{A/N: I'm overwhelmed, I can't do the bonus chapters for all of my novels. I tried increasing the number from 50 to 100, but this led to readers throwing more power stones at my other novels. In a way, I'm grateful this only got 30 at the time of reading this, or else I would be stressed out trying to keep my promises.
So, the new promise would be simple. I'm offering 2 bonus chapters per week to only 2 out of my 5 novels. The first 2 novels to reach 100 powerstones would get an extra long chapter. Just let me know of when a novel reaches 100 power stones since I might loose track of the first two.}
It was the middle of the night, a time when the criminals of Gotham moved uneasily beneath the shadow of Batwoman. High above the city, she stood atop a rooftop, eyes narrowed as she watched the streets below.
Tension hung in the air.
For the past few weeks, the Joker had been consolidating power—bringing the other Gotham crime lords under her control, one by one.
Batwoman didn't need to guess why.
She already knew the cause behind the shift in Gotham's underworld.
Omen.
Her worst fear was unfolding—someone like Omen was now moving alongside the Joker. But that was the strange part… Omen didn't seem like the type who would willingly fall in with someone like her. It was simple if you thought about it, and it had nothing to do with the fact that she was the one who killed him.
Boom.
An explosion erupted in the distance, sharp and sudden. Without hesitation, Batwoman leapt from the rooftop, her cape flaring out as she glided toward the source of the blast.
It almost looked like she was flying.
She crossed a great distance in moments, and just as she neared the streets of Gotham, the Batmobile appeared below, speeding into position beneath her.
The vehicle adjusted its speed to match hers perfectly, allowing her to drop in without resistance.
The moment she landed inside, the Batmobile accelerated, rocketing toward the blast zone.
What awaited her was grim.
Bodies were strung up against the walls, torn and broken—evidence of torture painted across every surface.
"Blood eagle… Omen," Batwoman muttered, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene.
They were still alive.
Every one of them.
Whoever had done this wasn't looking for information or revenge—this was about pain, nothing more. The Joker wouldn't go this far; it wasn't her style. But Omen…
This had his mark all over it.
They couldn't be moved—not without killing them.
Omen had arranged it so they would survive for a few days, maybe longer, but only if left exactly as they were.
If Batwoman wanted to give them a chance… all she could do was stand there and watch them suffer.
But what was the explosion really about?
It was simple.
Omen couldn't help himself.
He wanted to torture her—and it was working.
"Help me…" a small voice whimpered.
Batwoman turned her head, eyes locking on a little boy among the victims. She looked away almost immediately, her fist tightening as she clenched her jaw.
Moments later, police cars arrived at the scene. The officers stepped out, but froze in place as their eyes met the horror laid out before them.
Instinctively, they moved to help—but stopped the moment Batwoman raised a hand.
"If you move them," she said firmly, "they'll die almost instantly."
And just like that, the street fell silent again.
The scene split the police force in two—those who believed the victims should be put out of their misery, and those who couldn't bring themselves to take a life, even to end suffering.
"Batwoman… leave. You're no longer needed here," the police commissioner said quietly, her voice low but firm.
Batwoman stared at her for a long moment, unmoving.
Then, without a word, she turned and walked toward the Batmobile.
She climbed inside, and as the engine roared to life, her eyes burned with silent fury—rage aimed directly at Omen.
"Haha! I can't believe I never thought of this!" the Joker cackled, her laughter echoing through the room as she watched the footage of Batwoman—helpless, cornered, and burning with rage.
Omen stood nearby, a faint smile tugging at his lips. To him, it was some of his most beautiful work yet.
"I plan to make my appearance to the world tomorrow," he said, his tone calm but laced with excitement. "It'll be my first clash with Superwoman and the Justice League."
For the past few weeks, he had helped the Joker take over Gotham's criminal underworld. It had served its purpose… but it had been dull.
The scheming, the planning, the manipulation—it all felt like a chore.
Omen didn't live for control.
He lived for chaos.
And this… this was what he loved.
"And what are you going to do to them?" the Joker asked, stepping closer to Omen and wrapping her arms around him with a playful grin.
"I want to hear them scream," Omen replied, his voice low, accompanied by an evil smile—one so dark, so perfect, that the Joker couldn't hold herself back.
She leaned in, kissed him deeply, then shoved him onto the bed with a laugh, climbing on top of him as she began removing her clothes…
***
"You think he's going to make his move soon?" someone asked as the Justice League gathered inside the Watchtower.
Batwoman had called the meeting, urging everyone to prepare.
The Flash was present, fully recovered from her previous injuries. Being a speedster had its advantages—so long as her legs weren't completely severed, her body could heal over time.
Most of her injuries vanished almost instantly. A bullet to the chest, for example, would heal moments after the projectile was removed. The same went for cuts, bruises, and internal damage. The only things that took longer were serious injuries to her bones.
Thanks to her high-speed metabolism, even poisons and toxins were quickly neutralized—unless, of course, she was weakened by specific means.
And as long as that wasn't the case, she had nothing to worry about.
"Yes," Batwoman said, her tone certain. "And he'll most likely appear in Metropolis. If he wants to break our hope, the best way is to shatter the symbol of it."
The air in the Watchtower grew heavy with tension.
For weeks, Omen had vanished without a trace, until now.
The members of the League exchanged glances, each one knowing exactly what had to be done. They moved quickly, contacting their loved ones to get them to safety, while reaching out to global leaders to ensure every available officer was ready to mobilize.
***
Far below, in the heart of Metropolis, a figure began to descend.
Clad in armor so black it seemed to consume the light around it, the being gave off an unnatural presence. The surface of the armor absorbed everything, reflecting nothing—giving it the eerie illusion of a living shadow, a silhouette that barely felt real.
The figure floated toward the ground, slowly raising one hand.
Without warning, the people walking below began to feel a strange pressure tugging at their skin—gentle at first, but quickly growing stronger.
Using his telekinesis, the figure made a single, invisible motion—one that carried devastating consequences.
Without warning, dozens of people on the street felt their skin rip away from their bodies, torn off in an instant as if by some unseen force.
Agonized cries erupted across Metropolis.
With no skin to protect them, every step became unbearable. The heat of the sunlight scorched their exposed nerves, and even the air itself felt like knives dragging across raw flesh.
Their screams—pure, panicked, and unrelenting—echoed through the city, turning Metropolis from a beacon of hope into a symphony of suffering.
And above it all, the being in black armor hovered calmly, arms outstretched, eyes closed.
He wasn't watching the chaos.
He was listening—bathing in the screams like they were music.
From afar, a blur streaked across the sky—Superwoman rocketing over, her eyes burning with rage as she took in the horror unfolding in her city.
Without hesitation, her fist flew forward, aimed directly at the face of the man in black armor... Only to phase straight through him.
"Superwoman, let's wait for everyone to join in before we start the fun. And we'll need a camera on this site too," Omen said, not even bothering to hide his face.
Superwoman's eyes narrowed, locked onto him with deep, burning anger.
"They were going to die," Omen said calmly. "No matter what happened today, that was always the outcome. Right now, their brains are slowly shutting down, and soon they won't be able to tell their hearts to keep beating. Kill them—save them from the slow death they're trapped in."
His words pushed Superwoman over the edge.
With a roar of rage, she appeared before Omen in an instant, throwing punch after punch—but each one passed straight through him, as if he wasn't there at all.