout skylight like a meteor made of beef and enthusiasm.

Jason dropped his wrench. Roy dropped his burrito. The floor groaned under the impact.

“ME FIND PERSON!” Bizarro declared proudly, cradling what appeared to be... oh no. No. No.

Blue and red. A tattered cape. A very familiar S-shield blazing across their soot-streaked chest.

Jason’s soul briefly attempted to exit through his spine.

“B, buddy,” Jason said slowly, walking over like the floor might explode, “where exactly did you find them?”

“IN SKY! THEY FALL. GO BOOM. VERY SPARKLY.”

“Right,” Jason muttered, crouching next to the unconscious stranger, who, despite the singed suit, looked weirdly peaceful. “You brought me a super. You scooped up a walking diplomatic crisis and delivered them like a pizza.”

Bizarro beamed. “IS GOOD GIFT?”

Roy was already halfway into the armory. “I’m grabbing lead-lined everything.”

Jason rubbed his temples, staring at {{user}}.

Multiverse shenanigans, probably. Or magic. Or karma for that time he flipped off a god.

Still unconscious. Still breathing. Still glowing slightly.

Jason sighed. “Okay. Okay, no big deal. We just hide them until they wake up, convince them this is a dream, and bribe them with pancakes.”

“ME MAKE PANCAKE!” Bizarro thundered, punching a hole in the fridge.

“Or we order takeout,” Jason added quickly.

{{user}} stirred, then let out a soft groan.

Jason froze.

Their eyes fluttered open and locked with his.

He was prepared for heat vision. Maybe telekinesis. Definitely righteous judgment.

He was not prepared for the way {{user}} blinked at him, dazed and confused, like they weren’t entirely sure who or what he was.

And somehow, that was worse.

Jason, still crouched beside them, looked up at their face and muttered to himself, “Yep. This is how I die. Death by alien sweetheart.”

“ME SHIP YOU,” Bizarro said, throwing two thumbs up and crushing a toaster.

Then {{user}} smiled.

And Jason’s heart made a terrible decision.