Arrival
On her third summer in America, a Bermudian girl finds herself distressed. Her flight was delayed, her aunt is missing, and uncoincidentally, the building the same woman works in is burning. With the weight of the year prior, she rushes into Cadmus in hopes of finding this woman—she is, after all, the girl's only ticket to freedom for these short months. But upon encountering three boys—the League's rebellious sidekicks—she begins to realize that Cadmus is not everything it claims to be. In fact, the world is not what it claims to be. And with another proposition in front of her, she will soon accept that she is not what she claims to be either.
A girl stands in the customs area of the DC Airport. She's been staring at the ceramic tiling for some time now, taking in how the overhead lights cascade upon it and leave blurs of white around her feet. It's the only thing keeping her calm in a moment like this.
And this girl—this fairly tall girl—shares the dark skin and brown eyes of many of her Bermudian kindred. Her hair is braided, cropped in style with a rarity of copper-toned rings. Every so often, she glances at the man before her but not before adjusting a rogue braid from her face.
"Name?" The customs officer asks. He doesn't make eye contact—too busy staring at her passport, eyes narrow as he skims over it. She already prepared herself for the worst.
"Novia Nelson Spence," She exhales, now wondering why she even needed to include her middle name in the first place. But isn't it hyphenated on her passport? She's pretty certain it is. Though, it isn't on her ID. Will he notice? Will it show up on—
"Where are you coming from Miss Spence?"
"Bermuda," Novia says. A bit too quickly for her liking. His raised brow makes her suspect it was too quick for his as well. She feels a chill through her. She doesn't like the fact that he referred to her as "Miss" as if he actually respects her.
The customs officer looks down at her passport again. He makes no effort to hide his skepticism, "… did you dye your hair?"
She laughs—more of a breathy smile than an actual laugh—and she runs a hand through her cropped braids out of nervous habit. It's a question that she ought to be used to by now. The truth is that she never got good at explaining it. Does she start from the beginning? Or just outright lie as her mother told her? Some people are smart enough to know it's not a case of poliosis. And she suspects this officer is one of those people.
"Well… my hair is black," Of course it is, he can see that Novia, "But—"
"Age?" His voice cuts through her own with complete disinterest. A part of her is grateful for that but the coming irritation can't be helped.
"Fifteen,"
"Unaccompanied minor," He notes. Whether to himself or to her, Novia can't determine. But if a face already solemn can grow even more solemn, well, his just did, "Where's your gate escort?"
"My flight arrived late, and no one was at the gate waiting for me," Novia explains, recalling how empty the airport was as she walked to customs. No doubt her flight was one of the last arrivals.
The officer shakes his head, cursing beneath his breath before he calls someone on his pager. "Reason for visitation?" He continues, now looking at her boarding pass.
"Vacation—I'm visiting my aunt for the summer and will be returning in September," She responds. Another officer approaches his desk. A man with tan skin and sleek black hair. His expression is more welcoming, grinning as he waits patiently for his partner to run the remaining list of questions.
The customs officer behind the desk nods to the man and looks back at Novia, "This is Officer Mateo. He will escort you to pick-up and wait with you until your guardian arrives,"
Novia looks to Mateo warily. He seems nice enough. The customs officer hands back her documents and as she reaches for them, he withdraws. "And get your photo updated," He adds. His face is no longer solemn—but not welcoming like Mateo's. It's indifferent.
"Will do," Novia nods with a small smile. She gathers her things and leaves with Mateo.
Now night, the airport is significantly silent. All that's left is the remaining departures—delayed flights like hers included—and wandering travelers. A few linger in the halls, chatting and sorting through their things. Others make their way to the pickup area, the crisp sound of their luggage wheels rolling along ceramic tiles fills the air. Small convenience stores and food vendors remain closed for the night, their entrances barred off and locked shut.
Mateo tries to hold a conversation with her, make her feel comfortable in an otherwise desolate building. But she is anxious, having checked her phone twice—four times, if she includes the other two before arriving at customs—but she sees no missed calls from her Aunt Amanda.
"Are you excited for Independence Day?" Mateo asks when nothing else gathers her attention. The words only do because the question strikes her as odd.
"What is there to be excited about if the day is over?" Novia asks. Her eyes focus on her phone, expecting a call any second.
Mateo raises a finger, grinning, "Night is when the festivities begin. Y'know—fireworks, sparklers, the whole shebang."
