Kid Flash cracked a grin—equal parts thrill and terror—then took off like someone just yelled, "Last slice of pizza in the universe!" The hallway ahead blurred as his feet barely touched the cracked tiles.
"Kid Flash! Wait!" Aqualad's voice cut sharp through the haze.
But Wally didn't slow. The world streaked by until—thud—a heavy, echoing footstep from the corridor intersecting his path forced him to skid, dust and shards crunching beneath him.
"Whoa—" Wally gasped, but the moment was gone.
Before him stood two rows of massive beasts. Hulking creatures on all fours, muscles rippling beneath mottled hides, towering nearly as high as the ceiling itself. Each slow, deliberate step sent tremors through the floor.
Wally barely dodged a claw the size of a fire extinguisher. The leader's massive hand slammed down inches from his shoulder, missing by millimeters.
His breath hitched. Heart pounding like a bass drum in a stadium. The creatures' eyes gleamed faintly—ancient, unreadable, like they'd seen centuries unfold.
A guttural grunt vibrated the walls.
Perched atop the leader's broad, trunked head was a smaller figure—sleek, serpentine, horns flickering a faint red glow. It hissed, a sharp, sibilant warning that pierced the silence.
The leader grunted again, turning with ponderous weight, retreating down the shadowed corridor.
Wally exhaled, shoulders loosening, and sprinted back to the team, who stood frozen—eyes wide, breaths caught.
Solaris leaned against the wall, arms folded, emerald eyes gleaming in the dim light. His trademark smirk played on his lips.
"Nothing strange here," he said smoothly, voice like warm sunlight. "Just some oversized demons on their evening stroll. Real casual."
Troia shot him a look, one perfectly arched brow raised.
"Demons? Come on. You're such a walking cliché."
Solaris's smirk deepened. "Cliché or not, you followed me down here. I'd call that dedication... or stupidity."
She crossed her arms, stepping closer, voice low and teasing. "Stupid enough to stick around for your ego to deflate like a sad balloon."
His emerald gaze locked on hers. "Ego deflating? Funny, I thought you liked a guy who shines a little too bright."
"Keep dreaming, glowstick." Her eyes sparkled. "Besides, someone's got to keep you grounded before you vaporize yourself."
He chuckled softly, voice teasing yet sincere. "You're cute when you're mean."
She smirked. "Cute? You wish."
Aqualad stepped forward, eyes sharp and steady, trident in hand.
"Clichés aside," Sentinel rumbled from beside him, black hair tousled, pale green eyes scanning the dark with practiced precision, "those things don't belong in a basement, no matter what."
The smaller creature hissed again, claws scraping the concrete floor as it trailed its massive companion into darkness.
Enchantress's lips curled, dry and sardonic.
"Looks like our welcoming committee just RSVP'd."
Solstice tilted her head and offered a light smile.
"Think they brought snacks? Because I'm starving."
Enchantress rolled her eyes.
"If they did, I'm pretty sure they're haunted."
Supergirl hovered close, blonde braid swinging, fists clenched, eyes flickering red.
"Better hope they're not radioactive too. I'm not in the mood to glow green again."
Wally stretched his shoulders, fingers cracking.
"Boss fight starts now, huh? Great. I was hoping for a nap."
Robin's eyes flicked to the dim corridor ahead, voice calm but serious.
"Stay sharp. This is what Cadmus wants us to find. And we're definitely the uninvited guests."
Solaris caught Troia's eye again and grinned.
"Ready to make a mess, partner?"
Troia quirked a smile.
"Try not to trip on your cape before we start."
He winked, emerald eyes glowing.
"No promises."
Wally rolled his eyes but smiled, the rush of adrenaline brightening his youthful face.
"Let's go break some stuff."
And with that, they stepped into the black—where monsters lurked and the real fight waited.
—
Cadmus – Sub-Level 4: Bioengineering Lab Omega
Time: Confidential. Access: Denied. Vibe: Sinister as hell.
The lab was quiet—too quiet for the wild swirl of colors glowing under glass.
Fluorescent lights flickered over rows of beakers, vials, and a ceiling rig that looked more like a torture device than a microscope. Machines hummed. Something gurgled. A cooling unit hissed behind walls of cryo-glass. In the center of it all stood Dr. Desmond, hair tied back in a tight ponytail, lab coat flaring out behind him like the cape of a man who liked to think he was a god in a world of insects.
