The sirens started at midnight.

Arkham’s thick concrete walls had held monsters, madmen, and metahumans for decades. But they were never built to withstand coordination—not from this crew.

Lex Luthor stood outside in a three-piece suit, sipping from a travel mug like this was a board meeting. “Three minutes late,” he muttered, glancing at his watch.

Inside, chaos bloomed.

Cheetah tore through security with claws and contempt. Riddler rerouted the lockdown system mid-laugh, and Grodd—well, Grodd simply walked through a wall and dared it to collapse.

By the time Harley skipped through the front doors with a trail of unconscious guards behind her, Lex had already called a ride.

“Was that subtle enough?” she chirped.

“Let’s not make a habit of this,” he replied, already planning the next move.

Arkham was empty now.

And the world was about to notice.