Maybe if she was a younger, more naïve Novia, she'd smile widely at the thought of fireworks. Hell, even at this age, she'd be excited to see fireworks after a severely delayed flight. But she can't even muster a smile—only a hmm of confirmation emits from her lips, attention now fully on her phone.
They stand at the pick-up area for a while with Novia calling her aunt to no avail and Mateo occasionally asking if everything's alright. She lies—doesn't know why, but she does. And he accepts it with clear skepticism.
Every visitor passing by to push through glass doors leaves her with a drop of envy, wishing that it was her that was leaving.
She's also faced with irritation—not from Mateo, surprisingly his concern doesn't bother her, but the glass walls around her do. Her skin reacts to its presence, twitching from the abundance of it. And normally, the feeling wouldn't register to her. But toppled with anxiety from her unresponsive aunt, it all becomes unassailable.
Overhead, the TV screens flash a banner of breaking news. It opens up to a reporter standing in the night before a line of yellow tape. Behind her is a large building, office-like in structure, but burning with billows of smoke rising to the midnight blue sky.
"Thanks for standing by. We're back at Cadmus Labs. First responders have just arrived and are doing their best to tame the fire. Authorities are saying it started on the ground le—"
"I need to use the restroom," Novia blurts after finding her voice. She does her best to steady her breathing and—most importantly—take her focus off the glass windows around them.
Mateo turns to her, brow raised, "Oh, okay. Did you wanna leave your bag or—"
"Nope. Need it. Be right back," She fumbles with her words and rushes to the women's restroom.
Pacing down the stalls, she delves into her thoughts. The silence of the restroom—the absolute vacancy she senses—only brings an inkling of peace. The rest of her rattled on the chance that her aunt, Amanda Spence, is in Cadmus—burning Cadmus—and likely...
Her hands slam onto the counter. The mirrors and overhead lights tremble.
Do not jump to conclusions.
Her aunt is fine—on her way to the airport this very instant. Her phone is likely in her purse. Silenced. Or even off. Maybe a low battery. She'll be here any minute. But for now—
For now—
The mirrors sigh, cracks forming along its edges. Novia feels her chest rising and falling with each breath, heavy intakes leading to even heavier outputs. Her hand raises up to trace her forehead. A sudden throb that trails along her left cheek forces her to face her own reflection.
She stumbles back, blinking. From the mere glimpse of the mirror, she swears she saw a pair of green eyes looking back at her—a face regarding her with momentary interest. And beneath the crawling of her skin, there was a coarseness accompanying it. As though a hand had brushed against her arm, trailing down as it searches for her hand. She swallows the notion, reminding herself it's impossible but her caution doesn't fade.
"It's not real," she whispers, repeating those three words to the trepid girl in the mirror—herself—before grabbing her knapsack and leaving.
Mateo stands by the glass walls of the pick-up area with his hands in his pockets. It's evident in how he surveys the outside that he's been looking out for anyone that seems related to Novia. She can't help but pity him, now fully assured that her aunt won't come for her.
Outside she sees a line of taxis. Their drivers stand in a circle, smoking and chatting. One of them leaves with a nod and a flick of their cigarette before returning to his taxi. He sits in his vehicle, looking down at the light of his phone. Novia looks to Mateo, then back to the group of men laughing and chatting.
"This must be boring for you," She states, her eyes focus on their dimmed reflection.
Mateo shrugs, "I've nothing better to do. Besides your guardian should be here any moment now,"
"I doubt it," She admits, clutching the straps of her knapsack tightly. The comment earns her a look from Mateo. Her focus shifts to her left leg, feeling it become stiff upon command. She shakes her head, "And I'm so sorry,"
Mateo raises a brow, nervously smiling, "For wh—"
Novia stomps on his foot then dashes towards the door. A run that is at first a scamper because the leg she used on him is heavy, extremely dense, and—well—glass. The automatic doors open and she's engulfed with the city heat. She glances back to seeing Mateo clutch his foot which she hopes isn't broken.
She makes a beeline for the lone taxi with the newfound speed of a recovered leg. The relief she feels when she jumps into the vehicle is momentary. Now met with a shocked driver who dropped his phone upon her intrusion and a vehicle that reeks of tobacco.
"What the hell?!"
"That man is after me!" Novia cries, pointing to a limping Mateo who, in the dark, can register as any other strange man rather than an officer. The driver only needs to only look in the direction before he is shaken by urgency. He veers out of the airport without another word. Novia looks back, hearing Mateo shout at the vehicle only to be drowned out by the sound of tires.
