DC X Rider Ch 164

In the Watchtower's sterile environment, Martian Manhunter scans through countless data streams, his red eyes unwavering. The Justice League's orbital headquarters hums with a quiet efficiency, a stark contrast to the chaotic world it oversees. Barry, the Flash, materializes beside J'onn, a blur of red fading into a cheerful grin.

"Hey, J'onn! What's shakin'?" Barry asks, his voice echoing slightly in the vast chamber.

J'onn doesn't avert his gaze from the monitor. "All appears nominal, Flash. Terrestrial activity remains within acceptable parameters."

Barry leans in, peering at the complex display. "Acceptable, huh? Sounds kinda boring, even for you. You should come with me, hit up that new burger joint downtown. Best patties this side of the galaxy."

J'onn turns, his expression calm. "I appreciate the offer, Barry, but my duties here are paramount. The safety of Earth requires constant vigilance."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. But you can't be cooped up in this tin can all the time. Even Superman takes a day off now and then. You need some sun, some fresh air... some decent coffee that doesn't come from a dispenser." Barry gestures around the Watchtower's sterile interior. "This place is giving me the heebie-jeebies."

J'onn is unfazed. "This is not merely a 'tin can', Flash. This station provides invaluable strategic advantages. And I find solace in the quiet focus it provides."

Barry sighs dramatically. "You're a tough nut to crack, J'onn. Fine, stay up here with your monitors. But don't say I didn't try to save you from a life of eternal boredom." He flashes a quick grin. "Later, Martian!"

With a burst of speed, the Flash vanishes, leaving J'onn alone once more. He returns his gaze to the monitors, but Barry's words linger. Boredom… a human construct. I am content in my purpose. He continues his surveillance, his mind a fortress against the siren call of frivolous distraction. The Watchtower, his sanctuary, his duty, his self-imposed exile, remains his unwavering vigil.

Barry reappears, a half-eaten burger in hand. "Hey, J'onn, you wouldn't believe what Wally did today."

Martian Manhunter raises a brow, but says nothing.

Barry plops down in a nearby chair, crumbs flying. "He almost caught Captain Cold, can you believe it? Almost! The kid's getting faster, no doubt about it. His phasing is improving, too. Though he still can't quite figure out how to vibrate his molecules without accidentally turning invisible. It's hilarious—one minute he's there, the next, just a pair of floating sneakers." Barry chuckles, shaking his head. "He's got the heart, though. That's the main thing. Just needs to work on the details."

J'onn remains silent, his attention still glued to the monitors, a silent presence in Barry's whirlwind of words.

Barry takes another bite of his burger, then sighs contentedly. "Anyway, just wanted to share some good news. Keeps things balanced, you know? All the doom and gloom we usually deal with."

Suddenly, a klaxon blares through the Watchtower, shattering the relative calm. A synthesized voice booms, "[WARNING! MULTIPLE LIFEFORMS DETECTED APPROACHING EARTH. UNKNOWN ORIGIN. HIGH THREAT LEVEL.]"

Barry leaps to his feet, the burger forgotten. "What the—? What's going on, J'onn?"

J'onn's posture stiffens, his usual composure cracking slightly. "Indeed a very high number... This energy signature is unknown..."

Barry rushes to stand beside him, peering at the screens. "Is it Darkseid? Did he come back again?"

J'onn extends his hand, his telekinetic abilities overriding the standard controls. The primary monitor shifts, displaying a wider view of space, zooming in on a point far beyond Earth's orbit.

"Visual confirmation," J'onn says, his voice low.

On the screen, hundreds of shapes emerge from the darkness, moving with terrifying speed and purpose. They are tall, angular figures, with chalky white skin and bony ridges that suggest armor. Their eyes glow red in the void. They rode on space ships that had a round design. They were sleek and metallic.

J'onn takes a step back, his breath hitching. No… it cannot be.

Barry stares, his usual jovial expression replaced by stunned silence. "What... what are those things?"

J'onn turns to Barry, his Martian eyes wide with a fear Barry has never witnessed before. His voice, usually calm and measured, trembled slightly. "White Martians."