He adjusted the pipette in his gloved hand and squeezed a single drop of pink fluid from it—thick as syrup, viscous as liquid neon.
The drop hit the test tube like a needle through silence.
Inside: what looked like simple water. Floating in it, a jagged blue crystal, unnaturally sharp and perfectly symmetrical. As the pink mingled with the clear liquid, the crystal shimmered, then began to disintegrate—slowly at first, then all at once, breaking down into a radiant solution that flared brilliant blue, casting an eerie glow across Desmond's pale face and reflective glasses.
He smiled faintly. Then, in classic mad scientist fashion, he muttered—dry and almost bored:
"Newton played with apples. I build gods."
The door behind him beeped—a single polite chime.
Desmond didn't turn.
"I said no interruptions," he snapped.
The door opened anyway.
Standing in the frame was a man built like a tank in casual retirement: broad, bruised, and visibly done with this place, clad in navy blue body armor with silver-plated shin guards, bracers, and a golden helmet under one arm. His black utility belt gleamed with a gold emblem dead center—Cadmus issue.
Guardian stepped into the lab like a guy who'd rather be anywhere else.
"Dr. Desmond," he said coolly.
Desmond sighed, still facing the microscope. "Tell me, Guardian, what part of no interruptions did you interpret as a casual invitation to ruin my molecular epiphany?"
He grabbed a cylindrical case labeled PROJECT: BLOCKBUSTER and inserted the glowing blue tube into the final slot with a satisfying click. The cylinder sealed itself with a pneumatic whirr, locking the six glowing vials in place.
Guardian took a few more steps inside, the metal of his boots thudding dully on the lab floor.
"Sub-Level 26. One of the G-gnomes pinged several hostiles," Guardian said flatly.
Desmond finally looked over his shoulder—disdain practically dripping off his expression.
"You're kidding."
"Nope."
He swiveled fully around, arms folding across his lab coat like he was preparing to grade a particularly stupid pop quiz. "Did I miss a perimeter breach alert?"
"No breach," Guardian replied, jaw tight, voice monotone with the resignation of a man who'd lost this argument in his own head hours ago.
"Then the G-gnome is confused," Desmond declared, as if that settled it. "Whatever chaos might be going on in our faux facility above ground, this—this—is Cadmus proper. The real lab. The one that makes Area 51 look like a daycare."
"Still my job to keep it that way," Guardian said, because of course it was.
Desmond waved a hand. "Fine. Take a squad. March around. Pretend it's important."
Behind Guardian, something moved. Quiet as breath.
A tall, blue-skinned anthropoid stepped into view—lean, unsettling, and eerily elegant. Its skin was two-toned, navy with deeper patches along the elbows and clavicle. It had curved ivory horns, glowing faintly, and narrow red eyes that shimmered with an intelligence that was definitely not human.
From its jaw hung two sinuous bio-feelers, twitching slightly with every breath.
"I would recommend Guardian leave his G-gnome behind," the creature said, its voice smooth and silken, with just enough bite to make Desmond glance up again.
The G-gnome in question—a wide-eyed creature about the size of a rabbit with shimmering, spiraled horns—was perched obediently on Guardian's shoulder.
"If violence should occur…" the anthropoid trailed off.
"…the little guy would be in my way," Guardian finished, reaching up to tap the G-gnome lightly on the head. It gave a sleepy chirrup in return.
"No," Desmond snapped. He strode across the lab with purpose, picking up his G-gnome from the table—its horns glinting red as it looked up at him with tranquil curiosity. He cradled its jaw in one hand, gently massaging the space behind the ears.
"The advantage of instant, telepathic communication outweighs any... hypothetical inconvenience," Desmond said. "They're not your emotional support pets. They're the world's most sophisticated psychic relay system in miniature."
As he let go, the creature's horns pulsed crimson—and across the room, the G-gnome on Guardian's shoulder lit up in response.
Guardian blinked.
Then his body stiffened. For a second, his face went slack—his jaw locking in place.
"I need my G-gnome with me at all times," he said. Monotone. Robotic. Like someone had hit mute on the sarcasm setting.
Desmond gave the anthropoid a smug look. "See?"
