Just as I'm about to light up Doomsday's sorry excuse for a face with my patented "flaming demolition" combo, my comm cracks like a whip.
"Shadowflame! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Batman's voice hits me like a Batman-shaped anvil—grim, gravelly, and probably ready to lecture me for the next century.
Yeah, I know it's Bats. The world's darkest, broodiest hall monitor. I glance up at my HUD, which is flashing very "You're about to get roasted, kid" vibes.
"Taking care of the problem, Bats. What's it look like? Oh right, giant monster trying to squash everything, including my sanity." I toss a fireball that lands smack on Doomsday's shoulder, making him roar like he just stubbed his toe on a meteor.
"Breaking chain of command," Batman drones, like he just caught me with my hands in the Justice League cookie jar. "Young Justice was assigned crowd control. The League is prepping to engage after Superman pins this thing down. You're compromising the operation."
Cue Supergirl sliding onto the comm, sharp as her heat vision, cutting off Bats like she's got zero patience for his drama.
"Batman, with all due respect—and I mean all of it—your assumption that Superman can solo this is laughable." Kara's voice is ice with a blade inside it. "This isn't a giant punching bag. It's Doomsday."
I can almost hear Batman's brain glitching. "Doomsday?" His voice tightens, like he's trying to Google "apocalyptic Kryptonian nightmare" without a search bar.
"Yeah, Bats," Kori pipes up, her fiery energy crackling in my ear like a solar flare with attitude. "Genetically engineered Kryptonian super-soldier, rage incarnate, and allergic to breathing creatures."
I snort, sending another blast into Doomsday's knee—because why not? "Basically, the universe's version of a demolition derby in a bad mood. And guess what? Superman's getting his ass handed to him hard."
Batman exhales, this long, defeated sigh like the weight of Gotham's entire bat-cave is on his shoulders. "Then why didn't you report this back? Why act like vigilantes instead of teammates?"
I roll my eyes so hard I swear I see my own brain waving hello. "Because, Bats, last I checked, reporting 'super-Kryptonian-level apocalypse incoming' after your best guy's face is mashed into the pavement isn't the exact moment for protocol meetings."
Kara softens a fraction, but don't mistake that for backing down. "We did what was necessary. Lois and Jimmy are down there. If we'd waited, more civilians would be pancake toppings."
Meanwhile, Lois is yelling into her own comm, voice pure fire, totally channeling Rachel Brosnahan's "smartest person in every room" energy: "Clark, you better hold him! The last thing I want to file is 'breaking news: city leveled because Superman underestimated a mutant Kryptonian!'"
And Jimmy, bless him, is nervously snapping pictures like the apocalypse is a contest for best Instagram story. "If I get one good shot of Doomsday crushing a building, this is gonna blow up the internet!"
Superman groans, voice strained but still heroic—think Henry Cavill putting every ounce of "I got this" into a losing fight. "I did say I could handle it…"
"Yeah, well, dude, you're not handling it. More like... getting handled." I say it loud enough for Kara to hear, and she shoots me a grin that's way too warm for the apocalypse.
Batman's quiet for a beat, then finally: "Fine. But stay sharp. Reinforcements inbound. We can't afford more improvising."
I flash my most charming grin. "Got it, Bats. But next time, maybe send a search party before the guy you think can handle Doomsday looks like he lost a fight with a truck—preferably one that hits harder than a punch from Superman."
Comm cuts. My heart's pounding, adrenaline spiking. Doomsday's still snarling, probably thinking about lunch, which apparently includes anything with a pulse.
Kara lands beside me, heat radiating from her like the sun just decided to drop in for a visit. She smirks. "Ready for round two?"
"Born ready," I say, cracking my neck like a pro—because you have to look cool while facing down a nightmare that could bench-press a mountain.
Kori's flames flare hotter, that trademark smirk lighting up her face. "Let's give this monster a taste of real fire." She steps closer, and I can't help but notice the way her eyes catch the light—dangerous, beautiful, and definitely distracting.
Then there's Galatea, cool and focused, landing beside us like Sydney Sweeney's character just walked off a sci-fi set. "Protect the civilians. End this."
I glance at her, then Kara, then Kori. The chemistry between us is thick enough to cut with a knife—or, you know, a fireblade. The heat from Kara and Kori isn't just flames; it's electric. And Tia's calm strength grounds me, reminds me we're a team, a family.
