The Legion of Doom had lost its anonymity a long time ago.

Thanks to the Justice League, their faces, names, and personal histories had been plastered across every news outlet imaginable. Lex Luthor. Slade Wilson. Edward Nygma. The usual collection of public menaces.

But there had been one exception.

One member whose identity had remained completely untouched.

She’d been careful. Meticulous, even. No leaked photographs, no government records, no suspicious financial trails. Whoever had tried investigating her had walked away with absolutely nothing.

Until the Justice League got lucky.

During a televised press conference, they publicly revealed her full legal name.

Her government name.

The Legion had watched the broadcast together.

And the meeting afterward had been… uncomfortable.

She hadn’t screamed. Hadn’t thrown anything. Hadn’t demanded explanations or threatened anyone. She’d simply sat there, perfectly composed, her expression unreadable.

It was the kind of calm that made even Bane uncomfortable.

Lex had attempted to address the situation, but she’d barely acknowledged him. Eventually, she’d stood, collected her things, and walked out.

Nobody stopped her.

Nobody heard from her afterward.

For four weeks, she was completely absent.

No calls. No messages. No appearances at headquarters. Nothing.

The Legion had begun wondering whether she’d decided to abandon them entirely.

Then, at 4:17 in the morning, every Justice League system went offline.

Their encrypted communications collapsed. Their security networks were compromised. Private databases were suddenly accessible, and within minutes, the identities of every major Justice League member were circulating across the internet.

Names. Addresses. Financial records. Personal information.

Everything.

The news broke before sunrise.

Lex was halfway through his morning coffee when his phone began vibrating uncontrollably.

He opened the first notification.

Then the second.

Then the third.

His expression slowly changed.

Across the headquarters, the other Legion members were waking up to the same notifications. Joker was practically howling with laughter, Riddler was already examining the breach, and Sinestro had begun questioning how someone could dismantle the League’s entire digital infrastructure so efficiently.

Lex didn’t laugh.

He stared at the technical reports, recognizing the precision behind the attack.

It wasn’t random. It wasn’t sloppy. Whoever had done this knew exactly where to strike, which systems to disable, and how to make certain the information reached the public before the League could contain it.

Then Bane noticed something.

“Where is she?”

The room went quiet.

Lex checked his phone.

No message.

He checked the security footage.

Nothing.

Four weeks of silence, followed by the most devastating security breach the Justice League had ever experienced.

Joker slowly stopped laughing.

“Oh.”

Riddler looked up from his tablet.

“Oh, that’s interesting.”

Lex leaned back in his chair, staring at the exposed identities scrolling across the monitor.

He remembered that meeting.

Her expression. Her silence. The way she’d walked out without giving anyone so much as a second glance.

A long moment passed.

Then Lex set his coffee down.

“Find her.”

Slade glanced over. “You think she did it?”

Lex’s eyes remained fixed on the screen.

“I think,” he replied, “we should be very careful about what we say when we find her.”

Because the Justice League had made one very expensive mistake.

They’d mistaken her silence for acceptance.

And apparently, she’d spent the last four weeks preparing her response.