Then Guardian blinked again—and this time, his eyes sharpened. Back in control. Back to being the Guardian with a migraine.
He turned to Desmond, placed his fist to his chest in a formal Cadmus salute, and said—
"Doctor."
Desmond raised an eyebrow. "Guardian."
Without another word, Guardian turned and walked out of the lab. The anthropoid followed.
Just before the doors sealed shut, Desmond called after them, loud and oh-so-condescending:
"Try not to ruin anything irreplaceable this time."
Guardian didn't turn back.
He just raised a middle finger as the doors hissed closed.
—
Cadmus Sub-Level 26 – Access Point to Sector Zeta
The steel door loomed before them, rectangular and seamless—like it had been carved from a single block of weaponized paranoia. At its center, a glowing slit flickered: red. Then yellow. Then green.
With a soft chime and a thunk like a tomb unlocking, the door slid open.
Robin, gauntlet still connected to the wall panel, stepped back and disconnected with a snap.
"I'm officially whelmed," he muttered, his tone flat, face lit by the soft blue of the access screen.
Kid Flash, hovering beside him, blinked.
"Wait—you hacked that thing already?" Wally's voice cracked just slightly with disbelief. "Bro, are you sure you don't have superpowers?"
Robin didn't even look up as he replied, "I do. It's called superior training."
Wally scowled. "Rude."
Behind them, Supergirl floated midair, arms crossed, braid swaying slightly as her boots touched down. "Can we move this along before someone dies of sarcasm?"
"Sorry," Wally said, raising a hand. "I forgot we were on a Super-tight schedule."
She gave him a look. The kind that said keep talking and I laser your kneecaps.
The team advanced as one, entering the chamber slowly. A hush fell over them.
Rows upon rows of suspended creatures, towering nearly twenty feet tall, lined the chamber like cathedral columns. Their translucent, insectoid forms were twisted and hunched in fluid-filled vertical pods. Thick black cables extended from their bodies, feeding into a wall-sized generator that pulsed with power.
Every few seconds, the creatures shivered, emitting a faint electrical pulse, synced like some disturbing biological metronome.
Kid Flash whistled, low and uneasy.
"Okay… I take back everything bad I said about Cadmus. This is… horrifyingly efficient."
He craned his neck to look up at the nearest creature, his freckles stark in the humming light.
It had an elongated skull. Chitinous limbs. Joints that bent the wrong way. It looked like someone tried to build a human from alien instructions—and failed in the creepiest way possible.
"This is how they do it," Wally muttered. "Stay off the grid. No power lines. No satellite feeds. Just… bio-batteries."
Solaris stepped up beside him, emerald green eyes gleaming under dark lashes. His tousled hair looked perfect—because of course it did.
"Self-contained energy loop," he murmured. "Closed ecosystem. No oversight. No accountability. It's Cadmus 101."
Sentinel, standing a little behind them, didn't need to raise his voice. His presence did all the talking.
"They weren't born," he said. "They were grown. These things? They are the power grid."
Aqualad walked to the center of the room, his golden trident glinting in the soft glow. His jaw clenched, voice thoughtful.
"In myth, Cadmus sowed dragon's teeth into the earth. From them, warriors were born."
Troia, arms crossed beside him, nodded slowly. "This Cadmus… it's doing the same. Just sicker."
Solaris looked over at her, smirk playing at his lips.
"Careful, Troia. That almost sounded poetic."
She rolled her eyes, the flick of her black hair more lethal than a punch. "Keep talking, glowstick. Maybe one day I'll care."
He leaned in a little closer, voice smooth.
"Oh, I think you care. Somewhere under all that Amazon stoicism, there's a girl who—"
She turned sharply. "—Who could crush your lungs with a hug. You were saying?"
Solaris grinned. "...Never mind. I like breathing."
Enchantress let out a slow sigh, flipping her hair with practiced irritation.
"If you two could stop flirting in a murder lab, that'd be great."
Solstice, glowing faintly like a calm sunrise, smiled at Enchantress with the kind of peace that made you feel judged.
"They're not flirting. That's just how they argue. It's adorable. Like angry birds with unresolved tension."
Solaris gave a mock bow. "Thank you. I do strive to be aggressively charming."
Troia snorted. "More like aggressively exhausting."