The taxi joins the main highway in a matter of minutes. Though it is silent, Novia never settles. Sitting upright in the seat directly behind the driver, her left hand remains on the door handle and the right clutches her knapsack against her chest. In her peripheral, she feels the man look at her through the rearview mirror every so often. She figures the entire ride will be this way until they reach the inner city.
"Why was that guy chasing you?" The man asks when they stop at a light.
Novia doesn't respond. Her eyes focus on the window and the shadows beyond it.
"Look, kid. If you want to file a police report, you need to get your story straight,"
"He was my gate escort," she states, tense with guilt.
"Shit," The driver drops his head onto his wheel, turning to her, "You trynna get me arrested for abduction!?" He exclaims, visibly irate.
Novia raises her hands, "No! I-I just—" she inhales, "Just—can you please take me to Cadmus? I have a family member that works there and—"
"The place is on fire. Whoever you know that works there is likely gone." The driver says, shrugging.
"You don't know that," Novia grits her teeth, feeling her conscience linger in the windows. She knows better than to let this happen. So, she closes her eyes, counting before giving a deep breath, "Please. I need to see for myself. If you take me, I'll be out of your hair."
The last part she adds on a whim and it's likely the part that makes the driver grumble, "Fine,"
She saw the smoke rolling towards the sky even before they near Cadmus. And when they reach its premises, the embers become visible as well, red sparks jumping above the dancing fire. The taxi driver can only get so close to the building. He stops at one of Cadmus' parking lots, every other part of the building is barred off by yellow tape.
"Thanks," Novia tells him, shuffling through her bag for some money.
The man waves her off just as she retrieves her wallet, "Can't take it. Just find your relative and stay safe."
Novia doesn't protest the kind gesture. Although, she does feel bad for putting him through so much. The best she could do, she figures, is keep her word and get out of his hair.
So she leaves for Cadmus, stepping over the yellow tape with some difficulty. And she should find it unsurprising that as soon as she stumbles onto the restricted premises, someone shouts, "Hey!"
A fireman. Great. Novia huffs, now dashing towards the building. The man, although garnered in heavy equipment is somehow able to keep pace—which doesn't bode well for her at all.
"This isn't a playground for kids!" he calls after her.
Without a second thought, she chucks her bag at the man. Feeling her rapid heartbeat, she sends her body to stiffen. It begins to shine against the light of the fire—the heat itself, she can hardly feel. Finally, her skin loses its deep brown complexion, falling completely transparent. Her clothes—her favorite jeans and tee—slip from the decreasing traction.
She becomes pure glass. The fireman watches, wide-eyed with disbelief, as she shatters into hundreds of shards that drift into the air and seep through the blown-out windows.
Novia reassembles into her glass form, looking at her hands in relief. "Still got it," she breathes.
"Still got what?"
She shatters and realigns inches away from the voice she heard. Before her, stands a redhead in a yellow and red costume with a symbol of a lightning bolt on his chest. His hands rest on his hips and his smirk is deep enough to be expressed through his green eyes.
Another boy runs towards them, this one is a tall, shaven blond with a dark complexion, "Kid, there was someone—" He halts upon seeing Novia. His seafoam green eyes flick between her and the other boy with apparent confusion.
Novia returns the stare, noting specifically the gills on his neck and the markings on his arms. Tattoos, perhaps. She averts her gaze under the pretense that she's being intrusive. But she's seen enough to deduce that he's Atlantean. A bit familiar as well. His redheaded partner rings some bells too but—
"And you guys rag on me for running off?" Someone else says teasingly.
Another boy.
Just how many kids are there in this building? Novia wonders.
This one is gracile and notably the shortest of the three. His hair is black, and he wears a red and black costume with a belt around his waist and a dark cape draped over his shoulders. His eyes are the only ones to be obscured by his mask. On his chest is an R.
Novia knows him. She knows all three of them. The R, the lightning bolt, the Atlantean symbol—
"You guys are the Justice League's sidekicks," she breathes. Specifically, Robin, Kid Flash and Aqualad.
"Ouch, there goes that word again," Kid Flash groans.
Robin crosses his arms, "And you are…?"
"That's what I was finding out before you two interrupted," Kid Flash disappears, suddenly reappearing beside Novia with a rush of air. He takes her arm and examines it, "So what are you? Superhero? Vigilante?" he smirks, "Villainess?"