"Let's do this," I say, and suddenly it's a warzone.
Doomsday swings, a fist like a wrecking ball aimed straight for my face. I dive, dodging, letting Kori's solar blasts rip chunks from his armor, while Kara's heat vision hammers at his joints.
I'm in the thick of it, fire swirling around my hands, chanting savage burns with every punch and flame. "You're ugly, you smell like bad decisions, and you just lost."
Doomsday roars, swinging again, but I catch his arm mid-swing—burning it with white-hot flames, making him howl like he stepped on a Lego.
Then Kori's right there, flames licking her fingers as she brushes against my arm, sending a jolt down my spine that has nothing to do with the heat. Kara flies close, voice low and teasing, "Don't get cocky, Shadowflame."
I grin. "Too late."
And just like that, we're a whirlwind of fire, flight, and fury—three against a nightmare, and somehow, I've never felt more alive.
—
You ever try fighting a 12-foot rage monster while three goddess-tier bombshells are all judging your form and flirting with you mid-battle? No? Just me?
Cool. Welcome to Tuesday.
Doomsday is rampaging across Metropolis like a toddler who's discovered sugar and tank armor. Every punch he throws could register on the Richter scale, and lucky me, I'm the designated punching bag.
I flip through the air, my black and gold armor catching the sunlight like I planned it (I didn't, but let's pretend). My crimson cloak flutters heroically behind me even though there's no wind—thank you, enchantments—and my fire-wings blaze out like a phoenix with a caffeine addiction.
"Shadowflame, left!" Kara shouts—no, commands—as she divebombs past me in a blur of red and blue. Her blonde hair is a cyclone behind her, and she's got that fierce, defiant scowl going like she's auditioning to play the goddess of war.
I twist midair, dodging Doomsday's fist by a hair, and shoot back, "Relax, Princess Krypton. I got this."
She zips up beside me, lips curled into a smirk. "You always say that. Then you do something insane and nearly die."
"Keyword: nearly."
Below us, Kori unleashes a nova blast that turns the sky orange. She floats with her hands blazing like twin suns, her hair a glowing waterfall. Goddess-style regality, mixed with the fact that she's currently melting a skyscraper by accident.
"Harry," she calls, voice all velvet and wildfire, "I advise you to stop flirting and hit something."
I grin, flipping upside down as I charge a spell. "Why not both?"
Doomsday roars. I'm talking WWE meets Jurassic Park roar. His whole body pulses with these gross green tubes of what I can only assume is murder juice, and his bony spikes shoot out like Wolverine on steroids.
"Okay," I mutter, fingers crackling with heat as my chest gem flares red. "Time to show Big Ugly what a Gryffindor-trained chaos wizard with fire wings and anger issues can do."
I shoot down like a comet, slam both palms into Doomsday's chest, and yell, "Ignis Incendia Totalus!" Flames explode outward in a flashbang of white-hot magic, and Doomsday actually stumbles.
Score one for the flaming wizard boy.
"Need a hand?" a smoky voice purrs beside me—and suddenly Tia's floating there, her platinum hair whipping in the heatwave. Blonde bombshell meets living nuclear weapon. Her smile? Lethal. Her fists? Glowing with that silvery energy that says, 'I break mountains for brunch.'
"Thought you'd never ask," I say, and—yes—I wink. Can't help it. Her blush? Totally worth the broken ribs I'm about to get.
Tia rockets forward, punches Doomsday in the gut hard enough to make me wince, and I follow up by launching a fire-whip from my hand, lashing it around his neck. Kara and Kori come in like heat-seeking missiles, tag-teaming his legs and joints.
Team Shadowflame, baby. Coordination, chemistry, and chaos.
And then Doomsday smacks me halfway across the city.
I bounce off a building (ow), crash through a billboard for LexCorp (double ow), and land in a crater (triple ow and bonus dirt sandwich). My armor's cracked, my hair's on fire—literally—and my internal organs are playing musical chairs.
"Okay…" I groan. "I might have overestimated my coolness factor."
"Ya think?" Kara's voice crackles in through the comms. "Next time, try dodging."
"Next time, try saving me a turn before you hog all the glory," I shoot back.
"Less flirting, more frying," Kori says, voice that perfect mix of royalty and sass.
Tia's voice is silk. "If you boys are done measuring your heat vision, I suggest we end this."
