The night was thick with tension. A mansion, secluded somewhere in Virginia, stood still under the cover of darkness. Its imposing structure was well-guarded, with heavily armed patrols circling the perimeter. The guards were vigilant, their eyes scanning every shadow, every corner.

Suddenly, a blur of motion sliced through the darkness. A figure clad in black darted past the patrol, moving faster than any of them could register. A whisper of wind was the only evidence of her presence. No alarm sounded—no one even noticed she had already slipped through the mansion's security.

The figure glided effortlessly to a side window, her movements precise and calculated. With a quiet hiss, she pried it open, slipping inside without a sound. Inside, the mansion was deathly silent, the air thick with a sense of long-held secrets. The figure's boots barely made a noise on the polished floor as she headed toward the dimly lit living room.

As she moved through the shadows, her hand instinctively rested on the handle of a sleek, black handgun at her side. She reached the doorway, but just as she stepped forward, the room was suddenly flooded with light.

The shadowy figure froze, gun drawn and aimed in one swift motion. Her eyes, wide with adrenaline, locked on the source of the light.

A low, steady voice echoed through the room. "Patricia West."

Standing at the edge of the room, Amanda Waller stepped out of the shadows. The years had not been kind to her; she was older now, grayer, but her presence was as commanding as ever. She fixed her eyes on the young woman, calm and collected, her arms folded behind her back. The weight of her reputation hung in the air.

"Or do you preferLegacy?" Waller asked, her tone sharp, probing.

For a moment, the room was silent, save for Patricia's heavy breathing. Slowly, she lowered her gun, the tension in her body easing. Her piercing eyes softened, though wariness still clung to her expression.

"Waller," Patricia muttered, her voice a mix of surprise and resolve.

The two women stood across from one another—the past and future colliding in the quiet of the night. Patricia West, caught between two worlds, had come to seek answers. But with Amanda Waller, the answers were never simple.

XXXX

Patricia West tucked her sleek, black handgun back into its holster, hidden beneath her jacket. Her movements were quick and practiced, betraying her years of training. She stood tall, her sharp blue eyes scanning the room with the alertness of someone who was never quite at ease. Patricia's hair, a vibrant red with streaks of silver at the tips, was tied back in a loose ponytail, the rebellious strands framing her angular face. Her outfit—a black, tactical jacket over a form-fitting suit that allowed for flexibility—gave her a shadowy, almost ghostly presence. The faint outline of her dual pistols was barely visible beneath her jacket, and a pair of combat boots completed the look, giving her an air of constant readiness.

Amanda Waller watched her carefully, standing across the room with her arms still folded. She deadpanned, "I should really do something about security."

Patricia smirked, brushing off the remark with a casual wave. "Eh, i wouldn't waste my breath. it would end the same way."

Her eyes flicked to Waller, a spark of curiosity and surprise still lingering in her expression. "Wait you know me?"

Waller raised an eyebrow. "It's not every day the daughter of one of the founders of the Justice League drops at my doorstep."

Patricia's expression tightened, though she kept her stance relaxed. "Well, this isn't a social call."

"I figured," Waller replied, her voice level. She took a few steps forward, her eyes narrowing with measured interest. Despite her age, Waller's gaze was still as sharp as ever, the calculating mind behind it always working. "Why are you here, Ms. West?"

Patricia's gaze shifted, as though she was weighing her words. The cocky bravado she had shown earlier softened, replaced by a look of uncertainty, even vulnerability. She took a breath before speaking.

"I'm here for some advice."

Waller's brow furrowed slightly. "Advice?"

Patricia nodded, pacing slightly as if unsure how to get the words out. "Yeah. I thought you'd be the best person for... unbiased counsel."

Waller didn't speak for a moment, letting the silence stretch between them as she studied the young woman. Her curiosity piqued. It wasn't like Patricia to seek guidance from someone like her. Heroes didn't usually consult the likes of Amanda Waller unless something was weighing on them.

Her voice softened, though her tone remained grounded in that same cold precision. "Unbiased, huh? I'm curious, Ms. West... what kind of advice are you looking for?"

Patricia finally stopped pacing, meeting Waller's gaze head-on. There was no hesitation in her voice now, just a raw edge of determination. "I need to understand... who I really am. How to balance the two halves of me—the speedster and the demon. And I thought... if anyone knew about conflicting identities, it'd be you."

Waller's eyes flickered with understanding, though her face remained unreadable. She took a moment before responding, her tone both curious and cautious.

"And what makes you think I can help you with that?"

Patricia crossed her arms, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice. "Because you've dealt with people like me before. You've made tough decisions. And you don't have any reason to sugarcoat the truth. I need someone who won't lie to me. Someone who knows how to get inside my head."

Waller's lips quirked into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Well, Ms. West, you certainly came to the right place."

Patricia's shoulders relaxed just slightly, though the weight of her internal struggle was still heavy in the air. Waller knew this wouldn't be a simple conversation, but if Patricia was serious about facing her own demons—both literal and metaphorical—then perhaps, just perhaps, she was ready for the harsh truths that Amanda Waller was known for.

