Tarra was a blur of movement, her strength and speed overwhelming. Every time Shayera thought she had the upper hand, Tarra seemed to anticipate her next move, dodging and countering with devastating precision.
A loud crack echoed in the air as Tarra's mace collided with Shayera's ribs, sending the Thanagarian crashing backward into a nearby parked car. The impact shattered the windows and dented in the doors. Shayera's breath came in sharp gasps, pain radiating through her body, but she refused to let it show. Shayera was no stranger to combat. She had been through worse but this felt different. Tarra was different.
Shayera pushed herself up against the wreckage of the car, her wings twitching as she steadied herself. She could hear the distant chatter of the civilians as they watched the battle but none of them seemed to be concerned enough to get move away. Focus, she thought, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth. She couldn't afford to let her surroundings distract her. Yet their safety still concerned her no matter how hard she tried to ignore them.
Tarra's voice cut through the heat of the moment, cold and mocking, "You're slipping, Hol. I thought you'd be better than this."
Shayera's eyes narrowed as she met Tarra's gaze, the challenge in her voice barely contained, "I'm hardly even getting started."
She swung her mace, hoping to catch Tarra off guard, but the bounty hunter ducked low, sliding to the side and retaliating with a spinning kick that connected with Shayera's already broken ribs. The force of the blow left her gasping for air, the wind knocked out of her, but she refused to fall. She couldn't.
"You're slower than I remember," Tarra taunted, her wings snapping back as she dove toward Shayera.
The two Thanagarians collided mid-air with a thunderous clash, their weapons locked together as they traded blows. Tarra's strikes were sharp and calculated, each one designed to cripple. Shayera, however, was still capable of holding her own. Her experience in combat was unmatched but even she could feel the difference between them. Tarra was different. She was relentless, a predator at the top of her game. Tarra was fast, faster than Shayera had remembered. Every strike was precise, aimed at her wings, her joints, her back, her pressure points. It was clear that Tarra had come prepared to subdue her, no matter the cost.
Tarra lunged, aiming for Shayera's wing joint, a strike that would cripple her. Shayera managed to twist herself enough that the blow instead caught her in the ribs again and sent her plummeting toward the ground below.
Shayera hit the sidewalk with a crash. Tarra descended slowly, landing not far with a fluid motion. For a moment, neither of them moved, the tension in the air palpable. The quiet between them spoke louder than words.
With a grunt, Shayera staggered to her feet, her wings taking her into the air as she put distance between them. Sweat trickled down her face, a scowl settling on her lips. Shayera knew that she was not as refined as when she was on Thanagar but she still had enough in her left to fight. Even with all of the decades of combat experience she had, Shayera could recognize the damage this extended maternity leave had done to her. Sparring with Jessica and doing a handful of Justice League mission over the past month was hardly enough for Shayera to get back into her prime. She no longer had the strenuous drills forced upon her like back during her days in the Thanagarian military. All she had were her resources on Earth and within the Justice League. Even then she didn't utilize them. She was more so concerned with the daily events that involved Emma and Rex. Instead of going to the gym, she found herself playing with them or watching movies with them. Instead of sparring, she tagged along with John to his monitor duty shifts to simply hangout and nothing more.
"Look at what these humans have done to you," Tarra hissed, landing a powerful blow with her mace that sent Shayera flying back into ground. "You've become weak Hol."
Shayera was no longer the warrior who actively looked for a fight. Now she was a mother who put her own children's needs over her own. She no longer found herself trying to refine her fighting techniques with any moment she had. She was now a wife who enjoyed spending her time with her husband rather than engage in a sparring match. Her priorities had changed. She had changed. Though Shayera knew that change didn't mean weakness. She still had a reason to fight. She had three very good reasons.
With a war cry, Shayera lunged forward, her mace aimed at Tarra's head. The swing was too slow however. Tarra easily grabbed her arm mid-swing and twisted, sending a sharp jolt of pain through Shayera's right shoulder. She winced, but before Tarra could capitalize on the hold, Shayera shifted her weight and dropped to one knee, using her momentum to throw Tarra off balance.
The move worked but barely. Tarra recovered quickly, and with an animalistic growl, she grabbed Shayera by the wings and yanked, pulling her off the ground with a brutal strength. The pain was immediate, the muscles in her wings screaming in protest, but Shayera twisted in midair, using her remaining strength to elbow Tarra in the face. The bounty hunter staggered back, wiping a thin line of blood from her lip.
Shayera landed hard, her knees buckling beneath her as she struggled to stay on her feet. Her wings folded tightly against her back, protecting her from further damage. Her body was covered in bruises, her muscles aching with the strain, but she refused to give in. She wouldn't let Tarra win. Not like this.
Tarra straightened, her eyes flashing with a mix of frustration and admiration, "You're a bit tougher than I thought you would be. I'll give you that."
Shayera gripped her mace, her fingers numb from the exertion. She felt every bruise, every scrape, but still, she stood. "I'm not going down without a fight," she growled, forcing her voice to remain steady.