Superman's voice buzzes in my ear, calm but strained. "Shadowflame, this is Kal. I'm heading up to recharge in direct solar orbit. You've got the lead."
Translation: You're in charge while I go full plant-on-a-windowsill.
I roll my shoulders and rise out of the crater, fire-wings blazing, eyes glowing gold behind my shimmering golden mask.
"Roger that, Big Blue. Go soak up some vitamin D. We'll tuck the monster in."
"Just… don't die." He almost sounds amused.
"No promises."
I jet forward, my wings propelling me like a rocket, fire blazing behind me. Doomsday sees me coming—and this time, he's the one who flinches.
Good.
Kori's by my side, fiery eyes dancing. "Think you can handle the finale?"
"Oh, sweetheart," I purr, "I am the finale."
We hit him together—magic, solar fire, Kryptonian fury, and Galatea's god-punch. It's like the Fourth of July had a baby with the apocalypse. Doomsday howls, cracks, and then finally collapses in a smoking heap.
Silence.
Then Kori floats in front of me, hair sizzling. "You are completely insane."
"Yeah," I pant, "but you like that about me."
Tia leans in, real close. "Don't let it go to your head, fireboy."
"Too late."
Kara lands lightly beside us, brushing dust off her shoulder like she didn't just help punch a godzilla into the pavement. "You owe me lunch."
"I owe you a lot of things," I say, and then—with absolutely no shame—I give them my most dangerous smile. "We could always start with dinner. Maybe a long shower. Group hug after?"
Kori raises an eyebrow. "You're incorrigible."
Tia steps in close, fingers trailing fire along my chestplate. "But charming."
Kara rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. "Come on, loverboy. Let's get out of here before someone wakes him up again."
I spread my wings, flames flaring wide, and gather them close.
"We saved the day, roasted a monster, and looked hot doing it," I say. "Not bad for a Tuesday."
—
You know that moment when you land the final blow, deliver your best one-liner, and the music swells like the end credits are about to roll?
Yeah. That lasted, like, five seconds.
Because now the crater where Doomsday's supposed to be dead is glowing green like a radioactive rave pit.
Kara's eyes narrow. "I told you."
"Right, right," I mutter, already backing up. "Something about this guy being the world's worst boomerang?"
She doesn't even look at me. "Every time he dies, he evolves. Learns. Whatever killed him once? Doesn't work again."
Tia crosses her arms and scowls like someone canceled her Netflix subscription. "So now he's immune to Kryptonian punches, magic napalm, and the combined wrath of Team Hot and Glowy?"
"Yup," I say, trying not to sound like I'm internally screaming. "He's like a murder Pikachu. Just evolved into Doomsdaychu."
Kori floats above the ground, her hair blazing like a comet. "That is… horrifying. And adorable."
"Welcome to my life," I mutter.
Doomsday's corpse—or what used to be one—jerks. Bone shards snap back into place. Muscles bulge. His new armor looks like it was forged by a metalhead with anger issues and zero regard for OSHA safety standards. And his eyes?
Yeah, definitely glowing with the same homicidal glee as a toddler holding a permanent marker near a white couch.
"Oh come on," I groan. "We were this close to celebratory milkshakes!"
"I wanted whipped cream," Kori says, deadpan.
"I wanted a nap," Kara adds.
"I wanted to not die," I finish. "Guess we all lose."
Doomsday roars and lunges. No buildup, no monologue, just 800 pounds of angry evolution coming at us like an angry missile full of knives.
I throw up a shield of searing phoenixfire—he barrels through it like it's wet tissue paper. Tia slams a gravity punch into the ground that knocks him off balance, and Kara slams into his chest mid-air with the force of a Kryptonian rocket.
It slows him.
Barely.
"Plan?" Kori yells.
"Panic," I shout back.
"Improvised panic!" Kara grins, flipping mid-air and dropkicking Doomsday's face.
He barely flinches. Bad sign.
Just as I'm calculating the odds of dying in a sexy, tragic explosion (decently high, honestly), the sky rips open.
Like, actually tears. Clouds sucked into a spinning vortex of heat and pressure. Birds scatter. Car alarms go off from here to Gotham. And then—
BOOM.
A golden blur hits Doomsday like divine judgment in a red cape.
The shockwave flips a city block. Doomsday goes through a LexCorp tower. Because of course it's Lex's building. The man attracts karma like I attract magical trauma.