"Novia," she snatches her arm from him, "And where are your mentors?" She asks, looking around for Batman, Aquaman, and The Flash.
"We're capable of doing our own missions," Robin dismisses with a bitterness that Novia feels is unwarranted.
"How did you get in here?" Aqualad asks.
Kid Flash snickers, "The chick is made of crystal and you're asking how she got here?"
Novia huffs, pushing past them, "I'm made of glass. And I don't have time for this. I need to find my aunt. She works here and she hasn't been answering my calls all night."
"Well, hate to break it to you Crystal Girl but this place has been evacuated already," Kid Flash's call makes her stop dead in her tracks.
Aqualad shakes his head, "Perhaps not everyone has been evacuated. Earlier, I saw someone take the elevator."
"They should be shut down," Kid Flash points out, "Fire—remember?"
"Guess again. Looks like elevators are fully operational," Robin says, holding up his wrist. A blue light jumps out to reveal a grid of some sort. Novia squints, unable to read the strings words and images of—doors?
No. They're elevators.
"This doesn't make sense," he murmurs, moving closer to the elevator in question. "Why is a high-speed express elevator in a two-story building?"
Novia frowns, slightly confused by the question because the answer is so simple. It's Cadmus. They have an express elevator because they can afford one. But… maybe it's not that simple. Robin's tone says that much. And it's the reason why she doesn't say anything out loud.
Aqualad moves past her, pushing his hands into the elevator and prying it apart with a strained grunt.
"Wai—" Novia blurts. A little too late as the doors are already open, completely dented.
They all peer down. Beneath, is darkness lined with strips of lights. It continues down for floors on end. An abyssal drop. One that she was never aware of.
Novia staggers back, "This can't be real,"
"Well, believe it," Robin states. He shoots a cord at the top, "Wait here. Powers or not, you're inexperienced and will only get in the way,"
"Excuse me?!" Before Novia can finish her retort, Robin leaps down the cord. Kid Flash takes the cord after him, winking at her before jumping.
"Rude much?!" She yells down at the abyss. Her own echo responding in return.
Aqualad places a hand on her shoulder, "Robin is right. There is no telling what lies on the secret floors,"
Novia crosses her arms, "So you're agreeing that I'll just get in your way?"
The question visibly throws him off guard, "I never said—"
"You might as well,"
Aqualad sighs, defeated. He takes the cord, "We shall see to your aunt's safety," He assures before disappearing after his friends.
She rolls her eyes, though she's not truly upset with him. She's more frustrated with herself. For three summers she has visited Cadmus. Each aspect of this building, from its offices to its lights, is familiar to her. And all it took was one night to contort that perception.
So she stands here, faced with the possibility that the Cadmus she knew has always been a lie.
§ § §
It's not impossible to tell the time. There are clocks everywhere. Digital, analog—the real issue is she can't remember when she reached Cadmus in the first place. So, she doesn't know exactly how long she's been waiting, but she's pretty certain that those sidekicks have been gone for over an hour.
In the meantime, she's been perusing through staff desks, stopping once she reaches Amanda's. Her's is empty, unsurprisingly—not cluttered with papers like her colleagues.' Everything is neatly tucked away in the file cabinets. Locked to keep intruders out. The only thing on her desk is a large planner mat and a framed picture of a woman holding a girl's hand before a water fountain.
The photo is in color, not too old but still outdated and washed out like any other polaroid. Novia recognizes the little girl as her aunt. She shares the woman's gentle demeanor and soft brown eyes.
The woman beside her, Novia has never met before. It can't be her maternal grandmother. She was never this slender nor does the woman have any physical features akin to her. Yet she smiles at Novia—at the camera—with gentle familiarity.
She sets the portrait down. The wind she feels from the building amounting with an eerie silence tells her that the firefighters have finished tending to the fires. Not much of the building seems to be worn from it. It still stands straight if anything.
Though it's strange. In her years of visiting Cadmus, the lab is never the one to be this careless. It's hard to believe they would allow a fire to spread from the bottom floor. They typically take extra precautions—never once had they even allowed 12-year-old Novia to look at labs without her aunt's supervision.