Tarra chuckled darkly, twirling her mace with a casual ease that belied the ferocity of her attacks moments earlier. "Oh, I don't doubt it," she said with a light snicker. "But this isn't a fight you can win. You've gone soft, Hol. It's such a shame what you've lost. What these humans took from you."
Shayera's grip on her mace tightened as she kept her eyes locked on Tarra. Her breaths were labored, her body protesting every movement, but her resolve burned brighter than the pain. "You think I've lost something?" she spat, her wings flexing despite the sharp ache. "What I've gained on Earth is worth more than you'll ever understand."
A small gasp from the crowd snapped her attention for a split second—a young, teenage girl, standing frozen in the middle of the street. The teen's wide eyes were fixed on the battle, oblivious to the danger around them.
Tarra saw it too. Her lips curved into a predatory grin. "Looks like you've got a distraction," she said, darting toward the girl.
"No!" Shayera roared, her wings snapping open as she surged forward, ignoring the agony tearing through her body. She reached the teen just as Tarra closed in, pushing her away and taking the full force of Tarra's blow on her back. The pain was blinding and Shayera staggered, her vision swimming, but she turned to face Tarra once more. "You leave them out of this," she growled, her voice low and dangerous.
Tarra paused, her mace still raised. Her gaze flickering between Shayera and the humans who had begun to flee from the scene. "Why all of this for these pathetic humans?" she muttered, almost to herself as she took to the air. Then her eyes hardened, "I can see why they called you a traitor."
Shayera's eyes flashed with fury, her jaw clenching. She would not let Tarra continue to mock everything she had built here on Earth, everything she had sacrificed.
The next clash was fierce, their weapons sparking as they met mid-air. Shayera parried a blow aimed at her head, twisting her body to deliver a counterstrike that grazed Tarra's shoulder. The bounty hunter hissed but didn't slow, her strikes coming faster, more brutal. Shayera could feel herself faltering, her reactions just a fraction too slow, but she dug deep, drawing on reserves of strength she hadn't tapped in years.
Shayera steadied herself, her chest heaving as she stared Tarra down. The bounty hunter seemed untouchable, her every move precise, every strike perfectly calculated. Shayera's vision blurred for a moment, the pain in her ribs radiating like fire, but she gritted her teeth and raised her mace once more. She wasn't done. Not yet.
Tarra tilted her head, watching Shayera with something akin to amusement. "Still standing? I'll give you credit for that," she said, stepping closer. "But it's over, Hol. You're done. Just let me end it."
Shayera's wings twitched, every muscle in her body screaming for her to stop, to retreat. But she wasn't just fighting for herself anymore. She thought of Emma's laughter, Rex's curiosity, and John's steady presence. She couldn't give in, not while she had them to fight for.
Tarra lunged again, her mace swinging in a deadly arc. Shayera dove to the side, her wings snapping open to propel her out of the way just in time. She landed hard, her knees buckling as she stumbled, but she managed to whirl around in time to block Tarra's next strike with the handle of her mace. The impact jarred her arms, nearly forcing her to drop her weapon, but she held on, her grip tightening despite the pain.
"You don't understand, do you?" Shayera growled, her voice hoarse but defiant. "Strength isn't just about swinging a weapon. It's about what you're fighting for."
Tarra smirked, shaking her head as she stepped back, circling Shayera like a predator stalking wounded prey. "Spare me the lectures. Your sentimentality doesn't make you stronger. It makes you weak."
Shayera lunged forward, feigning a high swing with her mace before twisting mid-strike to aim low. For the first time in the fight, she caught Tarra off guard, the head of her mace slamming into the bounty hunter's armored thigh. Tarra let out a sharp hiss of pain, stumbling back, but she recovered quickly, her wings flaring as she took to the air.
Shayera followed, forcing herself to ignore the burning in her ribs and the fatigue weighing her down. The two clashed in midair, their weapons sparking with each collision. Shayera's movements were fueled by sheer willpower, each swing of her mace a testament to her refusal to back down. But Tarra was faster, stronger, and unrelenting. She ducked under one of Shayera's swings, driving her elbow into Shayera's abdomen with brutal force. Shayera gasped, the air knocked from her lungs as she plummeted toward the ground. She hit the pavement hard, her wings crumpling beneath her as she lay there, dazed and struggling to move.
Tarra landed a few feet away, her boots crunching against the asphalt as she approached. "See? All that talk about strength, and here you are. Beaten and broken."
Shayera tried to push herself up, but her arms trembled, refusing to obey. Tarra stood over her, raising her mace for the finishing blow. Shayera's mind raced, searching for a way out, but her body felt like lead. She was out of options, out of time.
And then she remembered the civilians. The people still watching, frozen in fear just beyond the edge of the battle. She wasn't fighting alone not entirely. Drawing on the last reserves of her strength, Shayera forced herself to roll to the side just as Tarra's mace came crashing down, splintering the pavement where she'd been.