And then—
There he is.
Floating mid-air like the last line of the national anthem. Cape billowing, eyes glowing sunfire red, abs carved by the gods themselves. Henry Cavill levels of handsome and then some.
Kal-El. Superman. Solar-powered wrath incarnate.
"You kids break everything," he says, voice calm, powerful, and very, very annoyed.
"Hey," I raise a hand. "In my defense, he started it."
"By existing," Kara mutters.
Kal's gaze flicks to me, then to Kara. "Shadowflame. Supergirl. Status?"
"Uh," I say, rotating my shoulder with a wince. "Peachy. Only mostly dislocated. I've been worse. Got swallowed by a basilisk once."
Kal doesn't react. He just looks at the smoking hole where Doomsday used to be. "He's stronger now."
"Yeah," I sigh. "He's like the Terminator, if the Terminator got a power-up every time you punched it in the face."
Kal's jaw clenches. His voice is steel. "Then we stop holding back."
No banter. No hesitation. He rockets forward, punching a sonic boom into the air.
And then he's in it—fist to claw, heat vision blazing, smashing Doomsday through buildings, into rivers, back into buildings, into other Doomsdays probably. It's not a fight. It's a collision of mythologies.
"Three minutes before this levels Metropolis," I mutter.
"Two and a half," Kori says, already glowing.
Tia smirks, floating beside me. "So… backup?"
"We are the backup," I say. My wings flare—golden, searing, phoenixborn fire stretching wide across the skyline. "Team Shadowflame, let's melt some monsters."
"You're lucky you're hot when you say things like that," Tia murmurs.
Kori floats closer, brushing a glowing hand along my arm. "You mean when he says things like that."
Kara rolls her eyes, though her cheeks are definitely pink. "Focus, team hormones. Murder Pikachu first. Flirting later."
"Who says we can't multitask?" I grin.
We launch.
Kara streaks forward, weaving through debris, dodging Doomsday's bone spikes with mid-air flips that'd make a gymnast weep. Kori follows, radiant and furious, energy blazing from her hands as she fires twin starbolts into Doomsday's side.
Tia lands on a rooftop and slams her palms down, sending a shockwave of concentrated pressure into the monster's legs. He stumbles—and that's my window.
I dive, wings tucked, sword made of fire blazing in my hand.
It isn't just a blade. It's a statement. A six-foot piece of "I dare you" forged in phoenixfire and ancient sarcasm.
I slam it into Doomsday's back. He roars, spins—and for a split second, our eyes meet.
"Surprise, ugly," I snarl.
He swings. I duck. He punches. I parry.
He tries to stab me with his bone elbow, but I grab it, flip over him, and stab my sword into the joint.
"Fun fact," I say, landing next to Kara, "he still doesn't like fire."
"You're hot when you stab things," Kara says, panting.
"Right back at you," I wink.
"Can you two flirt less and fight more?" Tia calls from a rooftop.
"Counterpoint," Kori hums as she melts Doomsday's left leg, "flirting is how we fight."
Kal crashes back into view, cloak tattered, one eye blackened. He looks like vengeance dipped in sunshine.
He glances at me. "He's adapting too fast."
"Then we overwhelm him," I say, wings spreading wide. "No patterns. No pauses. Just raw chaos."
Kal nods. "Together, then."
And we do.
All five of us.
One Kryptonian god. Two solar-powered badasses. One gravity-slinging demigoddess. And me—Shadowflame. The snarky magical wildcard with a flair for theatrics and zero regard for the Geneva Convention when my friends are in danger.
We hit Doomsday like the end of the world. Again.
Except this time?
We mean it.
—
Okay, so here's the thing about fighting Doomsday: it's a lot like arguing with a brick wall. A very stabby, screamy, mutation-happy brick wall that hates you personally. Like, somehow he looked at me and decided I was the specific reason his parents never hugged him.
Anyway, Doomsday screams.
It's the kind of sound that makes your soul cringe. Blood curdles. Babies cry. Pavement cracks. I swear one of his spikes grew an extra spike just from the sheer angst.
He shifts. Twists. Spikes bloom like boneflowers on his shoulder—and suddenly, WHAM, one of those nightmare spears shoots straight for my ribs.
Mid-air. No time to dodge.
I brace for impact.
Kara yells my name like she's about to vaporize the planet.
Tia roars and leaps from the rooftop like a blonde cannonball of divine fury.