The one time she did explore without her aunt breathing down her neck is a not too pleasant memory. She had only ventured as far as a lab's entrance before she is stopped by a doctor. He was a middle-aged man with his shaggy brown hair pulled into a ponytail. He wore glasses like many of the scientists. Her aunt had often made small remarks to her about this man, Dr. Desmond, in particular. He was the lead scientist, yet he opted to wear sandals on the job. (Which is apparently a hazard.)
He yelled at her that day. And every time he saw her, he would watch her with immovable rancor. They never spoke since then but she kept his name in mind just in case as she was under the pretense that he was out to get her. Novia belatedly wonders whatever became of him—part of her hoping with little guilt that the fire sought his end.
She glances at the elevator door, still pried open to the abyss. The boys' voices echo through her head:
Wait here.
This is your best option.
There is no telling what lies on the secret floors.
But doesn't she deserve to know? And after all these years… what could Amanda—Cadmus—be hiding?
She moves towards the elevator.
"Alright, Novia. They're not coming back. You're going to have to find your aunt by yourself,"
The words bring little comfort as she's faced with gaping darkness. She curses to herself—too afraid to descend by the cord—and shatters. An alarming throb reverberates through her shards as they follow Robin's cord. It stops at sublevel twenty-six where the elevator door is already pulled open in the same fashion.
Her shards snap together as soon as they touch the floor, quivering its need to revert back to flesh and bone. Novia chokes, clenching her fist as she rights herself.
Sublevel twenty-six is nothing more than a hallway with steel-plated walls. Heavily armored, even for a lab. But why?
The overhead lights are lowly lit, red-tinted, and oddly calming. But the noises she hears in the distance keep her alerted. Muttering—no. Growling. Screeching. Likely a mixture of both. Whatever it is, it's not English.
Novia peeks from behind the wall. Her eyes widen and she immediately wishes she waited on the ground floor for the sidekicks.
What she sees is otherworldly—unnatural. And what can she call these things? Demons? Monsters?
None of those words feel sufficient.
Diverse in size and shape, the creatures all share a disturbing shade of red in the eyes which hints to Novia that they are related in some way. Their sizes range from miniature to gargantuan—the large ones, of course, intimidate her the most. Their skin—what may be their skin—is monochromatic, tones of gray which bring forth horns that protrude from jaws, back, and head.
Among them is a man. Novia squints. No, it's not a man but a creature that stands like one. Its skin is bluish, and it wears a white hospital patient-like attire. And it too has horns—Novia can see them even though it stands with its back to her.
This is wrong, she thinks. Cadmus is definitely doing more than the genetic modifications her aunt would tell her about. Because these things that she is seeing cannot be a member of any species known to man.
It's still genetic engineering. But the most extreme sense of it.
This cannot be good.
The standing creature—the blue one—suddenly turns in her direction. And the things around it do the same. Novia jumps, faced with over a dozen pairs of red eyes. Then she staggers, slowed by a sudden wave in her head, something she never thought she'd feel in her vitrified state. But it's like a thread, quivering into her skull. A connection.
You must hurry. Your friends and Kr are in trouble.
What she hears isn't her own conscience. This voice is monotonous, drawn-out but she can sense the intended urgency. And... friends? She can protest otherwise. But Kr? She doesn't know what to make of it—or them.
Her eyes fall upon the bluish creature, its horns had glowed red at the moment. Then it gestures to her. Behind her.
Take the elevator to sublevel fifty-two. Hurry before Desmond begins the cloning process.
Desmond. She feels sick at the mere mention of the man. But cloning process?
"What—"
She grunts feeling her chest tighten, beating upon the thaw of her heart, her form wearing back into flesh. Her body grows sensitive to the drop in temperatures around her.
She rushes towards the elevator. Its doors open and, on the ground, lies a folded cloth. A white hospital attire clearly fitted for a man. But it will suffice. She glances back at the creatures, the bluish one in particular.
Thank you. She thinks, hoping it can hear. She's not used to conversing with her thoughts. And as the doors close, she hears nothing but feels a presence leave her in faint appreciation.
Novia pulls on the attire to find that it covers her knees perfectly. However, she wishes it came with shoes since the floor of the elevator is astonishingly cold. But to complain now is pointless.
The elevator is fast—no surprise there—and the floor indicator moves fast as well, seeming to skip some numbers in the process. Novia barely gets the time to hash out a plan before she reaches sublevel fifty-two.
"Fuck…" she murmurs when the doors open to reveal an enteric layout. A deep red, pulsing expanse as though it is alive. She wouldn't laugh if someone told her that Cadmus is an actual beast and sublevel fifty-two is its stomach.