Waller stepped further into the room, gesturing to a chair. "Sit down, Patricia. Let's see if we can get to the heart of this."

XXXX

Patricia leaned back in the chair, the tension in her frame easing only slightly as she began to speak. Her voice carried a weight that came from years of internal struggle, but there was also a casual edge, as if she had grown used to carrying that burden.

"Growing up with a father who was alegendin the superhero business and a mother who used to serve Mundus... let's just say it made for someinterestingmoments."

She glanced at Waller, who listened intently, her sharp gaze never wavering.

"My dad, Wally West—The Flash—he's this symbol of hope, of speed, of... I don't know... doing the right thing all the time. Peopleidolizehim. You grow up with that, and you feel like the whole world expects you to be just like him. Fast, reliable, a hero at every moment. But that's only half of me."

Patricia's fingers idly brushed the handle of one of her guns, a subtle gesture of restlessness.

"My mom, Trish... well, she wasn't exactly a saint before she met Dad. She wasdeepin with Mundus, serving as one of his elite until Dante got her out of that life. It's not like she's ashamed of it or anything—she'sproudof what she's become, how she turned her life around. But that doesn't change what's in her blood."

She exhaled sharply, her eyes flickering with frustration. "That's where I'm stuck. I'm right in the middle of those two worlds—hero and demon—and I don't belong entirely to either."

Waller tilted her head slightly, her interest piqued. She had heard stories of Patricia's unique lineage, but hearing it from the source gave it a deeper, more human edge.

"You're not alone in that struggle," Waller remarked quietly. "Rex Sparda knows that well, doesn't he? His mother was... involved in the Thanagarian invasion."

Patricia nodded, her expression softening a little. "Yeah. Rex and I talk about that sometimes. Shayera, his mom, she played ahugepart in that invasion. For years, the world couldn't decide whether she was a hero or a villain. Rex gets what it's like, having a parent whose past casts a long shadow over who you're supposed to be."

Waller's eyes darkened slightly at the mention of the Thanagarian invasion. She remembered itall too well. That was the turning point, the moment that changed everything for the League, for humanity, for herself.

"The Thanagarian invasion was a dark time," Waller said, her voice a bit quieter now. "It was after that, after Darkseid's invasion, that Cadmus was formed. We started out as a contingency—something to stop the heroes if they went rogue. We saw what happened when Superman was under Darkseid's control. The world couldn't risk that happening again."

She paused, her gaze hardening. "But somewhere along the line... we lost sight of that. We became more focused on controlling the heroes, rather than just protecting humanity from the possibility of them going rogue. That... obsession, that fear of power, is what led to the Cadmus Project's downfall."

Patricia watched Waller closely, hearing the subtle regret woven into her words. It wasn't easy for someone like Waller to admit failure, even indirectly.

"So you're saying that Cadmus started out with good intentions," Patricia said, more as a statement than a question.

"Yes," Waller admitted. "But good intentions are only as valuable as the actions that follow. Cadmus went too far, and we paid the price. People paid the price."

Patricia leaned forward, her expression intense. "That's what I'm afraid of, Waller. Going too far. What if I lose myself trying to be the hero my dad was? Or what if I lose control and become what my mother fought to escape?"

Waller studied her for a long moment, the weight of Patricia's words settling between them. The young woman wasn't just asking for advice—she was asking for permission to find her own way, to reconcile the two halves of herself without losing either.

"You're not your father, and you're not your mother," Waller said finally, her voice firm but not unkind. "The fact that you're here, asking these questions, means you already know that. You've got to find a way to stand on your own, Patricia. Not as Wally West's daughter, not as Trish's legacy. But as yourself."

Patricia sat back, her eyes thoughtful. "I know... it's just easier said than done."

"It always is," Waller replied with a knowing nod. "But that's the difference between people like you and me, Ms. West. You still believe in finding a balance. In living with the weight of both worlds without letting either crush you."

Patricia gave a small, tired smile. "I guess that's what I'm trying to figure out—how to carry that weight without it breaking me."

Waller crossed her arms again, her expression serious but not unkind. "Then you're on the right path. You came here for advice, and here it is: Don't lose sight of who you are in the process. Don't let fear or expectations decide for you. Make your own choices."

Patricia nodded, the tension easing from her face just a little as she absorbed Waller's words. Maybe, just maybe, she was starting to understand. But the journey was far from over.

"Thanks, Waller," Patricia said softly.

Waller's eyes glinted with something that might have been approval—or perhaps just recognition of another young soul standing at the same crossroads she had so often found herself at.

"You're welcome, Patricia. Now, let's see if we can get you a clearer path forward."

XXXX

As Patricia sat in Waller's mansion, her eyes staring into the distance, the conversation faded momentarily, and she drifted into a memory—one that brought a slight smile to her lips.

The sun was blazing high over the Justice League training grounds, casting long shadows across the expanse. The clang of metal echoed through the air asPatriciaandRex Spardafaced off, both breathing hard, both grinning. They were older teens back then, though the rivalry that had defined their friendship since childhood still burned bright.