Kori's already glowing like a solar-powered goddess ready to unleash.
And then—
CLANG.
A golden shield intercepts the bone spike with the sound of the universe filing a restraining order. Trucks flip. Windows shatter. Small children in Kansas drop their ice cream.
And standing there, like a divine middle finger to death itself, is her.
Diana. My Wonder Mom.
Her armor glows. Her eyes blaze like molten vengeance. Her hair is doing that thing where it waves in the wind like it's got its own battle soundtrack. And oh sweet Hera, she looks pissed.
"You DARE lay a hand on my son?" she growls, and I'm pretty sure Mount Olympus just gave her a standing ovation.
Doomsday… hesitates.
Yep. The 12-foot murder porcupine takes a step back. That's when you know things just escalated to Nope-level 9000.
BOOM.
Hal Jordan zips in like a glowstick missile, Green Lantern suit lighting up the skyline. "You leave Earth for five minutes and it turns into Doomapalooza?"
Zzzzzt-WHOOSH.
Flash appears in a lightning blur, soot-streaked and grinning. "Please tell me this guy has a pause menu. I need a burrito break."
Then, all quiet. The calm before the cosmic thunderstorm.
Float.
Martian Manhunter descends like the ghost of strategy itself. J'onn J'onzz gives me a once-over with those unreadable alien eyes.
"You are bleeding," he says. Helpful guy.
I glance at my arm. "Neat. Internal barbecue. New feature."
Diana turns to me, voice soft, eyes sharp enough to cut Doomsday in half. "Are you alright?"
"Define 'alright.' Ribs might be soup. Ego's fine, though."
Kori floats in beside me, her hair a flaming halo. "He flirts. He is fine."
Barry peeks over Diana's shield. "Shadowflame's got protagonist energy."
Kara, radiating fury and concern, mutters, "He is the protagonist."
"Technically," I croak, "I was kidnapped, had my DNA forcefully tangoed with that of an Amazonian Demigoddess, which triggered ancient Phoenix and Basilisk genes, so now I'm basically a chaos wizard with wings and anger issues. Nature and nurture."
Tia lands like a blonde thunderclap beside me. Her bodysuit cracked with power, she glares at Doomsday. "Round two. With backup moms."
Diana raises her lasso. "We end this. Now."
Kal—bruised, battered, every inch the hero—steps beside her. Henry Cavill in peak glorious mode. "He's adapting too fast. Alone, we fall. Together—"
"We rewrite the rules," I say, sword igniting with phoenixfire. "Welcome to the family reunion, Doomsdouche."
Doomsday roars.
And then? Boom.
Diana and Kal hit first. Blades and fists, sunfire and divine judgment.
Tia collapses gravity around his legs, pinning him like he owes her money.
J'onn phases through Doomsday's torso like a grim reaper on stealth mode.
Kori and Kara dive-bomb him with synchronized solar strikes, Kara's heat vision slicing through bone while Kori rains starbolts like cosmic glitter bombs.
Barry zips around, dodging spikes and sass-talking. "Somebody definitely forgot to install his bug fix."
Hal floats by, arm cannon glowing. "Eat laser, boneface!"
And me?
I fly.
Wings blazing. Magic singing. Sword Ignis burning hot with pure phoenix wrath.
I dive.
"You picked the wrong chaos wizard to stab, @$$hole!"
I crash into Doomsday like a meteor on vengeance. My blade slams into his chest, right where J'onn ripped open a hole.
CRACK.
He stumbles.
Kal follows with heat vision straight into the wound.
Kori and Kara blast his back, pushing him forward.
Hal chains his legs in green light.
Diana? Diana rams her shield into his face like it's a battering ram made of Olympus.
And I push Ignis deeper—straight into the hate-center.
Doomsday screams.
And explodes.
Bone. Dust. Cosmic salsa. Everywhere.
Silence.
Then—
Barry, voice dry as burnt toast: "So... milkshakes?"
We laugh.
But I know better.
Doomsday never stays dead. He'll be back. Stronger. Immune to this exact attack.
—
Sure! Here's a rewritten version of your scene in Harry's first-person POV, fully embracing Rick Riordan's style—complete with banter, pop culture references, fourth-wall-breaking humor, intense chemistry, and epic action. Everyone sounds like their actors too, as requested.
