Chapter 6 : Vartox
December 2015 — DEO Command Center — Three Days Later
The axe was beautiful.
I didn't want to admit it, but there was something almost elegant about the weapon that had crashed through a chemical plant's containment wall that morning. Alien metallurgy, energy core still pulsing faintly beneath the surface, blade sharp enough to split molecules.
And my powers are screaming.
I kept my hands still on the analysis table, fighting the urge to touch the thing. My electromagnetic sense had been going haywire since they'd brought it in—the axe radiated frequencies I'd never felt before, overlapping signals that made my teeth ache.
"Preliminary analysis shows unknown alloy composition." The tech beside me was droning from a tablet. "Energy signature doesn't match anything in our database. Thermal imaging suggests—"
"The core is unstable."
Everyone turned. Henshaw stepped forward, eyes sharp.
"Explain."
I pointed at the central junction where handle met blade. "The energy readings are fluctuating. See this pattern? It's oscillating on a declining curve. Whatever powers this thing is degrading—probably from the crash impact."
"How do you know that?"
Because I can feel it pulsing like a dying heartbeat.
"Physics." I pulled up a frequency analysis on the nearby monitor. "The harmonics are off. A stable power source would maintain consistent output. This is losing cohesion."
Henshaw studied the screen, then the axe, then me.
"We've had this weapon for four hours. Our best analysts haven't made that connection."
"Your best analysts don't do overtime shifts at CatCo." I kept my voice light. "You learn to work fast when Cat Grant's breathing down your neck."
Alex snorted from across the room. She'd been warmer toward me since the drive back—not friendly, exactly, but less hostile. I'd take it.
"If the core is unstable," she said, "that's a vulnerability. Heat applied to the right point could trigger cascade failure."
"Which means Supergirl can destroy it." I nodded. "Exactly."
Henshaw was still watching me with that unreadable expression. Something about him felt wrong—not malicious, just out of place. My electromagnetic sense kept pinging whenever he moved, like there was interference around him that shouldn't exist.
Problem for another day.
"Where's Vartox now?" I asked.
"Holding position near the rail yards. He's waiting for something—probably more weapons, possibly reinforcements." Alex pulled up a map. "We need to hit him before that happens."
"Then let's stop strategizing and start moving."
Kara's voice came through the command center doors. She was suited up, cape flowing, jaw set with determination that looked almost aggressive. The last few days had been hard on her—training sessions, briefings, learning just how many things wanted her dead.
She was handling it. Barely.
"You're sure about this?" I asked quietly as she passed.
"He attacked a populated area. People could have died." Her hands clenched at her sides. "I'm sure."
"Then here." I pressed an earpiece into her palm. "Modified from the original. Longer range, encrypted band, and I'll be patched into the DEO feeds."
She smiled—small, but real. "Thanks, Winn."
"Go get him, Supergirl."
National City Rail Yards — Thirty Minutes Later
The command center was chaos.
Three screens showed satellite feeds. Two more tracked energy signatures. Agents barked coordinates, adjusted readings, monitored civilian evacuation efforts. And I sat at a borrowed terminal, headset on, watching Kara's bodycam footage as she descended toward the rail yards.
"Visual confirmed." Her voice crackled through the comms. "One target, big and ugly. He's... monologuing. Something about Krypton's sins."
"Let him talk. I'm analyzing his movement patterns."
Vartox was massive—seven feet of muscle and alien biology, built like a linebacker crossed with a tank. He swung a replacement weapon (where had he gotten that?) in lazy circles, waiting for his prey.
Pattern recognition. Look for the tells.
"He favors his left side," I said. "See how he plants before each swing? That's a wind-up. When he shifts weight to the left foot, he's about to commit to the attack."
"So I go right."
"Exactly. And watch the secondary weapon—there's a blade strapped to his forearm. Close-quarters backup."
"How can you tell?"
"Because he keeps adjusting his sleeve. Force of habit."
Kara laughed despite the situation. "You're good at this."
"I watch a lot of film."
She dropped from the sky like a meteor.
The fight was brutal.