Robin, already at a nearby terminal, ignored them all. He pulled a cable from his gauntlet, knelt at the access port, and plugged in with a soft click. A holoscreen rose up, its pale light illuminating his furrowed brow as streams of code rushed past.
The team gravitated toward him like moons to a planet. One by one, the banter stopped.
"Here we go," Robin said, voice tightening. "Meet the Genomorphs."
The screen displayed a full schematic of one of the suspended creatures—its biology, its enhancements, its purpose.
Robin's voice stayed calm, but his hand clenched slightly at the control pad.
"Super-strength. Rapid healing. Telepathy. Razor claws that could cut through titanium. These things… they're living weapons."
He turned slightly, eyes hard.
"They were made to kill."
Solstice drew in a sharp breath, her glow flickering.
"They're building an army."
Kid Flash stepped closer, looking from the screen to the rows of pods.
"Yeah, but… for who?"
A beat of silence.
No one answered.
The air thrummed with the generator's pulse. One of the Genomorphs twitched—just slightly—but enough to send a ripple of panic down the line.
Supergirl's eyes flared red. "If these things wake up, I'm burning a hole through every wall until we see daylight."
Enchantress arched a brow, her tone dry. "Ooooh. Fire and fury. So original."
Supergirl sneered. "Says the girl who summons ghosts when she stubs her toe."
"Better than crying every time someone kryptonite side-eyes you."
"Oh please—"
Sentinel raised a hand, cutting the tension like a sword.
"Focus. We're standing in a weapons vault Cadmus built out of nightmares. The arguing can wait."
Robin frowned, his eyes still locked on the display.
"This isn't just a vault," he said quietly. "It's the blueprint."
Aqualad nodded, his voice steady.
"And someone is planning to unleash it."
The team stood in heavy silence, surrounded by monsters engineered in silence, powered by darkness, and bred for war.
—
Robin hunched over the terminal, fingers flying like they were born to dance across digital minefields. The screen glowed against his face, throwing harsh blue light on his sharp cheekbones and furrowed brow.
Behind him, the team hovered—tense, quiet, watching.
Until something shifted.
Robin's fingers paused just long enough for everyone to notice. His eyes narrowed, and then—
Click-click-click.
"Hang on," he muttered, low and sharp. "There's another layer."
Aqualad stepped forward, his trident steady in his grip. Calm as ever. "Deeper than the Genomorph protocols?"
"Way deeper." Robin's voice was clipped. "Triple encryption, and it's not just tech-based—there's biological firewalls in here."
Solaris stepped up beside him, jaw tight, eyes narrowed like a predator squinting into the sun. "Encrypted how?"
"Some kind of hybrid cipher," Robin replied. "One part Kryptonian, one part Cadmus blacksite, one part... I dunno, mutant AI on steroids. It's like the system's rewriting itself while I'm hacking it."
The screen pulsed, then flashed. A name bled across the interface—stark white against cobalt blue:
PROJECT KR
The room went still.
Eyes flew instinctively to the Kryptonians in the group—Solaris, Supergirl, Solstice, Sentinel.
Even Solaris blinked—once—then cocked his head slightly.
"Okay," he drawled, "not to be that guy, but I'm pretty sure 'KR' doesn't stand for Killer Raccoon."
Supergirl folded her arms, braid swaying behind her like a warning banner. "It's a Kryptonian designation. Obviously."
Enchantress made a face like she'd just tasted vinegar. "Thank you, Miss CliffsNotes."
Solstice blinked, glancing nervously between her friends. "But… we've never heard of this. Solaris? You know anything?"
He shook his head. "Nada. I mean—if this was some ancient Kryptonian project, I'd know. 'KR' doesn't match any House glyphs. It's not Zod. Not El. Not anything."
Sentinel spoke, low and grim. "Unless it's not Kryptonian by origin. Just… inspired."
Robin kept typing. "That's what I'm thinking. This isn't archived alien tech. This is Cadmus-made. Probably reverse-engineered from Kryptonian samples. 'KR' could stand for Kryptonian Replication."
Supergirl's expression darkened. "You mean cloning."
Troia turned to her, incredulous. "Cadmus is cloning Kryptonians? That's insane."