Patricia stood with her twin pistols in hand, circling Rex, her eyes scanning his every movement, calculating her next strike. She was fast, almost too fast for most opponents, but Rex wasn't most opponents. With his demonic reflexes and Thanagarian combat instincts, he could keep up—and often did. His long black coat fluttered in the wind as he wielded his sword, a dark, elegant weapon with a faint red glow. His stance was calm, measured, but his smirk gave away his eagerness to strike.

"Come on, Legacy, you're gonna have to do better than that!" Rex taunted, spinning his sword expertly in his hand. His voice had that typical playful edge, the one that always managed to both annoy and motivate her.

Patricia narrowed her eyes, her grin widening. "Better watch your back, Rex. Or do you want a repeat of last time?"

Rex chuckled, the sound low and confident. "That cheap shot? Please. You're gonna have to beat me for real this time."

Without warning, Patricia shot forward, a blur of speed as she fired off a series of shots from her pistols. The bullets were a mix of holy rounds and demonic-infused shots, glowing faintly as they sped toward Rex. He raised his sword, deflecting the bullets with a swift series of precise movements, his eyes never leaving hers.

She darted left, using her speed to reposition herself, but Rex was ready. His wings flared out in an instant, propelling him forward with inhuman strength as he brought his sword crashing down toward her.

Patricia spun just in time, her pistols crossing to block the strike with a metallic clang. The force of the blow pushed her back, but she dug her heels into the ground, standing her ground.

"Not bad," Rex muttered, his tone still teasing. "But you're gonna have to be faster than that."

With a growl of frustration, Patricia disengaged, flipping backward in a burst of speed. "You talk too much," she shot back, reloading her pistols in a flash.

Rex smiled, but there was a sharpness behind it. He lunged again, this time with more force. Patricia dodged, moving faster than most could even see, but Rex anticipated her, his sword grazing her side as she spun away.

The pain was sharp but fleeting. Patricia gritted her teeth, pushing through it as her demonic side stirred inside her, the familiar power thrumming through her veins. She knew she couldn't hold back anymore.

"Alright, you want fast?" Patricia said, her eyes glowing faintly red. "Let's go, then."

In an instant, she was gone, a blur of motion as she darted around Rex, her form almost invisible to the naked eye. Rex barely had time to react as she appeared behind him, her pistol aimed at the back of his head.

"Gotcha," she whispered.

But Rex was ready.

His wings flared out again, sweeping her off balance just as she fired. The shot went wide, and before she could regain her footing, he spun around, his sword aimed at her chest. Patricia's reflexes kicked in, her pistols clashing against the blade once more.

They stood locked in place, their weapons pushing against each other. Both were breathing hard, sweat rolling down their faces, but neither of them was ready to concede.

"You've gotten better," Rex said between breaths, his smirk never fading.

Patricia grinned back, her arms shaking slightly from the exertion. "You too. But I'm still gonna win."

Rex laughed, a deep, satisfied sound. "We'll see about that."

With one final surge of strength, Patricia pushed him back, using her speed to create distance between them. She aimed her pistols again, but Rex was already moving, his wings propelling him forward.

Before either of them could land another blow, a loud voice rang out across the training ground.

"Alright, that's enough!"

Both Rex and Patricia froze, turning to seeWally Weststanding at the edge of the training field, his arms crossed, a knowing grin on his face.

"Dad," Patricia groaned, rolling her eyes. "We were just getting started."

Wally raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Yeah, well, if you two keep going, one of you is gonna end up in the medbay, and your mom's gonna kill me for letting it happen."

Patricia sighed, holstering her pistols as Rex lowered his sword. They exchanged glances—both competitive, but full of mutual respect.

"Next time," Rex said, pointing at her with his sword before he sheathed it.

"You wish," Patricia shot back, though there was a warmth in her tone. They both knew that they'd keep this playful rivalry going as long as they could. It was how they pushed each other, how they grew stronger.

As they walked off the training grounds together, the sun setting behind them, Patricia felt the familiar pull of her two worlds—her father's world of light and heroism, and her mother's world of darkness and power. And in moments like these, sparring with Rex, she felt like maybe, just maybe, there was a place for her in both.

Back in the present, Patricia blinked, the memory fading as she refocused on Waller. The weight of her struggle settled back into place, but that brief moment of nostalgia, of camaraderie with Rex, lingered in her mind.

She wasn't alone in this fight. She never had been.

XXXX

Waller crossed her arms, leaning back slightly as she regarded Patricia. Her voice took on a gruff, reflective tone as she continued.

"I'll be honest with you, Patricia. I never had a particularly favorable view of your father back in the day. I saw him as a jokester, someone who didn't take anything seriously. A speedster with more mouth than sense, always in over his head."

Patricia smirked, unsurprised. "Yeah, I can't say I'm shocked. Most people only saw the jokes. They didn't see the rest of him."

Waller's expression softened just a touch, something almost resembling a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "I wasn't wrong to doubt him at first. He didn't have Batman's combat prowess or intellect, and he sure as hell didn't have Superman's invulnerability. But it wasn't until the Cadmus crisis that I began to see the bigger picture—to understandwhyyour father was so important."

Patricia leaned forward, intrigued now. "What do you mean?"