Novia steps out, winces when she feels it squelch beneath her feet. She takes it back. She does need shoes. But at least the floor is warm—albeit disgustingly warm.
Keeping on the balls of her feet, Novia slinks over to the adjacent wall. She hovers, not wanting to touch it, and peeps down the hallway. It splits into two halls from here. On her right, she hears more activity. Grinding beneath a buzz of electricity.
Oh great. More of these guys.
One of the gargantuan creatures holds up a large steel door whilst a smaller one welds the base. Overseeing them is a tall man—this one certainly human. His get-up is strange, however. He wears a golden helmet and a navy-blue jumpsuit—nothing about it says geneticist much less, scientist.
So maybe a bodyguard? But the giant creatures seem lethal enough.
Her eyes fall back to the door. It's slightly obscured by the giant's arms, but she can make out a red lowercase "r" printed on it. No doubt the "K" is there somewhere too.
So, Kr must be a project, she presumes, frowning. Probably like one of those things.
She can't recall her aunt ever mentioning Kr either. But at this point, there are many things her aunt has been keeping from her.
Another set of footsteps coming from the left hall sends her to back away behind the wall.
"Prepare the cloning procedure for Project Sidekick," A man barks in a distinctive voice. One that makes Novia shiver with familiarity. Alarming familiarity.
Desmond. She can envision the contempt that molds in his face. And who he was speaking to, she doesn't know. They keep quiet whilst Desmond continues to where the man was overseeing the door repairs.
"We're almost done here, Doc," The man with the golden helmet says.
Desmond is silent, then suddenly bewildered, "Where's the weapon?"
"Superboy? He carried the intruders down to the cloning chambers. I—"
"We have genomorphs for that! Get the weapon back in his pod!" Desmond barks.
Genomorphs. So those things have a name...
Novia backs into the left hall for cover as the two men converse—precisely, Desmond berating the man with the golden helmet. The floor becomes harder and smooth as she continues. Cold, because it's metal of some sort. The lights become brighter, more lucid. She turns, bumping into something as hard as the floor.
A man.
Or... a really tall boy.
She watches him and he watches her with equal confusion. He seems normal enough. Dark hair cropped and short which brings out the deep azure of his eyes. The suit he wears is white—blindingly white which seems to capture the light around them. And on the chest is an S-shield. The signature of Superman.
Novia blinks, "Superbo—"
"Crystal Girl! Babe, am I glad to see you!" A hollowed, but recognizable voice calls out to her. Kid Flash, much to her chagrin, is here as well and—her eyes widen—so are the other sidekicks. All three of them, bound and contained in separate chambers.
"Annnd… she tags along anyway. Figures." Robin adds, unamused.
"I can leave," Novia shoots back. Better yet, free Kid Flash and Aqualad then leave—but it's just a thought. She focuses on the chambers, thinking. They're not glass. They're something else. Something far more durable that cannot be broken with a single impact—or for her standards, a thought. She grimaces, Smart move, Desmond.
She looks back at Superboy who she now realizes had been watching her, "Y-you think you can get them out of there?"
Superboy shifts, head lowering, "I—"
"It seems like the Sidekick League just keeps growing nosier,"
They whip around to find Dr. Desmond standing at the entrance accompanied by two other people, each with a small genomorph sitting stiffly on their shoulder.
A derisive smirk forms on Desmond's face, "A glutton for punishment, I'm sure."
"Hey! Who are you calling 'sidekicks?" Kid Flash protests from behind. A vain remark. Desmond pays him no mind, mostly focused on Novia. Whereas Novia is entirely focused on the woman to his right.
He gestures to the two accompanying him, "Guardian, restrain her. Spence, prepare a cloning chamber for our new guest,"
Spence.
Novia feels herself grow cold.
Superboy moves as if to retort. He stiffens when the small genomorph on Desmond hops onto his shoulder.
"Oh, please," Desmond sneers, "You're not a real boy. You're a weapon. And you work for me." At this, the creature's horns glow and Superboy becomes distant.
"Now get back into your pod!" Desmond barks. Superboy leaves, offering no resistance.
"Novia, run—now!" Aqualad yells. She hears him—she hears all three of them urging her to escape. Yet she's glued here. Her eyes fixated on the woman scientist with a solemn expression, almost dead in a sense. Novia fails to find the innocence in this woman's countenance—entirely different from the picture she left on her desk.
