"Yes! I'm dead!" Omen shouted with joy, arms raised in celebration as he looked around. He stood in a vast expanse of complete darkness—no sound, no ground, no sky. Just endless void.
This was new. He had never been here before. Maybe… maybe this time, he was truly dead. But then, he heard it.
"Who are you?" Omen froze. The voice sounded familiar. Too familiar. It was his voice—but not quite. Slowly, he turned around.
And there, standing a few feet away, was… himself. Same face. Same eyes. But there was something different in the way this version of him looked at him—something curious.
"Who are you?" Omen asked, letting out a tired sigh at the sight of his double.
"Me?" the figure replied casually, circling him slowly, eyes scanning him up and down. "I'm nobody. I don't have a name…., really. Funny thing—usually, death brings people to me. But this is the first time someone's come here on their own."
Omen furrowed his brow. "Death?"
The figure. Nobody, smiled faintly, almost amused. "Hm. Looks like you're leaving. How interesting."
Before Omen could say another word, the void shifted. And just like that, he vanished. Leaving Nobody alone once more. And leaving Omen… with far more questions than answers.
Omen's eyes slowly opened. He found himself lying on the cold ground, blinking up at the ruined ceiling above him. For a moment, he was still, too stunned to move.
Then he sat up. He felt different. His senses felt sharper. Every sound, every texture, every faint scent in the air—he registered them all with startling clarity.
His body felt stronger, far stronger. Beyond peak human ability. And his mind… it was clearer, faster, like his thoughts were processing at speeds he couldn't have imagined before.
He should've felt powerful. But instead… he felt broken.
"Why?" he whispered, hugging his knees to his chest. Tears welled in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks.
He had been so happy when he thought it was over. When he believed, for a fleeting moment, that he was finally free.
Why bring him back? Why give him false hope?
"Omen…" Batwoman said softly, stepping out from the shadows. Omen turned to face her, tears still streaming down his cheeks. His eyes were red, hollow, and broken.
"Why didn't you destroy my body?" he asked, voice trembling. Batwoman paused, the question hitting her harder than she expected. She stepped forward slowly.
"Because I won't give up on you," she said gently. "Not when I can still see pieces of the old Omen shining through… even after everything."
She extended her hand to him. Omen stared at it, uncertain. But after a long, heavy moment, he reached out. And slowly… he took her hand.
"I promise, I won't rest until you get the help you need," Batwoman said firmly.
Omen looked into her eyes, truly looked, and something in him cracked. Without a word, he stepped forward and embraced her, clinging tightly as he fought against every dark urge screaming in the back of his mind. Every twisted instinct told him to lash out… but he didn't. He chose not to.
Batwoman gently pulled back just enough to meet his gaze.
"Even if you give up on yourself," she said, her voice unwavering, "I will never stop fighting for you."
And in that moment, the world seemed to pause. Time held its breath.
Time Skip — Unknown Months Later
"…Bats?" Strapped to a cold research table, Omen spoke softly to himself, eyes fixed on the blinding light above. He didn't know how long he'd been here, days, weeks, maybe months. He'd long since stopped counting.
He had put his trust in her. In Batwoman. And in the end, he became the very thing she promised he wouldn't.
He blamed himself for believing her. For holding onto hope.
Now, he was nothing more than a test subject, pumped full of drugs he couldn't even pronounce, studied and dissected almost daily.
Death meant nothing here. They didn't fear killing him. Why should they? He always came back. He had died more times than he could remember. Stabbed, shot, burned, suffocated—every method tested, documented, repeated.
And each time he returned… he came back stronger. But he never showed them that. Let them think he was just a freak with a curse. Let them keep killing him, over and over. Part of him was using this chance to grow stronger, and another part was awaiting his hero… after all she promised.
"Bat?" one of the researchers muttered, glancing around in confusion. She looked at his colleagues, not understanding what Omen was talking about.
"Looks like Batwoman made him a promise," another replied with a dismissive shrug. "Probably told him she'd save him or something."
This one had been working on Omen longer than the rest, long enough to grow numb to his presence.
"But this guy…" She continued, tapping the edge of the table, "he might be our first real step toward unlocking immortality. That's why he was taken off the grid. He's not a prisoner, he is our key to godhood."
"Omen, right?" the newcomer asked, staring at the pale, restrained figure. Her eyes drifted toward Omen's exposed head, where part of the skull had been removed to allow access to his brain. "I heard he doesn't even feel pain. Is that true?"
"He does feel pain," one of the researchers said lazily, flipping through a data tablet. "He just has a ridiculous tolerance for it. One of our earlier projects focused on that—testing his limits. We even recorded what happens to the human brain when it dies purely from pain overload."
Her smirked faintly at the memory. "The strange part? He was laughing. Through his own screams. Sounded just like the Joker."
"Interesting…" the newcomer murmured, eyes narrowing. "I'd like to review that data later. But for now, Alexis Luthor wants us focusing on more… creative termination methods. Our assignment is to document how long it takes him to come back—each time."
That earned a groan from one of the senior researchers.
"Fantastic," She muttered, rubbing his temples. "I'm going to be late to my daughter's birthday party. Again."
With an irritated sigh, She set her tools down and stepped out to make a call, leaving the rest of the team in awkward silence.
"I'm done waiting…" The words cut through the silence like a blade.
Every researcher in the room froze, slowly turning toward the source of the voice—stunned. It had been weeks, maybe months, since Omen had said anything new.
But now, he was sitting up. The restraints that once held him in place snapped like paper under his overwhelming strength.
He could have broken free long ago. But he hadn't. A part of him had clung to Batwoman's promise. Clung to hope. That part of him had kept him still… restrained… waiting. But that part was dead now. And what remained was something far darker and twisted.
The researchers panicked, bolting for the doors, reaching for emergency alerts and comms. They didn't get far. Omen moved too fast. Faster than any human should move.
He reached them in a blur. Bones cracked. Screams echoed. One by one, their legs shattered beneath his blows, bodies collapsing to the floor in agony.
"You have families?" Omen asked with a light and gentle smile. "Good. Maybe I'll put them through everything you put me through… before letting you experience it for yourselves."
Without another word, he grabbed one of the syringes filled with the same substance they had been injecting into him for months. Calmly, he administered it to each of the downed researchers.
They were unconscious within seconds. It hit him then—what they pumped into him on a regular basis was far more than what it took to knock them out.
He turned and walked away, leaving them behind without a second glance.
Down the sterile halls of the hidden research lab, alarms began to blare. Red lights flashed across walls lined with glass and cold metal. Within moments, armed guards came pouring into the corridor, rifles raised.
They didn't hesitate. They opened fire the second they saw him. To their shock, Omen moved, just slightly.
But it was enough. He weaved through the rain of bullets with unnatural precision. He wasn't faster than the rounds themselves, but his reflexes were far beyond human—his perception, honed to the point that he could read the path of every shot and step just outside its reach.
"W-What the—?!" one of the guards stammered, panic rising in her voice. They kept firing, magazines emptying in seconds, but it didn't matter.
Omen was already closing the distance. And then…
Boom.
With a single, devastating punch, he struck the lead female guard. Her body erupted on impact, blood and bone scattering across the corridor. The rest of the guards froze, stunned and horrified.