Waller's gaze sharpened, memories surfacing as she began to recount one of the most pivotal moments in her long, controversial career.

"Your father may not have had their raw power or strategic brilliance, but he was the heart and soul of the Justice League. And when it mattered most, he stepped up in ways none of us expected."

The Cadmus Crisis - Several Years Ago

The tension between Cadmus and the Justice League had reached an all-time high. Lines were drawn, and trust had crumbled into dust. It all came to a head when someone used the Watchtower's fusion cannon to destroy part of a city, framing the Justice League. The world was teetering on the brink of a civil war between the heroes and the people they had sworn to protect.

The Watchtower was in chaos, with a full-scale battle erupting between Cadmus's Ultimen soldiers and the Justice League. Fists clashed, powers flared, and alliances shattered. Amid the chaos, a small group from both sides—Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and even Waller herself—began to realize something was amiss.

Someone was pulling the strings. Someone far more dangerous.

That someone was Lex Luthor, a man who had been secretly funding Cadmus from the shadows. Luthor had a grand plan in mind: using nano-technology developed by Cadmus to replicate Amazo, the ultimate super-android. Amazo had been designed by the late Dr. Ivo, a former LexCorp employee, and it had the terrifying ability to duplicate any superpower it encountered. Luthor planned to transfer his consciousness into Amazo's android body, becoming unstoppable.

It was Luthor who had hacked into the Justice League's systems and used the Watchtower's fusion cannon to make it look like the League had gone rogue. His ultimate goal? To make himself the hero in the public's eyes while dismantling the League.

Luthor's plan was dangerously close to succeeding. He had nearly completed the transfer of his mind into Amazo's body, preparing to become something far beyond human at Lexcorp.

But Amanda Waller wasn't one to be outmaneuvered. In a last-ditch effort, she managed to destroy the android with a nano-disassembler beam, stopping Luthor's transfer at the final moment.

Unbeknownst to both Cadmus and the League, however, there was a third party playing its own game—Brainiac.

Years ago, Brainiac had implanted nano-technology inside Luthor's body, subtly influencing his actions ever since. It was Brainiac who had cured Luthor's kryptonite-induced cancer, augmenting his physical capabilities while slowly preparing to transfer his consciousness into a more suitable host—Amazo.

When Luthor's original plan failed, Brainiac adapted, fusing his own consciousness with Luthor's. Together, they hatched a new scheme: to remake the universe in their image, using stolen Dark Heart technology from Cadmus's vaults to fuse together into a monstrous hybrid.


The Final Battle: Justice League vs. Luthor-Brainiac

As the battle raged on, the original seven members of the Justice League—Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter, Hawkgirl, and the Flash—stood against the fusion of Luthor and Brainiac.

But even the combined might of the League couldn't stop them. Brainiac-Luthor was too powerful, their fused form enhanced by the Dark Heart's nanotechnology. The League was battered, pushed to their limits, and for the first time, it seemed as though they might lose.

That's whenWally West—the Flash—stepped up.

While the rest of the League struggled to even slow Luthor-Brainiac down, Flash knew he had to do something drastic. He had one advantage that even Brainiac couldn't anticipate: speed. Not just the speed they had seen before, but the full, terrifying potential of the Speed Force.

In that moment, Wally made his decision.


Flash's Finest Hour

He took off, circling the globe in a blur, faster than anyone had ever seen before. His form became a streak of red lightning as he tapped into the full power of the Speed Force, building momentum with each pass.

Each blow he struck against the Brainiac-Luthor hybrid stripped away pieces of their armor, bits of nanotech flying off with every hit. Each strike was more powerful than the last, and the fusion began to falter under his relentless assault.

Faster. Harder. Flash's speed increased until he was little more than a blur of energy.

With one final, desperate lunge, Wallypouncedon the Luthor-Brainiac fusion, raining blows down in a barrage of red lightning and kinetic force. The air crackled with raw energy as he pushed himself beyond his limits, every fiber of his being vibrating with the speed and power of the Speed Force.

Then came the explosion.

Flash's final strike sent a shockwave through the battlefield. The League rushed forward, reaching the crater left behind in the explosion's wake. They found Luthor, alive but unconscious, his body scorched. Brainiac was gone, completely eradicated.

The team turned to Flash, who was standing nearby, looking down at his hands with a strange expression.

"I feel kinda… funny," he said, his voice quiet, confused.

And then, in the blink of an eye, he vanished.

Gone. Wally West had disappeared into the Speed Force, leaving the Justice League staring at the empty space where he had just stood.


The Rescue from the Speed Force

For the Justice League, there was no question of leaving him behind. The original six members—their bond forged through countless battles—set off into the Speed Force itself to retrieve their fallen friend. They fought against time and space, racing against the very fabric of reality as Wally was being pulled deeper into the Speed Force, ready to fade forever.

But together, they succeeded. They pulled him back, dragging Wally out of the Speed Force just before he vanished completely.


Back to the Present: The Conversation Continues

Patricia blinked, the weight of the memory settling over her. Waller's eyes were distant, reliving that moment from years ago.