Spence.
Amanda Spence.
Her eyes burn upon the sight of her aunt. The woman she fought tooth and nail to see. Only to regret it all.
"Auntie, what's going on?" They are crude words that sting Novia's throat. Anxious. She is wary of Guardian who shifts towards her. At the same time, she senses an odd reluctance in his movements—as though he doesn't want to seize her.
And maybe he truly doesn't. But she won't dismiss him from her peripheral just yet.
"Aunt?" Desmond's chuckle draws her attention. His lips pull back into a snarling grin, finally recognizing the girl before him. "In that case—Dr. Spence, start the cloning procedure. Unfortunately, our superiors have no use for children outside the League," His smile widens, "Your organs, however, may be useful for furthering genetic research."
Something in Amanda clicks and she gapes at Desmond, whatever held her falters by those words, "Desmond, wa—!"
She stops mid-sentence. That creature sitting on her shoulder—its horns glowed. Just as one of them did to Superboy before he walked out silently. Mind control.
No way.
Cadmus has perfected mind control.
"Get off he—" Novia gasps, her arms are swiftly locked by Guardian. She struggles against his hold, receiving only pain from doing so. She's forced to watch her aunt fall docile. The woman's eyes become glazed, and she loses all desire to finish her sentence.
Amanda moves past Novia without recognition. She begins typing commands into the nearby control panel. Suddenly, the room begins to whir. The sound overlaps like hollowed cries contending for dominance. And when it mixes with the screams of the three boys, it becomes jarring enough to bring Novia to her knees.
She senses something in her peripheral. A flash of black above. Now steady and with Desmond at the other end.
A revolver.
Novia swallows, quickly prying her awareness from the glass orbs underneath the boys. She looks up at Desmond—at the tip of his revolver and she thinks of begging, crying as well. But he'll enjoy that, won't he? And yet she still feels her eyes gloss over. She frets, unsure if she can do this.
The gun fires and Novia's entire body shatters. Hundreds of glass shards suspend into the air, chiming as the bullet drives past them. The relief she feels is temporary as pain wrenches her shards back together and sends her to writhe on the floor.
Of course, Desmond isn't pleased with the outcome. It's apparent in the noise he makes. A sound accompanied by the turn of the cylinder.
But he has no time to make the second shot, dropping the gun upon the sound of tearing metal from behind. It drowns out the boys' screams and silences the violent machinery. Novia can only shift slightly to see that the door and the room's wiring have been torn from its hinges. Another boom as the culprit tosses it to the side.
Superboy.
"I thought I told you—" He silences Desmond with one throw. And poor Guardian follows him after.
"Don't give me orders," Superboy growls. Then his eyes shift over to Amanda Spence.
"Leave her," Novia chokes, biting back the pain. "Please."
He says nothing but fulfills her wish—pitiful as it is. He turns to the three boys instead, leaving her to collect herself.
"So… are you here to help us or fry us?" Kid asks with genuine concern.
Superboy is silent before speaking, "Huh, I don't seem to have heat vision, so I suppose helping is my only option,"
Robin is able to free himself from the chamber with the use of a lockpick fixed in his glove. He wrings his wrists, "Finally. Lucky Batman isn't here. He'd have my head for taking so long,"
Kid Flash scoffs, "Dude—seriously? The whole League will have our heads after tonight!" The anxiety is felt beneath his otherwise joking demeanor.
Robin ignores him and hovers over the control panel before finding the right button. He looks to Superboy, "Free Aqualad. I'll get Kid Mouth,"
"Don't you give me orders too," Superboy huffs. Still, he leaps to Aqualad's aid. The shackles seemingly crumbled in his hands.
"Novia?"
The girl looks up at the sound of her name, everything above her blotted out by the lights. All but a dark figure at her side that is only recognizable by voice—soft after everything that happened.
Auntie. Novia believes she at least murmured the word as Amanda supports her with one arm over her shoulder. A movement far too sudden that sends darkness to creep along the edges of Novia's vision. She squeezes her eyes shut, grunting at another episode of pain.
She feels everything below her neck contracting to sudden and untraceable queues. It's simultaneous, this feeling.
"We need to get going. Can she walk?" Robin asks, saying "she" as if Novia can't answer the question herself. And maybe she can't, but the gesture still strikes her as rude.
"Barely, she'll need medical attention," Amanda says.