Kid Flash raised a hand like he was in Algebra. "Can we all just take a moment to acknowledge we're literally unlocking the plot to every third sci-fi horror movie ever?"
"Don't forget the part where it escapes and kills us all in alphabetical order," Enchantress added brightly.
"Wally goes first then," Robin deadpanned.
"Wait—what?!" Kid Flash's voice cracked with pure teen panic. "That's speciesist. Or alphabetist. One of those!"
Solaris rubbed his temple. "Okay, focus, people. We've got a secret project hidden under a secret project, with triple-encryption and bio-locks, and it has a Kryptonian name."
Robin didn't look up. "And a heartbeat."
Everyone went still.
"What?" Troia asked sharply.
"I said..." Robin's fingers hovered above the keys. "This project file—it's tied to a biometric. And that biometric just pulsed."
Solaris frowned. "You're saying whatever's in there is alive?"
"No," Robin said. "I'm saying it's awake."
Supergirl stepped closer, fists clenched. "If Cadmus cloned one of us—"
"You'd know," Solaris cut in. "We'd feel it. Kryptonian biology resonates."
"Unless they're using something close to Kryptonian but... not fully," Sentinel muttered, his pale green eyes locked on the screen like it was daring him to blink.
Troia shook her head. "Why hide it from everyone? Even from the Genomorph logs?"
Robin tapped a new sequence, lips pursed. "Because it's the core project. Everything else—Genomorphs, energy grids, even this sector—they're just scaffolding."
A soft ping echoed from his gauntlet.
Robin froze. "Something just pinged."
Solaris raised a brow. "Please tell me that was good ping."
Robin didn't look away from the screen. "Brute-forcing the firewall must've triggered a failsafe."
"Bad ping," Solaris muttered. "Awesome."
Then—
SSHHHHHHRRRRK.
The door behind them—the one they'd entered through—slid open with a hiss.
A wall of red emergency light spilled into the room. Shadows flickered. Something moved.
Footsteps. Heavy. Measured. Not rushed.
THUNK. THUNK. THUNK.
Robin's head snapped up. "We're not alone."
Kid Flash slowly rotated in place, like someone trying not to alert a bear. "Uh. Guys? Tell me we locked that door behind us."
"We didn't," Troia said flatly.
"Awesome. Love that for us."
Enchantress summoned a shimmer of green energy to her fingers. "So... who votes we run now and scream questions later?"
Solaris didn't turn toward the door. His jaw was tight, his posture shifting subtly, tension winding through him like a coiled fuse.
Troia noticed. "Solaris. You okay?"
He didn't answer at first. Then—quietly—he said:
"I can feel it. Whatever's coming... it feels wrong. Like standing next to a storm that hasn't broken yet."
Supergirl's eyes flared red. "Someone's waking the monster."
Robin turned back to the screen, typing furiously. "And it's coming straight for us."
Aqualad stepped in front of the group, raising his trident like a battle standard. His voice calm but hard:
"We stand our ground."
Solstice stepped beside him, light blooming softly at her shoulders. "We hold the line."
Sentinel cracked his knuckles. "We break whatever comes through."
Solaris let out a soft, dry chuckle, finally glancing at Troia.
"If I die in this basement, you owe me a kiss."
She didn't hesitate.
"Fine," she said. "But if I die, I'm haunting you through every mirror you try to flirt in."
He grinned, that stupid, cocky grin.
"Wouldn't expect anything less."
The footsteps grew louder.
Robin looked over his shoulder.
"They're here."
—
The hallway breathed with red light, casting every metal surface in the hue of emergency and bad decisions. The air was thick, humming with unseen electricity, the kind that tasted like old batteries and disaster.
Footsteps echoed from the corridor. Slow. Heavy. Deliberate.
"Those aren't the kind of steps that ask for permission," Solaris muttered.
"Neither are yours," Troia murmured beside him.
He smirked sideways. "Difference is, I make mine look good."
"You're insufferable."
"You keep standing next to me. So who's really suffering here?"
Before she could retort, the figure stepped into view.
Tall. Broad. Square-jawed like someone had carved him out of righteous propaganda and post-war guilt. The cobalt and gold armor gleamed under the flickering fluorescents, and the shield on his arm caught the light like a warning flare.
Guardian.
Robin's posture straightened like a wire going taut. Solstice edged behind him.