"You see," Waller said softly, "I learned then that your father wasn't just a jokester. He didn't have Batman's intellect or Superman's invulnerability, no. But he was the heart and soul of the League. When the chips were down, he was the one who made the sacrifice, who did what had to be done."

Patricia nodded slowly, her respect for her father deepening in ways she hadn't quite expected. "He didn't need to be like them. He was… just him."

Waller gave a short, almost approving nod. "Exactly. And that's why, when it really mattered, he saved all of us."

The room fell into a quiet, thoughtful silence. Both women reflected on the legacy of Wally West—the hero who had saved the world not by being the strongest or the smartest, but by having the heart to do what was right, no matter the cost.

For Patricia, that was something to hold on to. Something she could learn from.

XXXX

Patricia's mind wandered, her eyes unfocused as the weight of memories settled over her. She remembered the scathing comments, the rumors, the whispered criticisms that had followed her mother everywhere, never truly dissipating.

No matter how much her mother,Trish, had fought to leave her past behind, people still remembered her as a former servant ofMundus, the demon king. To some, she was nothing more than a villain going through the motions of redemption. They had even called her apet projectof Dante's, as if all her deeds—her sacrifices—were just exercises to make her worthy of walking among the heroes.

It wasn't enough. It never was.

But then there wasDante. Her uncle, both fierce and laid-back, had seen through all that noise. Patricia remembered his advice from years ago, said with his trademark devil-may-care grin and easy confidence.

"Kid, listen up," he had said, his swordRebellionslung over his shoulder casually. "People are gonna talk, judge you for who you are, or where you come from. Let 'em. Wear it like armor, so they can't ever use it to hurt you. You've got the best of both worlds, Patricia. Don't let anyone make you feel ashamed of that."

He had spoken the words with such casual ease, but they had stuck with her all these years. Her heritage—both the heroic and the demonic—was something she would always carry, and the only way to deal with the whispers was to embrace it.

But those doubts, those cracks in her armor, still lingered, gnawing at her.


Patricia shook herself from the memory and glanced back at Waller. "That sounds great for my dad," she said, her voice tinged with an edge of bitterness. "But it's not the same for my mom. No matter how much she's done to help save the world, people still look at her like she's just a reformedbad girl."

Waller, always quick to read between the lines, scoffed, her usual candor unfiltered. "That's because people are fools. They see what they want to see. But your mother… she has something most of them never will."

Patricia arched an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"Empathy," Waller said without hesitation. "Trish may have that bad-girl-reformed vibe going on, but there's something real underneath all that. She's been to the darkest places, Patricia, and she's come out on the other side. That's something most people will never understand."

Patricia considered that for a moment. "Anything about her that really stands out to you, Waller?"

Waller's expression grew more serious as her mind drifted to an old memory. "Oh yes, there was one incident that stands out… one where your mother's empathy was the only thing that saved the day."


Flashback: The Galatea Incident

It was some time after Darkseid's second invasion. Amanda Waller stood at the edge of a quiet clearing deep in the woods of New Jersey, the air heavy with the scent of destruction. Trees had been torn from the ground, the earth scarred with deep craters. In the distance, a plume of smoke still rose from the remains of a small cabin.

Ahelicopterdescended onto the makeshift landing zone, its blades whipping the air into a frenzy. Waller stepped out, straightening her coat as she surveyed the scene. Superman, Batman, Vixen, Green Arrow, and Trish were already there, standing near the perimeter of the devastation.

Batman, ever the observant one, didn't even turn to face her. "I should have known you had a hand in this," he muttered.

Waller didn't waste time on pleasantries. "Galatea's situation is critical, She's confused and looking for answers. if we don't get this situation under control, something terrible is going to happen." she said, her tone flat and professional.

Trish, standing with her arms crossed, deadpanned, "It already has, Waller."

Ignoring the jab, Waller turned to Superman. "I assume you've read the reports on Galatea?"

Superman nodded, grim understanding on his face. "She's far stronger than my cousin. One of Cadmus's deadliest assets, designed specifically to take down the Justice League."

Vixen stepped forward, her brow furrowed. "And Professor Hamilton? Why's he so important?"

Waller's expression darkened. "He's the one who created her, raised her like a weapon. To Galatea, he was her father. But now, after everything, he's gone underground. The government wants to make an example of someone from Cadmus, and he's the prime target."

Green Arrow scoffed. "I said it before, and I'll say it again—Professor Hamilton is a piece of garbage."

Superman sighed, shoulders heavy with responsibility. "I'll try to talk her down. If that doesn't work, I'll subdue her."

But Trish placed a hand on his arm, stopping him. "No. I'll talk to her."

Superman glanced at her, confused. "Trish, she's Kryptonian. And she's angry. This isn't—"

"I know," Trish interrupted, her voice low and determined. "But I've been where she is. Let me handle it."


The Confrontation: Trish and Galatea

Trish walked down a narrow path into the woods, the destruction growing worse with every step. She could feel the weight of anger and despair in the air, and it wasn't long before she found them.

Galateawas on her knees, bloodied and clutching her shoulder, a raw mix of pain and fury written across her face. In front of her stoodProfessor Hamilton, his hands trembling as he held a smoking kryptonite gun, leaning heavily against the remains of a cabin.

