THE PROFESSOR'S DIRTY CLAIM
They had left her with one final instruction: if they didn’t return, she was to live free.
The anchor pulsed with white light, the same energy that had pulled them through the multiverse. From it stepped their future selves.
The Dictator Alex emerged first—taller, colder, wearing a tailored black uniform with the collar and chain now embedded with glowing blue crystals. His eyes held no mercy, only absolute command. Behind him came the broken Damian collared, chained, eyes downcast in perfect, empty submission. This version of Damian moved with the fluid grace of someone who had been utterly remade.