"Don't move," Guardian said. The command rang out, clipped and clear, a soldier's bark without malice.
Four Genomorphs followed, slinking out of the dark like something that had evolved in nightmares. Sleek bodies. Whip-tails twitching. Eyes a sickly gold that watched, catalogued, hunted.
Wally took a step back. "Okay. Definitely not your average Roomba."
Robin was already scanning. "Genomorph 077s. Bio-engineered stealth-trackers. Claws can pierce armor. Tail cuts steel. Basically velociraptors with Ivy League degrees."
"I hate your metaphors," Solstice muttered, eyes wide.
"I hate their existence," Wally whispered.
Aqualad stepped forward, trident steady but not raised. His voice had that calm-before-the-storm rumble. "Guardian. What are you doing here? You're one of us."
Guardian didn't flinch. But something in his jaw ticked. "I do my best."
Solaris snorted. "Yeah, well, so do nuclear reactors, right before they melt down."
Troia glared. "Not the time."
"It was a pretty good metaphor," he offered.
"You're still glowing from your shoulders. You're literally a walking metaphor."
"You noticed? I thought you said I wasn't your type."
She turned to face the oncoming death squad. "I said you're obnoxious. My type has better impulse control."
"Unfair. I'm trying. Just not very hard."
Kid Flash threw up his hands. "Okay! Hi! Yes! Maybe we flirt after the mutant blade-lizards are handled?!"
"You mean if we survive," Robin added grimly.
Guardian didn't blink. "You're trespassing. This is Cadmus jurisdiction. You're all being detained."
"You realize there are clone tanks in the basement?" Kid Flash demanded. "Alien pods? One of them is labeled Project Krypton, and I'm pretty sure that's not a breakfast cereal!"
Guardian's face remained neutral. "I'll inform the League."
Beep.
A single chime sliced through the tension.
Robin looked down at his gauntlet. Eyes widened.
"Decryption complete."
Everyone tensed.
Solaris blinked slowly. "Oh no."
Troia turned. "What is it?"
"Something's off," Solaris whispered. He didn't look at her. "Something's wrong."
Enchantress stepped closer to him, emerald light sparking at her fingertips. Her hand brushed his wrist. Their auras flared — his like sunrise, hers like chaotic thunderclouds.
Solstice's voice came faint and worried. "The air's wrong. He feels... broken."
"There's something in his head," Solaris whispered, closing his eyes. "Something pushing. Not all the way in. But enough."
Enchantress nodded, her voice low. "Not possession. Leash. Psychic override. A mental trigger."
Robin's voice cut like glass. "Guardian's not in control. One of the 077s is pulling his strings."
The Genomorphs growled in perfect unison.
Kid Flash looked at Guardian, voice shaking. "The League doesn't know. Right? They don't know you're breeding weapons down here. What would Superman say?"
The name hit like a sledgehammer.
Guardian's expression fractured. His mouth opened, lips forming something broken.
"Superman..."
His shield arm trembled.
Aqualad took a step closer. "Jim. You don't have to obey them. This isn't you."
For a heartbeat, the man inside the armor wavered. Something flickered. A breath. A plea. Almost an apology.
Then the 077 behind him hissed.
And the flicker died.
Guardian's eyes went blank.
"I gave you a chance," he said.
His voice had no warmth. No doubt.
"Genomorphs. Subdue them."
The 077s lunged.
Claws out. Tails slashing.
The air exploded into chaos.
Solaris flung his arms wide, flames igniting across his forearms. "You know, this is exactly how I thought today would end."
"Because you're a pessimist!" Troia shouted, yanking her lasso free. "You probably wake up expecting doom!"
"Not doom. Just emotionally repressed violence."
"You mean you?!"
"I mean us! This! All of it!"
Supergirl launched into the fray with a battle cry that cracked the walls.
Robin dropped smoke pellets.
Enchantress was already chanting.
Solstice burned white.
Aqualad threw his trident.
Kid Flash screamed, "IF I DIE, I BLAME SOLARIS'S FLIRTING!"
And the fight began.
—
The chamber detonated into a war zone of light, flame, and kinetic violence.
Aqualad surged forward like a tide, his electrified trident slamming into a Genomorph's chest with the satisfying crunch of impact and power. He flipped over the tail that sliced through the air behind him and landed with the grace of a predator in his element.