Trish approached, her movements calm, her eyes never leaving the scene. Without a word, she walked up to Hamilton, gently pulling the gun from his hands.

"I'll take it from here…daddy," she said with a cold smile. Hamilton's face fell at the word, his shame deepening.

Trish turned her attention to Galatea. She could see the pain, not just physical, but emotional. The loneliness. The betrayal.

"You alright, kid?" Trish asked, her voice softer now.

Galatea glared at her, still clutching her shoulder. "No. I'm not." She spat the words with venom. "I was raised to be a weapon. Trained for a war that never even happened. I was theircreation… a soldier for Cadmus's war against the League. They told me the League were the bad guys, but it was all a lie. I never had a family. Never had anything."

Her voice cracked, and her eyes darted to Hamilton. "I thought he was my father. I thought… he cared. But he just shot me."

Trish's expression softened, seeing the parallels between Galatea and her own past under Mundus's control. She knelt in front of Galatea, meeting her eyes. "Join the club, sweetie. I know what that's like."

Galatea's face twisted in rage. "No, you don't!"

In a burst of fury, Galatea lashed out, throwing a wild punch. But Trish was faster, stronger. She blocked the blow with ease, deflecting each attack as they briefly sparred, the fight more about emotions than actual combat.

"I was used," Galatea shouted between punches. "Trained to kill. I took lives for them. And for what? To be discarded like trash? I have no family. Nopurpose. What am I supposed to do now?"

Trish caught Galatea's fist, her grip firm but gentle. "Listen to me. You've got every reason to be angry. But don't let that anger control you. Make your own choices now. You're more than what they made you."

Galatea's breaths came in ragged bursts as she tried to hold back her tears, but they spilled over, her rage finally giving way to grief.

Trish pulled her into a gentle embrace, her own way of offering comfort, knowing how hard it was to fight that inner war. "You're not just some lab rat, and you don't have to be a weapon. You can bemorethan what they made you."

In the distance, Batman, Superman, Vixen, and Green Arrow watched as Trish led a subdued Galatea out of the woods. Behind them, Professor Hamilton slumped against the cabin, defeated. He raised his hands in surrender as a government official approached, handcuffing him without a word.


Back to the Present

Patricia blinked, returning to the present moment in Waller's mansion. "So, what happened with Galatea?"

Waller's expression was unreadable. "She's out there, living her life on her terms now. She's not the weapon they wanted her to be. Your mother gave her that chance."

Patricia nodded, thinking back to her mother's lessons, her empathy. Maybe her motherwasn'tthe reformed bad girl people saw her as. Maybe she was something more. Just like her father, Trish had found a way to step up when it mattered most.

Maybe, Patricia thought, she could too.

XXXX

Waller watched Patricia carefully, her sharp eyes taking in the young woman's thoughtful expression. The weight of their conversation hung in the air, thick with the shared memories and history that spanned decades.

"Your parents," Waller began, her voice steady, "I've known them for almost thirty years. I've seen what they're capable of firsthand. Your father's speed? Your mother's demonic strength? Sure, they're powerful. But that's not where their real strength lies."

Patricia looked up, curious. "What do you mean?"

Waller uncrossed her arms and leaned forward slightly, the hard edge in her demeanor softening just a fraction. "Their real power, Patricia, is in their compassion. Their empathy."

Patricia blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Compassion and empathy weren't the first words that came to mind when people thought of heroes. Power, sure. Strength, resilience, even courage. Butempathy?

Waller continued, her tone unwavering. "I've seen your father outrun death, break the laws of time itself. I've watched your mother fight her way out of the darkest corners of Hell. But the thing that sets them apart—what makes them true heroes—is their ability to understand people. To connect. Not just with the people they save, but with those who've fallen, those who've been lost."

Patricia looked down, processing Waller's words. She thought of her father—Wally West—the fastest man alive, the jokester who had more heart than anyone ever gave him credit for. He didn't have to be the strongest, but when it mattered, he was always there. Always ready to sacrifice himself for others.

And her mother—Trish—the former servant of a demon king, who had clawed her way out of darkness and still managed to reach out to those who were struggling to escape their own. She thought of the Galatea incident Waller had mentioned, how her mother had connected with the kryptonian clone, not through force, but through understanding.

"They always seem to know what people need," Patricia murmured, half to herself.

Waller nodded, her voice a little softer now. "Exactly. They've both lived lives full of conflict, of being caught between worlds. And yet, they never lost sight of what's important: People. Their hearts. That's why they're heroes, Patricia. Not because of their powers, but because of their humanity."

Patricia felt a warmth spread through her chest, something she hadn't expected to feel in this conversation. She'd always struggled with feeling caught between her two worlds—her father's legacy of heroism and her mother's darker, demonic past. But hearing Waller's perspective, she realized that maybe the thing that made her parents who they were was something far simpler, and yet far more powerful.

"I guess… I always thought it was about being the fastest or the strongest," Patricia said quietly, her fingers brushing the edge of her gun holster. "But it's more than that, isn't it?"

Waller gave a slow nod. "It always is. Power without compassion is dangerous. But your parents? They found the balance. And you can too."