Vartox was faster than he looked, stronger than his profile suggested. His first swing came within inches of Kara's head; she dodged only because she'd listened to my warning about the wind-up. The follow-through clipped her shoulder, spinning her sideways.
"Left! He's resetting left!"
She adjusted, ducked the backhand, and drove a punch into his solar plexus that would have cratered a building. Vartox barely grunted.
"His pain threshold is absurd," I muttered. "Switch tactics. Stop trying to hurt him—disable the weapon."
"The weapon?"
"It's the only thing giving him reach. Take that away, you can close the distance."
"The axe won't break. I already tried."
"Don't break it. Disarm him."
She processed this for half a second, then changed approach. Instead of blocking the next swing, she caught the haft just below the blade. Metal screamed against Kryptonian grip. Vartox's eyes widened.
Then Kara twisted.
The axe ripped free, spinning across the rail yard to embed itself in a freight car. Vartox stumbled, suddenly weaponless, and Kara didn't give him time to recover.
Three punches. A kick that would have launched a normal man into orbit. An uppercut that snapped his head back with an audible crack.
He fell.
"Target down," Kara reported, breathing hard. "DEO teams can move in for containment."
The command center erupted in cheers. Alex was already coordinating the cleanup, agents scrambling to secure the site before any civilians wandered into the mess.
I sat back in my chair and let myself exhale.
First real test. Passed.
DEO Command Center — One Hour Later
Henshaw found me at the analysis station.
"Impressive work today, Mr. Schott."
I looked up from the tablet I'd been pretending to read. "Just pattern recognition. Anyone could have done it."
"No. They couldn't." He studied me with those too-sharp eyes. "You predicted his movements before he made them. You identified the weapon vulnerability in hours when our team missed it for days. That's not normal."
Careful.
"I'm good with data. Always have been."
"Mm." He didn't sound convinced. "Keep up the good work."
He walked away. My electromagnetic sense buzzed in his wake, that strange interference stronger than before.
J'onn J'onzz. The name surfaced from buried memories. The Martian Manhunter, hiding in plain sight.
Another problem for another day.
Alex approached as Henshaw disappeared around a corner.
"Hey."
"Hey."
She leaned against the station, arms crossed, expression unreadable. "How did you really know all that stuff? About Vartox, the axe, his fighting patterns?"
"Physics. Pattern recognition. MIT education."
"Bullshit."
I met her gaze. "Excuse me?"
"You're hiding something." She held up a hand before I could protest. "I'm not accusing you. Everyone hides something. But whatever it is... just don't let it hurt my sister."
"I would never—"
"I know." Her expression softened a fraction. "That's the only reason you're still breathing. But I'm watching you, Winn Schott. Remember that."
She walked away.
I sat in the empty command center, surrounded by alien tech and government secrets, and thought about everything I couldn't tell her.
J'onn knows something's off. Alex suspects something's off. How long until Kara starts asking questions I can't answer?
The door burst open. Kara strode in, suit scorched, grin enormous.
"We did it!"
She grabbed me in a hug that lifted me off the ground. My ribs protested; I didn't care.
"You were amazing," I said when she put me down. "That disarm move was perfect."
"I couldn't have done it without you. Seriously, Winn—you saved my life today."
"That's the job."
"No." She shook her head, still smiling. "That's us. We make a good team."
We really do.
"The best," I agreed.
Behind us, screens flickered with data about Fort Rozz escapees still at large. Dozens of threats still out there, waiting to test National City's new hero.
But for now, in this moment, we'd won.
That was enough.
Author's Note / Promotion:
Your Reviews and Power Stones are the best way to show support. They help me know what you're enjoying and bring in new readers!
You don't have to. Get instant access to more content by supporting me on Patreon. I have three options so you can pick how far ahead you want to be:
🪙 Silver Tier ($6): Read 10 chapters ahead of the public site.
👑 Gold Tier ($9): Get 15-20 chapters ahead of the public site.
💎 Platinum Tier ($15): The ultimate experience. Get new chapters the second I finish them . No waiting for weekly drops, just pure, instant access.
Your support helps me write more .
👉 Find it all at patreon.com/fanficwriter1