"You're a villain, selfish to the extreme, with barely a shred of redemption in you. A criminal in your universe, free to act as you please because no one can keep you in check." The Green Lantern floated before me, his tone sharp, his bowl haircut somehow making him look even more smug.
I raised an eyebrow. A new recruit, it seemed. He wasn't in my universe. I disliked him almost instantly, though I couldn't quite say why. Maybe it was the way he spoke, or the unwarranted confidence radiating from him. Either way, he was already getting on my nerves.
I glanced around, searching for a hint of disagreement, but it was clear, that everyone else seemed to share his opinion, at least to some extent. Even Rogue. She looked conflicted, though, as if she couldn't quite bring herself to fully accept it. Maybe because, deep down, she knew the truth: I wasn't that bad. Not entirely.
"Selfish?" I echoed lightly, a hint of amusement in my tone before shaking my head.
"Let me ask you something," I said, my tone calm but pointed. "If I asked each of you to list everything you love... how long would it take before you named yourselves?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and uncomfortably personal. One by one, their expressions shifted, the weight of my words sinking in. They knew the truth, they wouldn't name themselves for a long time, if at all.
"Most people hesitate to put themselves on that list," I said, my tone thoughtful. "They're lost in the idea that loving themselves is somehow selfish or undeserved. And you heroes, you're quick to act for others, always putting yourselves last. But is that really a healthy mindset?"
I waved a hand and pulled a Spider-Man comic book into view, flipping to a panel that showed the wall-crawler weighed down by his struggles. "You guys must be masochists," I added, gesturing to the image of Spider-Man, burdened and battered.
"This guy right here," I said, holding up the comic, "is a fool. He puts his city first, and what does he get in return? A world that kicks him down at every chance it gets." I slapped the comic book against my palm, the sound sharp, punctuating my words. "Tell me, is it worth it? Is it worth being Spider-Man? Living under the crushing weight of responsibility, all because of a few words his uncle said?"
I shook my head, my tone growing sharper. "In the end, those words didn't inspire him, they chained him. They kept him from ever truly loving himself."
"Living up to that nonsense? Not for me," I said lightly, shaking my head. "You're a hero, sure, but here's the sad truth: if there weren't so many of you around to lend a hand, you'd all work yourselves to death. You'd forget that life, real life, always finds a way to push through, no matter the struggles it faces."
"Are you saying we should stop fighting the good fight?" Superman asked, his deep voice edged with disapproval, a frown carving into his face.
"Of course not," I replied, waving off his words as if dismissing a ridiculous notion. "If you stopped, I'd be the one forced to step in and protect the Earth, and trust me, no one wants that." I let my words hang for a moment before continuing. "What I'm saying is that we see life from completely different perspectives. So let's avoid letting our viewpoints clash. It'll only lead to conflicts neither of us wants."
"I think you heroes are all stupid and soft," I said with a smirk, my tone sharp. "And you think I'm selfish. The difference? I'll happily admit it, I am selfish. I'd rather be selfish than a hero, any day." I shrugged casually. "So, does that make me a villain?"
"You killed a guard in your universe who was protecting the White House. Let's not forget you destroyed Jupiter," the Green Lantern with the bawl cut said, his voice sharp, his frown deeper than ever. "How many of its moons hurtled toward Earth, forcing the heroes there to work together to stop them? You stole the president's money, you throw people into hell just because you can, and you're strong-arming Lex Luthor in your universe to do whatever you want, or else you'll send him to hell too."
My eyebrow arched as he listed off my deeds. How on earth did he know all of that? My gaze shifted toward Doctor Fate, whose unease was palpable. He took a step back, avoiding my eyes as if my suspicion alone was enough to shake him.
"You can make anyone sound like a villain if you spin it the right way," I said with a shrug, feigning indifference. The remark annoyed, everyone's expressions tightened, and a few eyes twitched in frustration. How else were they supposed to say it?