"Great. As long you do that anywhere but here," Kid Flash says.
"You'll never get out of here! I'll have you all back in pods before morning!" Desmond yells.
Robin turns and flings something from his belt across the room, "That guy is not whelmed—not whelmed at all" He sighs. Novia feels when his devices pierce the glass orbs containing their DNA. They whir to life.
"What is it with you and this 'whelmed' thing?" Kid asks before speeding away.
The next thing she hears, as her aunt supports her out of the room, is the bang of an explosion. Its impact sends a rush of heat down the hall, leaving flames in its wake. She looks back, suspecting that maybe—just maybe—it killed Desmond. Horrible man as he was, she wouldn't mourn him. But that wouldn't be like Batman's sidekick at all, would it? No. Robin can't even hope to kill.
The boys are fast and make a decent pace down the enteric halls. That is, until an alarm blares overhead, sending the red lights to flash above the nodes lodged into the walls to swell.
Abruptly, Amanda shifts and pulls Novia into another hall. The one with a door now easily recognizable since its repair.
The red Kr. Superboy's room—or ex-room, for that matter.
Novia stiffens, "Why—"
"Desmond had just awakened every genomorph in stasis. We can't afford the confrontation," Amanda states, typing something into the control panel. It turns green and the doors slide open.
Novia can barely muster the energy to look back before they slam behind her. "But—"
"Your friends should be fine. They have Kr. He is one of our more... advanced projects." Amanda says—dismissively because her mind is preoccupied, searching the room for something.
Novia is more concerned about their survival—exactly how will she and her aunt escape if there are hundreds of those things running around?
And—that word again. Friends. She bites her cheek at it as her aunt settles her onto the floor. The frigidness of it is only fitting for what she truly feels. She clutches her stomach, for some reason the pain is concentrated there. Like a knot, tightening at every—
"Ah" Novia grinds her teeth.
At this, Amanda hurries and disappears from Novia's line of sight. The girl can hear her rummaging through something. There's the clinking of glass bottles as she speaks, "We're low on time. Under normal circumstances, I'd perform an X-ray. But this should do."
Amanda reappears, setting a tray beside Novia's head. She picks up a clear bottle with a label so small that it's impossible to read. She applies gloves and begins assembling something. Ad when it comes into Novia's view—
A syringe and a needle.
Novia's inches away, hindered by the sudden tightness she feels in her chest, "What are you doing?"
"Administering morphine. Hold still." Amanda says, measuring the liquid she draws into the needle. She pulls her niece back with little effort, holding Novia's arm with a firm grip as she disinfects it. Without warning, she injects her, earning a small cry from the girl.
It's more the sight of the needle piercing her skin that sends her to shrivel up inside. Novia bites her lip. A chill pulses through her where the pain had once festered. It finally degrades but she feels slightly dizzy as it does. Amanda withdraws the needle, slowly which makes Novia anxious at the feeling.
"Thank you," She murmurs when all is done. Yet her eyes don't leave the injection site. As if subconsciously expecting something else to occur.
Amanda helps her up, "Don't thank me yet. We still need to get out of here,"
"Right," Novia pouts, thinking. Her eyes immediately find the door. It has grown quiet outside. She can't hear thrashing against the walls or roars from the giant genomorphs.
Novia moves to the door, at first staggering from a sudden weakness in her legs, brought on by the slight shift of the room—a side effect of the injection. She assesses the control panel, only a few of the buttons and their functions are identifiable. Specifically, open, close, and lock.
"I may have a plan,"
A/N: Hey guys. I hope you're faring well despite the insanity that was 2020. But somehow it's leaking into 2021...
Okay, so the reason it took me a while to update is that midsummer I had decided to rewrite & condense all of the chapters. It took even longer because I didn't work on it regularly. It was more of an off-and-on thing for me and I've mostly been invested in my classes, extracurriculars, and short fiction since the rise of the pandemic.
But as of now (18/02/21), I am currently working on revisions for the Happy Harbour episode.
I feel like so far the main premise remains the same. I'm just stripping my OCs childhood memories from the story. I'm going to add them to the end of the fic since I have about a novella-length (~20k words) of content just on that and it was beginning to absorb my word count margins. (Literally, my last chapter was 9k+ words or something because of this). But yeah, hopefully, I can knock out this rewrite before summer. I can't make any promises though, sorry :(
Also, this fic might become rated M. Idk. Need room for possible gore.
