The Return from Hell, the Embryo of Doomsday!

Deep in the Mojave Desert, Nevada, United States.

An abandoned nuclear power plant, forgotten by the world, cast a menacing shadow across the barren desert like an immense tomb of steel.

Rusted cooling towers stabbed silently at the sky. Only the howling wind remained in the once-bustling complex, sweeping gravel off the ground and pelting the weathered walls.

Deep within the power plant, an eerie, cold light flickered in what had once been the reactor control center.

Countless thick cables snaked through holes in the walls like giant black pythons, converging on an enormous life-support apparatus cobbled together from assorted salvaged equipment.

The hum of electricity was the only background music.

Lex Luthor, the man who had once stood at the pinnacle of the world and looked down upon all humanity, now sat quietly before a dilapidated console.

His bespoke suit, worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, was long gone, replaced by a grease-stained white lab coat. Beads of sweat born of exhaustion covered his once immaculately groomed bald head.

His bloodshot eyes remained fixed on the two enormous screens rigged together before him.

The screen on the left played a loop of news reports on Metropolis's post-disaster reconstruction. In the footage, that damned alien, that red-and-blue "god," was using his powers to help people clear away the rubble, wearing a sickeningly hypocritical smile.

But the screen on the right hurt his eyes even more.

Link.

That hyena from Gotham, that fraud who had stolen everything from him, stood on the steps of City Hall, accepting the City Key he had always dreamed of from the mayor. Link delivered an impassioned speech, promising to turn Metropolis into the "City of Tomorrow."

The people cheered for him.

The media sang his praises.

He had not only taken Luthor's company, his reputation,