"White Martians? What the heck are White Martians?" Barry asks, but J'onn ignores him, his focus entirely on the approaching threat. His hand moves with a speed belying his calm demeanor, activating the Justice League's emergency communication system.

A holographic display flickers to life, showing the stark, brooding face of Batman. Even in the artificial light of the Batcave, Bruce Wayne's intensity is palpable. "J'onn, report. What's the emergency?"

"Bruce, we have a situation of critical importance," J'onn says, his voice urgent. "An alien invasion is imminent. The vanguard has already breached our outer defenses."

Batman's eyes narrow, his gaze unwavering. "Alien invasion? What species? What are their capabilities?"

"White Martians," J'onn replies, his voice laced with a dread Barry has never heard before. "They possess similar powers to Green Martians: telepathy, shapeshifting, superhuman strength, speed, flight… but they are far more aggressive, more warlike. A threat unlike any we have faced before."

"How many?" Batman asks, his voice clipped and efficient.

J'onn's eyes scan the incoming ships, calculating their numbers. "Hundreds. And they are splitting up, dispersing across the globe. We're detecting landing patterns targeting major population centers: Metropolis, Gotham, Washington… they're strategically targeting centers of power."

Batman's jaw tightens. "Understood. You must alert the others immediately. Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Cyborg—inform them of the situation. I want a full tactical assessment within the hour. This is not a drill, J'onn. This is war."

The holographic image flickers and disappears as Batman begins coordinating his own preparations in Gotham. J'onn turns back to Barry, his expression grim.

"Barry, you must assist in evacuating civilians," J'onn says. "Focus on Metropolis and Central City. Their speed will be their best asset."

"Got it," Barry replies, his initial shock replaced by a steely determination. "Consider it done." Without another word, the Flash speeds off and heads to the Boom Tube.. He turns back to the monitors, his gaze fixed on the approaching White Martians. The fate of Earth hung in the balance.

In the echoing depths of the Batcave, Bruce Wayne moves with a focused intensity, a grim ballet of preparation. The news of the White Martians—a name that echoes with dread in his memory, thanks to J'onn J'onzz's briefings—had triggered a cascade of calculated actions. He had anticipated this threat, had formulated contingency plans against Martian physiology, but never for a full-scale invasion. This changed everything.

"Alfred, status report," Bruce commands, his voice resonating with the cavernous space.

"All systems nominal, Master Wayne," Alfred Pennyworth responds, his voice calm and measured. "The Batplane is prepped for immediate departure. I have also taken the liberty of assembling a selection of specialized equipment, tailored to combat these… White Martians."

Bruce nods, his gaze fixed on the arsenal before him. "Ensure the vehicle is equipped with maximum incendiary payloads. Their weakness to fire will be our primary advantage."

A young figure appears on the platform, his stance defiant. "I'm coming with you, Father." Damian Wayne, Robin, stood ready in his suit.

Bruce turns, his expression stern. "Gotham is your priority, Damian. This city will be vulnerable."

"Gotham can take care of itself. I can help you. You might need me." Damian's voice is insistent, edged with a youthful eagerness to prove himself.

"Gotham needs you. And Batgirl, and Nightwing. Hold the line here. You’re a vital asset. Gotham needs us." Bruce says.

Damian's expression shifts from defiance to grudging acceptance. "Tt. Fine."

Bruce nods once, his mind already on the approaching threat. "Maintain communication. I will need updates on Gotham's situation."

Damian nods sharply, turns, and stalks off to prepare for Gotham’s defense, a storm brewing in his teenage mind.

Alfred approaches, offering a comforting hand on Bruce's shoulder. "He worries, Master Wayne. As do I."

Bruce offers a tight smile, a rare glimpse of vulnerability. "We all have our roles to play, Alfred. This time I need to be somewhere else."

He strides towards the Batplane, his cape billowing behind him. As the Batplane roars to life, Bruce’s grip tightens on the control yoke.

Meanwhile, Robin in the Batcave prepares.