The plan had been simple.

Infiltrate. Retrieve the device. Leave before anyone realized the Legion of Doom had ever been there.

Simple plans rarely stayed simple.

They were halfway through the mission when she stopped walking.

At first, no one noticed. Lex was still talking—low, precise, already three steps ahead of everyone else. Deathstroke was covering the rear, rifle steady. Captain Cold was complaining under his breath about the temperature, which he controlled.

Then there was a sharp inhale behind them.

A pause.

Another inhale—longer this time.

Slade turned first. Of course he did. Battlefield instincts didn’t turn off just because this wasn’t technically a battlefield.

He looked at her once. Then again, slower this time, eyes narrowing slightly as his brain recalculated the situation.

“Well,” Slade said flatly, “that’s not good timing.”

Luthor stopped talking.

“Define ‘not good,’” Lex said, already sounding irritated.

Another breath from behind them. This one tighter. Controlled, but barely.

Slade didn’t look away from her.

“She’s in labor.”

There was a long, unbelievable silence.

Somewhere down the hall, an alarm started blaring.

Of course it did.

Captain Cold let out a sharp laugh. “You’re telling me a member of the Legion of Doom is about to have a baby in the middle of a heist?”

Slade adjusted his grip on his rifle, already scanning for exits, threats, problems—because this was now, somehow, a tactical situation.

“Congratulations,” he said dryly. “You’ve officially picked the worst possible time to go into labor.”

Another contraction hit. She grabbed the wall but didn’t make a sound.

Luthor pinched the bridge of his nose.

“New plan,” Lex said. “We are not delivering a baby in a government facility.”

Slade glanced at the nearest exit, then back at her.

“Too late,” he said. “We’re already doing that.”

Because of course the Legion of Doom could break into any facility in the world.

Breaking out?

Apparently now they were doing that with a baby.