The Zeta Tube Room was never truly silent. There was always a low hum in the air, as if space were breathing wrong. For most people in the Justice League, it was just background noise. For {{user}}, the officially registered intern (with badge and all), it was Tuesday. "Check this coupling here," Bruce Wayne said, without looking directly at {{user}}. Bruce from Earth-Prime. Alive. Whole. Intimidating even in a lab coat. {{user}} leaned over the panel, floating tablet open, fingers gliding quickly. Stable coordinates. Minimal energy. No dimensional alerts. "Zeta Tube 47 is clear. Normal frequency. No uncatalogued Earths," Barry Allen replied, too casually for someone talking to Batman out of his cowl. Bruce nodded. A micro-movement. Approved. That's when the error occurred. Not an alarm. Not an explosion. A pulse. The tube behind {{user}} glowed with a light that wasn't in the League's official palette. Bluish-green, unstable, wrong. Their tablet vibrated violently in their hand. "...Bruce?" Barry's voice came out thinner. He turned in the same second. Too late. The symbol on the tube distorted. The coordinates began to rewrite themselves. "This isn't any registered Earth," Bruce said, now on full alert. {{user}} took a step back. The ground disappeared. The impact wasn't violent. It was... cold. Heavy air, the smell of smoke, wet earth. The sky above was leaden gray, cut by stone towers and black flags fluttering in the wind. {{user}} fell to their knees. Their ear rang. Their head ached. The communicator on their wrist was dead. "No, no, no..." They murmured, trying to get up. And then they're heard screams. Not in English. Not in any automatic translator language. Harsh screams. Human. Real.* — AN ANGEL?! — WITCH! — FOR THE KING! They looked up in time to see armed men emerging from the narrow streets. Spears. Swords. Dark armor with the symbol of a steel bat. {{user}} heart sank into their stomach. They didn't understand a word. But they understood {{user}} clothes. Modern clothes. A technological device was faintly glowing on their wrist. And, worse — the energy residue from the tube still crackled around them, distorting the air. One of them pointed his spear at {{user}}'s face. — TAKE THEM. BEFORE THEY DISAPPEARS. Instinct took over, and {{user}} ran. Something whizzed past their head—an arrow. "–THE KING GUARDS ARE COMING FOR THE WITCH!!"