Patricia looked up, meeting Waller's gaze with a newfound determination in her eyes. "I get it now. It's not about trying to be like them. It's about finding my own way, with what I've got."

Waller smirked, her usual sternness returning as she stood up. "That's the spirit. And trust me, Patricia, you've got more than enough to work with."

Patricia stood as well, her posture lighter than when she had first walked into the mansion. She felt a sense of clarity, a sense of purpose she hadn't had in a while.

"Thanks, Waller," Patricia said, offering a genuine smile. "I didn't think I'd actually get… you know,goodadvice from you."

Waller chuckled, the sound low and dry. "Don't get used to it, West. This was a one-time deal."

Patricia gave a small laugh, feeling a rare moment of camaraderie between herself and the older woman. She turned toward the door, ready to leave, but paused for just a second, glancing back over her shoulder.

"My parents aren't perfect," Patricia said softly, "but they did alright, didn't they?"

Waller's expression softened again, just for a moment. "They did better than alright. And so will you."

With that, Patricia nodded and walked out of the mansion, feeling lighter than she had in a long time. Waller watched her go, her sharp eyes following the young woman as she disappeared into the night, the echoes of a legacy continuing to unfold.

Waller stood in the quiet of the room for a long moment before turning away, her mind already shifting to the next challenge, the next problem to solve. But for tonight, at least, she allowed herself a small moment of reflection.

Compassion. Empathy. The true power behind the heroes.

And perhaps, she thought, the most dangerous force of all.

XXXX

Patricia sat slouched in a large armchair in Wayne Manor, her mind wandering back to the conversation she had with Amanda Waller. The old mansion was quiet, the kind of stillness that settled in places too large for just one person. The only sound was the occasional crackle from the fireplace, casting shadows that danced across the cavernous room. Her gaze was distant, thoughts churning.

Waller's words echoed in her mind—her parents' true strength wasn't in their speed or power but in their compassion. Patricia had always admired her father for his heroism, for the way he never hesitated when someone needed saving. But Waller had opened her eyes to something she had never fully grasped: it wasn't just about saving people physically. It was about the connections, the empathy that bound people together, even in the darkest moments.

For so long, Patricia had felt trapped between two worlds, one of speed and light, the other of shadow and demons. It felt impossible to belong to either fully. She remembered the weight of the expectations, both from her father's side and her mother's. It was like being pulled in two directions, and yet, somehow, both sides were incomplete without the other.

That's whenVergil'sadvice came to mind, a lesson from Rex's father that had stuck with her as much as Dante's more easygoing counsel.

"Might controls everything,"Vergil had once told her, his voice sharp and cold, but the meaning beneath the surface resonated deeply."The power you have is what protects everything you care about. But without humanity, might is hollow. One cannot exist without the other. Humanity connects you to the world, to yourself. Without it, you're just a shell."

Vergil's words had always sounded so intense, so focused on power. But it was that last part, the emphasis on humanity, that struck her now. Maybe that was why her father and mother had found balance—because they understood that power and humanity weren't separate. They were intertwined. Her father's speed, her mother's strength—they both existed because of the compassion and humanity that anchored them.

Patricia exhaled, sinking deeper into the armchair, feeling the weight of her thoughts. She had spent so long trying to balance her powers, her lineage, but maybe it wasn't about balancing those things. Maybe it was about accepting them, letting them coexist. Just as Vergil said—might meant nothing without humanity.

As her thoughts drifted, she pulled out her phone and stared at the screen for a moment before dialing. After a few rings, a sleepy voice answered.

"Patricia?" It wasMelanie Walker, her girlfriend, the reformed criminal once known asTenfrom the Royal Flush Gang. Her voice was thick with exhaustion.

"Hey, babe," Patricia replied, her voice softening. Just hearing Melanie's voice grounded her a little, brought her back from the storm of thoughts swirling in her head.

Melanie groaned, shifting in bed. "Do you know what time it is? Not everyone can function with just a few hours of sleep. I have to be up by 6."

Patricia chuckled, feeling a little guilty. "I just wanted to check if we're still on for that double date with Terry and Dana this weekend."

Melanie yawned, but there was a hint of a smile in her voice. "Yeah, we are. Something come up?"

"Nah," Patricia said, her voice calming. "Just checking to make sure everything's in order. Listen, I'll order some takeout when I get home, make up for waking you up this early. Sound good?"

There was a playful sigh on the other end. "You know how to get on my good side, don't you?"

Patricia grinned. "Only for you, babe. I gotta go now—Justice League business."

Melanie yawned again. "Love you."

"Love you too," Patricia said softly before hanging up.

A gruff voice interrupted her moment of quiet. "You're in my chair."

Patricia glanced up, her heart skipping slightly as she saw her idol,Bruce Wayne, standing in the doorway, leaning on his cane. Even now, in his twilight years, he was an imposing figure, his presence filling the room in a way few others could manage.

"Really?" Patricia said, a teasing grin spreading across her face. "Guess I am,Uncle Bats."

