The world was not ready.
Broadcasts across every major global channel cut to a single stream. It was not from the Justice League, nor from a world government. It was Jacob.
Standing at a podium draped in black and silver, with no emblem except the symbol of his organization—a sigil of balanced scales wreathed in iron and fire—Jacob addressed the world.
His voice was calm. Controlled. But the weight behind each word was impossible to ignore.
> "My name is Jacob. Born in Gotham. Son of Onoscoff, a GCPD officer who died in the line of duty—shot by a criminal he once arrested and later released by a corrupt judge. My mother did everything she could to raise me afterward. She worked nights. She struggled. But Gotham... Gotham eats hope. She became sick, tired, and eventually addicted. And then... she was gone too."
He paused. A hush fell across governments and agencies listening in. In the Watchtower, the Justice League stood still, staring at the broadcast with shared unease.
> "I left Gotham. I made something of myself. Built a network. Built a world where logic, not chaos, governed decisions. And now I have returned—not for vengeance, not for power—but for an end."
> "An end to this endless spiral of villains rising, heroes failing, and civilians dying."
Behind him, data flashed: crime statistics, supervillain death tolls, victims, collateral damage. Names. Cities. Graves.
> "No government has ever succeeded in ending this plague. And the League? They're gods bickering in a crumbling world. I am no god. But I am done waiting."
He lifted his hand. Behind him, projections showed something terrifying—footage of coordinated operations led by his tactical operatives, targeting villain hideouts across continents. Joker safehouses burned. Black Mask's arms depots dismantled. The Royal Flush Gang apprehended. Dozens of mid-level threats across the globe simply… gone.
> "If I cannot control a threat, I will remove it. Permanently."
This last line sent a shiver through the United Nations, through ARGUS, and even the Justice League.
The Aftermath
In the six months that followed, the world changed.
Supervillains vanished. Surrendered. Fled. Hundreds, thousands. Some turned themselves in to the Justice League—desperate to be jailed rather than vanish like the others. Even hardened criminals like Killer Moth and Firefly begged for protective custody.
In Gotham, corridors once ruled by Penguin's underlings now stood silent. In Metropolis, Intergang suffered systematic collapse. In Central City, the Rogues scattered and hid in fear.
A single phrase began to echo through the criminal underworld:
> "You'd rather face the League than Jacob."
Even in the political world, ripples spread. Governments that once secretly empowered crime networks now panicked. Some leaders plotted to control or eliminate Jacob. ARGUS proposed implanting failsafe bombs, Suicide Squad-style.
They had no idea Jacob had already done it before—on himself—and had long since learned to remove it.
Amanda Waller, asked to intervene, offered a cold response.
> "I already tried. Lost everyone except Rick Flag Jr. And he… he went to Jacob willingly."
The room fell silent.
Amanda said nothing about how Slade Wilson cut off her legs and hand during the breach. She said nothing about how Jacob later replaced her limbs with bleeding-edge prosthetics—his message brutal and clear:
> "Next time, I won't leave you a head."
She said nothing about how Argus' systems were now stripped bare. Because what could she say? What could anyone say?
Lex Luthor, ever the manipulator, watched from afar. And smiled.
Jacob had done what Luthor always dreamed of—established human supremacy, not through speeches or policies, but precision and fear. It was the beginning of something bigger.
The world would never be the same.