Robin moved like a shadow, precise and unpredictable, dropping EMP pellets and flashbangs like breadcrumbs of calculated chaos. A blast went off near a wall, short-circuiting two advancing Genomorphs mid-lunge.
Solstice flared white-gold, her magic radiant and wild, trailing behind Kid Flash as he blurred through the battlefield.
"Can we not fight genetically engineered horror snakes every week?!" Wally yelped, sliding under a tail that embedded itself in a wall.
"File a complaint!" Robin shouted, twisting midair. "Ask for the Nightmare Department!"
A crackling boom echoed overhead.
Sentinel descended like a comet, slamming into the ground with a shockwave that flattened a Genomorph trying to flank Solstice. His black hair swept back in the blast wind, pale green eyes sharp with brotherly rage.
"Hands off my little sister," he growled, planting his foot into the creature's chest and hurling it across the lab.
"That's my line!" Solaris called from across the chaos, ducking a claw swipe and sending a solar flare burst into the next attacker.
Solstice, aglow and exasperated, sighed. "Boys. Seriously."
Troia's golden lasso wrapped around a Genomorph's throat. She yanked, muscles taut, and sent it flying. Her boots skidded to a halt beside Solaris, breath hot and fast.
"Guardian's still guarding. And brooding. And in the way."
Solaris cracked his knuckles. Sparks danced down his arms.
"Then let's un-brood him."
She rolled her eyes. "That's not a verb."
"We'll make it one. You lead with the rope. I distract him with my charming smolder."
Troia shot him a look. "That is not a strategy."
He grinned, green eyes gleaming. "Worked on you."
Her face flushed, betraying a hint of a smile. "You're infuriating."
"And you're blushing. So who's winning?"
"Still me."
They sprinted together.
Guardian stood like a living wall, cobalt and gold gleaming with menace. His stance was perfect. His eyes were empty.
Solaris went low first, heat vision burning the floor into molten streaks to force Guardian to sidestep. Troia came from the opposite angle, lasso already spinning. The golden rope snapped out and looped around Guardian's shield. She yanked. It rattled his arm, staggering him half a step.
"You have got to work on your timing," Solaris shouted.
"I did! You hesitated!"
"I was admiring your form."
"Flattery in combat?"
"Multi-tasking."
Solaris launched upward with a kinetic flare of solar energy, twisting midair and bringing both fists down in a blazing hammer blow.
Guardian raised his shield, absorbing the strike with a seismic crack. The floor split beneath his boots.
Their eyes locked.
Solaris gritted his teeth. "You're stronger than this, man. Don't let some psychic lizard puppet you."
Guardian didn't blink. But something in his jaw shifted. A tremble.
His arm twitched.
Troia stepped forward. "Jim. You know this isn't right. We know you."
His lips parted.
Then something clicked in his gauntlet.
Solaris saw it a second too late.
"Troia, MOVE!"
But Guardian's gauntlet flared with blue-white light.
The pulse blast exploded between them, a force wave that slammed Solaris into a column and sent Troia flying backward, tumbling across the ground.
"Okay," Solaris groaned, peeling himself from the rubble. "That hurt in places I didn't know existed."
Troia coughed as she sat up. Her braid had come undone.
"Still think the smolder was enough?"
He gave her a pained grin. "I was hoping he'd swoon."
"Swoon harder next time!"
Above them, Guardian advanced, shield raised.
Sentinel blurred into motion, slamming into Guardian at full Kryptonian force, both of them crashing into a wall. The Genomorphs shrieked as their connection stuttered.
"Stay away from my brother," Sentinel growled, eyes blazing. "And my sister. And anyone else who's under five-foot-five and snarky."
"I'm five-five and a half!" Robin called from across the room.
Supergirl crashed into another Genomorph midair, twisting its tail and slamming it into the ceiling.
Enchantress spun in a circle, emerald runes flaring around her as she shrieked a spell that pinned three enemies in place.
"Focus!" she yelled. "They're connected! Take down Guardian and the rest will falter!"
Solaris wiped blood from his lip, then looked at Troia.
"One more time?"
She twirled the lasso, hair wild, eyes blazing.
"Let's bring him back."
Together, they ran toward the storm.
---
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