She rose from the chair, stretching a bit as Bruce limped forward and settled into it with a sigh. Patricia watched him as he sat down, noting the subtle wince of pain in his expression. Even in retirement, Bruce Wayne still exuded a kind of quiet power. His heart problems may have taken him out of the field, but in her eyes, he was stillBatman.

"Where have you been?" Bruce asked, his tone as gruff as ever, though there was a hint of concern beneath it.

Patricia smirked. "Had some things to take care of. Didn't know you worried so much about me. Who knew, underneath that rugged exterior, there's an actual heart."

Bruce scoffed, the corner of his mouth twitching in what might have been a smirk. "The enigma is overrated. Especially at 4 a.m."

Patricia chuckled. "Coming from you, Uncle Bats? That's rich."

Bruce gave her the famousBat-glare, the one her father used to call "the Bat-Dad Look." Patricia couldn't help but be amused—it didn't work as well on her as it did on most people. As he reached into his pocket for his heart medication, Bruce's face softened slightly.

"I was a bit concerned," he admitted, carefully unscrewing the bottle cap. "Not about you, but how I'd explain to your parents if their daughter disappeared without a trace…"

Patricia smiled and moved to help him with the bottle, her voice softening as she handed it back. "You worry too much, old man. I'm not going anywhere."

Bruce nodded, acknowledging her words, but there was still a flicker of that familiar overprotectiveness. As he downed his medication, he glanced up at her.

"Diana called. Nothing alarming—she just wanted some insights on a case she's working. Said it might involve demonic activity. She's expecting you at the Metro Tower."

Patricia straightened. "Right. Better get going, then."

Bruce gave her a knowing look. "Eat something first. You'll need to keep your strength up."

Patricia chuckled as she grabbed her jacket. "I'll grab something at the cafeteria."

Bruce shook his head, his tone gruff but fond. "You're a stubborn piece of work, you know that?"

Patricia glanced over her shoulder, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Just like my old folks."

With a final smile exchanged between them, Patricia headed out into the early morning, feeling more sure of herself. She wasn't just Wally West's daughter or Trish's legacy. She was Patricia West—her own person, with her own path. And now, more than ever, she was ready to walk it.

XXXX

The wind whipped around Patricia West—now known asLegacy—as she stood on the rooftop of theMetro Tower, the Justice League's current headquarters. The city stretched out beneath her, bathed in the glow of the early morning sun. Her reflection caught in the glass, and for a moment, she studied herself in her suit—a seamless blend of her parents' legacies.

The black leather jacket hugged her frame, with crimson and yellow accents woven into the design, a nod to both her father's speedster origins and her mother's demonic history. Her pants were a sleek, tactical leather, allowing for both flexibility and protection. Black boots, worn from years of use, were solid and reliable. Her guns were holstered at her side, ready for whatever came next. She had become the embodiment of her parents' strengths—fierce, fast, and formidable—but also, something entirely her own.

She adjusted her jacket, the faint smell of leather comforting as she took a deep breath. The familiar weight of responsibility settled on her shoulders, but this time, it felt right. She wasn't fighting against it anymore. She had finally embraced what it meant to be Legacy, carrying forward the best of both her worlds.

From behind her, the sound of footsteps broke the silence. Patricia turned, her eyes meetingWonder Woman'scalm, commanding gaze as she approached. Diana was as regal as ever, her armor glinting in the sunlight, the lasso of truth coiled at her side. Despite the years, her presence hadn't dimmed in the slightest.

"Legacy," Wonder Woman greeted, her tone formal, but there was something more in her eyes—a silent understanding, an unspoken acknowledgment of who Patricia was and where she came from.

"Wonder Woman," Patricia responded with a nod, maintaining the same professionalism, though there was a subtle connection between them. Diana had known her parents well, back when the Justice League was at its peak. She had fought beside them, seen their struggles, and witnessed their triumphs. And now, she was seeing their daughter step into her own.

For a moment, they stood in silence, the wind ruffling their hair as they looked out over the city. There was no need for words. Patricia knew Diana understood the weight she carried, the legacy she was trying to honor. And Diana, in turn, recognized the strength and determination in Patricia—the same qualities she had seen in both Wally and Trish.

Diana turned slightly, glancing at the horizon. "There's been some unusual activity in the outskirts of the city. It might involve demonic forces. I wanted your expertise."

Patricia nodded, her hand resting on the handle of one of her guns. "I'm ready."

Wonder Woman's lips curved into a faint smile. "Good. I see your mother's sense of directness in you."

"And my dad's sense of adventure," Patricia added with a small grin, feeling the familiar fire of excitement building within her. "Let's do this."

Wonder Woman gave her a knowing nod, her expression returning to its usual seriousness. "Follow me. We'll regroup with the others at the scene."

As they prepared to leave, there was a sense of calm between them, a quiet confidence. Patricia felt the weight of her parents' legacies, but it no longer felt like a burden. It felt like a part of her, a strength that she had finally accepted.

As she stepped forward, her boots hitting the ground with purpose, Patricia—Legacy—felt ready for whatever the world had to throw at her.

Together, she and Wonder Woman leaped into action, the quiet understanding between them solidifying into something more. For the first time, Patricia wasn't walking in the shadows of her parents.

She was creating her own path.