Chapter Title: Petrify and Conquer (or: How to Stare a Murder Rock to Death Without Actually Killing Him)
You know that moment in a video game when you beat the boss, and the screen starts fading to black and you're all, "Nice, I did it," and then the boss's health bar twitches back to life like, "Sup, round two"?
Yeah. That.
The dust cloud that used to be Doomsday quivers. Then pulses. Then, with a sound like God sneezed into a rock concert, it rebuilds itself. Stone chunks fuse like they missed each other. Spikes grow. Muscles flex. Gravity looks personally offended.
Hal groans like he just found out Taco Tuesday was canceled. "We literally turned him into bone confetti!"
"He evolves," Kara says grimly, floating beside me like a vengeful Valkyrie with a steel spine and cheekbones that could cut glass. "He always evolves."
"Like a Pokémon," Barry mutters, zipping beside us. "Except nobody wants to catch this one."
Kal—aka Big Blue Hope Bringer, aka Superman, aka My Other Dad—exhales through his teeth. "He'll be immune to everything we just threw at him."
And yeah. That's the thing about Doomsday. You kill him once, he comes back like a zombie Terminator with cheat codes—immune to whatever took him out the first time.
And now?
Now he's bigger. Meaner. Spikier.
His roar vibrates my skeleton. It's less a scream and more a planetary cough—like the Earth's about to suplex us all.
Then he looks around, eyes glowing like molten hate—and locks onto me.
Of course he does.
"Great," I mutter. "What is it with murder monsters and me being their final boss?"
I crack my neck. My phoenix-forged armor shimmers crimson and gold around me, wings flaring wide behind my shoulders. I probably look cool. Probably. I mean, Kara's watching with her My Boyfriend Is About To Do Something Reckless and Hot Again expression, so... yeah. Definitely cool.
"Plan A: Big boom-boom," I say. "Plan B: I stab, Kal zaps, Diana smashes. Plan C...?"
"I might have something," I say slowly.
Everyone turns. Even Doomsday pauses, which is both flattering and horrifying.
Kori floats closer, orange skin radiant, her emerald eyes locked on mine with a mix of awe and mischief. "You have that look again," she says in her voice that's equal parts royalty and rock concert. "The chaos wizard look."
I grin. "I am the chaos wizard."
Diana raises a single, majestic eyebrow. Warrior Goddess-style. "Speak quickly, Harry."
I inhale. "Okay. So. Fun fact: you remember that whole 'Basilisk gene' thing I've got running through my blood like magical nitroglycerin? Turns out I inherited the Stare."
"Capital S?" Flash asks.
"Capital Murder S," I confirm. "If I look someone in the eyes with intent to kill—boom. Statue. No counterspell. No saves. Just full Medusa-mode. But without the snake hair. Or the Greek tragedy."
Hal blinks. "So you've got death eyes? Like Evil Eye 2.0?"
"Exactly," I nod. "Except less 'turn to stone,' more 'your soul just got hit with a Windows blue screen.'"
Barry raises a hand. "So why don't you just give Doomsday the ol' Basilisk Eye Mojo and call it a day?"
"Because," Kara says sharply, brushing against my side like she can't not be near me (which, honestly, mood), "he resurrects. If he dies to the Basilisk Stare, he'll come back immune."
"Oh," Barry says, deflating like a sad balloon. "That's... wildly unfair."
"It always is," Kal mutters. He looks like he's already planning Plan D through Z.
I keep going. "So we can't kill him. But we can petrify him. Temporarily. If he sees my eyes—but not directly—I can give him the stone effect without triggering a full system shutdown."
There's a beat of silence.
Then the comms crackle.
Batman's voice cuts in, dry as desert toast. "Reflected gaze. Mirror angles. Make him see you, but not directly."
"Brucie," I say, grinning. "You emotionally-repressed tactical genius."
"I'm sending coordinates." Classic Bale-Batman. Already calculated five mirror angles and their insurance premiums. "You'll draw him into the plaza. There's mirrored glass at 47° elevation on the east tower. Hal, you keep him centered. Kara and Kori, distract him. Flash, clear civilians. J'onn, confirm mental readiness. Tia—"
"Already reinforcing the plaza," comes Tia's voice—low, honeyed, and about one octave south of dangerously hot. "And making sure your pretty face doesn't get smashed, love."
"Protect my son," Diana says firmly, her voice edged in steel and maternal murder vibes.