"Whatever," I said dismissively, waving the conversation away. "Now, what was I going to do? Oh, right, searching for treasures." I rubbed my chin thoughtfully, my mind wandering to the next prize on my list. There was something I'd been eyeing, a pool if I remembered correctly. Something with the power to enhance my immortality... or something along those lines.
I really needed to start acting on things the moment I planned them. Lately, I'd forget what I was doing the second I thought of something else. Did I have ADHD? Maybe I should check on that later…
Now, what was I planning? Oh, right. I needed to figure out which one of Death's siblings was messing with her. That could get troublesome fast if I didn't get to the bottom of it.
"Earth to Broly!" Rogue called out, waving a hand in front of my face to snap me out of my thoughts. "You said something dangerous is coming, or did I imagine that?"
"Oh yeah, I almost forgot," I said softly, as the thought came back to me. "I need to get stronger. That guy looked scared of whatever this incoming danger is."
My mind wandered to my plans, specifically, getting my hands on all the Lantern rings. There was a lot on my to-do list, and it felt like it was only getting longer.
***
"…" Death stood silently, her expression unreadable as she regarded her little brother, Desire.
They were in his domain, or at least, what used to be her domain. Now, it was reshaped entirely to suit Desire's tastes, or rather, their current obsession. The walls were adorned with images of Broly. Every surface seemed to reflect Desire's fixation, from posters to ornate statues.
And there, in the center of it all, was Desire, shamelessly hugging a life-sized Broly pillow with a contented smile.
"Are you… in love?" Death finally managed, her voice trembling between disbelief and sheer incredulity. For once, the endless font of words she usually possessed had dried up.
She couldn't believe it. Desire, her ever-scheming brother, had influenced her, not just anyone, but her, to go crazy for Broly. The thought alone was maddening. The images, the feelings bubbling up inside her… they weren't hers, were they?
She didn't know the full story, whether Desire was still affecting her or if the influence had stopped. The uncertainty gnawed at her, and the mere thought of it was infuriating.
"What? No, of course not!" Desire stammered, his voice higher-pitched than usual as he scrambled to his feet. It was clear he hadn't sensed Death's arrival, and the sudden sight of her had him panicking.
Despite his usual bravado, Desire had a very real fear of Death, a fear he couldn't quite hide, even now. But this time, it wasn't just her presence that terrified him. It was her words.
Death didn't need to guess why. She saw it clearly in Desire's golden eyes, wide with unease, a rare crack in his usually unshakable confidence.
The Endless lived under Ancient Rules. As powerful as they were, these rules bound them, rendering them helpless in their grip. All but Death, who could ignore them if she so chose, though she rarely did.
One such rule was, the Endless were forbidden to fall in love with a mortal. It wasn't a mere suggestion, it was a law woven into the fabric of existence itself. To break it was to doom that mortal to an inevitable downfall, a tragedy assured by forces even the Endless could not control.
Desire didn't want his love for Broly to lead to Broly's downfall. The very thought haunted him, a forbidden truth lingering in every stolen glance and hidden obsession. Yet, deep down, he couldn't deny the connection.
Broly's many deaths, brutal, endless, and inevitable, were intricately tied to Desire's love. It was as if the Ancient Rules themselves conspired to punish what should never have been. And yet, Broly remained. Immortal.
"Broly's downfall has already begun," Death said, her voice steady but her frown deepening. "I want to know why."
Desire froze, the words hanging heavily in the air. For a moment, he hesitated, his usual confidence faltering. His golden eyes flickered with something uncharacteristically vulnerable, as though weighing the risk of speaking the truth.
Finally, he exhaled softly, his voice low and uncertain. "It's… complicated," he began, each word carefully chosen, yet unable to mask the guilt that lingered beneath.
"I don't know…" Desire admitted, his voice softer than usual. His golden eyes flicked away, unable to meet Death's piercing gaze. "But something about Broly's soul draws me to him. It's... different. He has a man-made soul, crafted to be perfect. That alone makes him irresistible to me."