"Always," Tia, Kara, and Kori say in unison.
If I didn't already love them, that would've done it.
We move.
—
Doomsday stomps into the plaza like Godzilla just rage-quit therapy and decided to ruin everyone's Tuesday. He's bigger now. Bulkier. Like someone fed him protein shakes, rage, and construction equipment.
His spikes catch the sunlight like murder jewelry. His glowing red eyes sweep the battlefield, blazing with the pure joy of punching things until they stop moving. And that snarl? That's the sound of a monster who just learned Firefly got canceled again.
Hal Jordan zips through the sky, weaving emerald chains with his ring. "Hey, you giant rage carrot! I'm over here! Come get your salad!"
Kara's already in position, hovering above the tower with her blonde hair catching the wind, looking like a teenage demigoddess who just decided violence is the answer. She's got that glint in her eye—fierce, a little reckless, a lot hot.
"C'mon, big guy!" she yells, blasting Doomsday with concentrated solar energy. "I'm the one who punched your jaw off three fights ago!"
Kori floats beside her, fire in her hands and fire in her hair, all radiant fury and heart-thumping beauty. "Yes! Burn for me, beast!" she cries, voice like a symphony and a warning.
Tia—Galatea—hammers the ground with a shockwave from her fists, sending debris flying. She's a blonde bombshell if blonde bombshells had been built in a lab for destruction and slow-motion hair flips. "He is not touching Harry," she growls.
And me?
I'm floating just outside his vision, wings flared behind me like a demon-angel hybrid rejected from both Heaven and Hell for being too dramatic. My eyes are closed, glowing golden behind the lids.
Batman's voice is ice and logic in my ear, his voice full of calm menace. "Five seconds. Engage visual. Now."
I open my eyes.
Slitted pupils. Liquid gold. Magic older than history. Older than fear. My Basilisk Stare pulses with ancient power, and it floods the mirrored glass from the east tower—angled perfectly thanks to Batmath.
The light reflects. Refracts. Multiplies.
Doomsday sees me. Not directly.
Indirectly.
And he stops.
Mid-growl. Mid-step. His rage dims like someone unplugged it. The air stills. The world tilts.
Stone creeps over his skin, slow and final, like the universe just decided: "Nah, you're done."
Cracks spread—not like a shattering plate, but like marble under the chisel of fate. He's becoming sculpture. Murdery, spiky sculpture, but still.
Frozen.
Almost.
Because of course the bastard has to have one last spiteful twitch.
His arm jerks. A final muscle memory. And a spike—long, jagged, gleaming like a death promise forged in hate—drives forward and hits me.
Right in the chest.
The pain is instant. Nuclear. My brain blue-screens.
No quips. No comebacks. Just... hurt.
Somewhere, someone screams my name. Kara, probably. Or Tia. Or Kori. Maybe all three. I'm popular like that.
But I don't blink. I don't flinch.
I stare.
And Doomsday completes his transformation into art. Immobile. Unkillable. Unmoving.
I fall.
Wind rushes past me. My wings limp. Blood hot and thick.
Kara catches me first.
"Got you," she says, voice shaking. "You reckless, infuriating, stupidly hot man."
"Told you," I rasp. "Chaos wizard."
Kori's next, hovering beside us, her hands glowing as she channels radiant healing light into me. "Do not die. I forbid it."
"Wouldn't dream of it," I whisper. "Not before that moonlit date we talked about."
Tia lands hard enough to crack pavement, storming over. Her eyes glow like a goddess in a bad mood. "I leave you alone for five seconds—"
"—and I get stabbed by a rocky porcupine," I finish. "Classic me."
She grabs my hand. Holds it tight.
Kal lands behind them, grim-faced, cape billowing like it knows it's in a dramatic scene. "We'll get you stabilized. You did it, Harry."
"No," I mutter, trying to keep my eyes open as the pain turns the world blurry. "We bought time. That's all. Doomsday'll come back. He always does."
Diana kneels beside me, brushing hair from my forehead, her face softer than I've ever seen it. "Then we'll be ready. Next time, we face him together."
"And I," Batman's voice cuts in, "will bring mirrors. Lots of mirrors."
Despite everything, I laugh. Or maybe wheeze. It's hard to tell.
But I'm alive.
And Doomsday? He's a lawn ornament.
For now.
---
Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord (HHHwRsB6wd) server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Can't wait to see you there!