Desire's fingers absently traced the edge of the Broly-sized pillow beside him, his tone growing more fervent as he continued. "But now… now he's doing his own thing, living outside of what he was created for. That defiance, that freedom, it only makes me want him more."
"I felt nothing unusual about his soul," Death said, her tone calm but tinged with curiosity as she searched her memories. Broly's soul had always seemed stable, immense, yes, but not unnatural.
Her gaze shifted back to Desire, and for a fleeting moment, a darker thought crossed her mind. Should she kill him? Would that end this madness? But she knew better. Even if Desire died, the next incarnation would inevitably feel the same pull, the same obsession with Broly. It was a cycle that wouldn't break so easily.
Desire stood there, an unnerving blend of male and female, exuding an allure that defied definition. That was just who Desire was, a living embodiment of temptation. But the real question lingered in Death's mind, unspoken and unanswered: Would Broly ever see Desire as a possible lover?
***
"Well, I won," DC said with a smirk, arms crossed as though the outcome had been inevitable.
Marvel's expression twisted with disbelief, quickly giving way to fury. "What do you mean you won?!" he snapped, his voice rising. "Do you not understand that I had to hold back? Do you want me to send the Beyonders your way? How about the Phoenix Force? Or, better yet, the Scarlet Witch?"
Marvel's rage burned brightly, his words sharp and dripping with indignation. "You'd be obliterated in seconds!" he growled, gesturing wildly as though the sheer absurdity of DC's claim had pushed him past reason.
"Shut up and face the sad fact that I'll always win," DC said, his smirk widening into something cruelly confident. "Let's not forget, I have Lucifer and Michael on my side."
The words hung heavy in the air, a mocking challenge that only deepened Marvel's glare. DC's tone was almost playful, but the names he invoked carried a weight that couldn't be ignored. He knew exactly how to twist the knife, and he was savoring every second of it.
"Oh?" Marvel shot back, his voice rising with anger. "You mean the mistakes? The reason he never bothered to be a father again?" Marvel leaned forward, his eyes blazing. "Don't make me bring out the pre-retcon Beyonder! You wouldn't last a second!"
The sheer force of his words was enough to shake the void, his fury radiating like a storm barely contained. Marvel wasn't just enraged, he was ready for war.
"Oh, shut up!" DC snapped, his smirk twisting into a scowl. "You want to throw omnipotence into the mix? Fine! Did you forget that Lucifer and Michael's powers combined rival their father's? And let's not gloss over the fact that Lucifer is destined to kill not one, but two omnipotent beings."
He leaned forward, his anger blazing as he delivered the final blow. "Do you really think Lucifer would lose to that childish Beyonder? Bring it! I dare you!"
But deep down, they both knew these were empty words, a verbal sparring match with no intention of unleashing the chaos they threatened. Neither dared to let such powerful beings step into the fray. The consequences would be too great, too irreversible, even for them.
For now, their war would remain one of words, each jab carrying the weight of unspoken restraint.
The air between the two siblings fell unnervingly quiet, their heated exchange pausing as both turned their attention outward. Their gazes stretched across the vast expanse of the omniverse, where countless others like them clashed in their own sibling rivalries.
Far, far away, a figure with striking red hair moved closer, leaping from world to world with sheer force, each landing fracturing reality itself. The figure's presence was undeniable, a disturbance in the omniverse that neither sibling could ignore.
DC and Marvel exchanged a brief glance, their argument momentarily forgotten. Whatever this was, it demanded their attention.
"Oh," DC muttered, the color draining from his face as realization hit him like a thunderbolt. "That's what Doctor Manhattan meant by…" His words trailed off, a chill racing down his spine as he finally grasped the full weight of what, or who was coming for him.
He turned his head, looking toward Marvel, only to find his brother already halfway across the void, retreating without a second thought. Marvel didn't even glance back, clearly unwilling to be dragged into whatever mess DC had stirred up this time.