Tarra's mace smashed into the pavement, shattering the concrete where Shayera had been just seconds before. Dust clouded the air as Shayera rolled away, her wings dragging like dead weight. Every breath burned, every movement sent pain shooting through her body, but she refused to stop.
She scrambled to her feet, her grip on her mace tightening. Across the battlefield, Tarra stood, her expression a mix of frustration and cold amusement. "You're running on fumes, Hol," Tarra taunted, wings flaring as she advanced. "Why drag this out? You're done."
Tarra approached, her footsteps slow and deliberate. There were no taunts this time, no mockery in her expression—just cold determination. Her mace hung loosely in one hand, the other reaching for the dagger strapped to her side.
Shayera tightened her grip on her own weapon, her knuckles white. Across the battlefield, she spotted Jessica, crouched behind the wreckage of a car. The young Green Lantern was barely clinging to consciousness. Shayera knew what she had to do.
As much as she wanted to stop Tarra, she had to get Jessica out of there. But Shayera knew that Tarra wasn't going to make that easy.
Tarra lunged again, her dagger aiming for Shayera's neck. Shayera moved just enough to avoid the dagger head on but the blade managed to nick her cheek and draw blood. Shayera grit her teeth, forcing herself to move despite the searing pain. She swung her mace low, catching Tarra's ankle and sending her off balance. It wasn't enough to stop her, as she plunged her dagger into the back of Shayera's right calf. A strangled cry escaped her as her leg buckled, dropping Shayera to her knees.
Tarra sneered as she twisted the dagger, forcing a sharp gasp of pain from Shayera. The wound was deep, and blood seeped from it, but Shayera didn't scream. She wouldn't give Tarra that satisfaction. Instead, she focused on her breathing, blocking out the pain. Like how she was trained to do.
"You're too stubborn for your own good," Tarra said, voice dripping with disdain as she pressed her boot against Shayera's shoulder, pushing her down. "But this game is over, Hol." Tarra growled, pinning Shayera in place as she quickly ripped her dagger from her leg, "I'm going to enjoy gutting you."
Tarra's boot pressed harder against Shayera's shoulder, pinning her to the ground as the dagger hovered dangerously above her neck. The pain in Shayera's leg, the bruises across her body, and the weight of exhaustion bore down on her, but she refused to yield. Her eyes never left Tarra's, even as the dagger glinted in the air, ready to end it all.
Shayera's breath was ragged, but she was still holding on—still fighting, deep inside. She wasn't ready to die. Not like this.
Tarra smirked, a cruel grin spreading across her face as she raised the dagger higher. The air between them seemed to vibrate with the inevitability of it all. She was seconds away from ending this and nothing was going to stop her.
That was until a green energy blast slammed into Tarra's side. The bounty hunter hit the ground with a brutal thud, her body skidding across the pavement.
For a moment, everything was silent. Shayera's heart raced as she turned toward the source of the attack. Jessica. The young Green Lantern, struggling to just stay kneeling, had managed to summon just enough energy to fire the beam. Shayera knew they didn't have much time before Tarra regained her focus, so without hesitation, she moved and grabbed Jessica by the arm. She put Jessica's arm over her shoulder as she helped her stand. Shayera's mind raced as she helped Jessica to her feet, the pain in her leg threatening to buckle her. But she couldn't afford to falter. She had a responsibility. She had to get them both out of here.
Tarra groaned as she rolled onto her back, shaking off the energy blast. Her eyes, cold and seething with fury, fixed on Shayera and Jessica. She then moved to push herself up.
Shayera quickly put a finger to her commlink, "Get us out of here, now!"
Shayera's eyes locked with Tarra's as she lifted her mace, preparing to strike. The same deadly gleam Shayera had seen in her before flickered in Tarra's eyes. With a sudden, brutal motion, Tarra lunged toward them, her wings slicing through the air like daggers.
The world around them dissolved into light, the sound of Tarra's enraged scream echoing in Shayera's ears as they vanished.
When the light finally faded, they found themselves in the safety of the Justice League's teleportation bay. Shayera's knees began to buckle, her body screaming in protest as Jessica's weight leaned heavily against her. The room was quiet, save for the sound of their ragged breaths and the faint hum of the teleportation pads.
The next thing Shayera knew, she had finally collapsed onto the cold, metallic floor of the Watchtower. She looked over to see that Jessica was beside her.
"Shayera," Jessica's voice was weak but relieved. She slowly looked around, her eyes blinking as she tried to process their sudden shift in location. "We made it."
Shayera nodded weakly, her eyes closing tightly as she flinched in pain, her mind reeling with the fight they'd barely escaped. She could feel the weight of exhaustion crashing down on her. But more than that, she felt the gnawing sense of loss. Tarra had pushed her to the edge, and though she'd survived this round, she knew the fight was far from over. The aches in her body felt sharper now that the adrenaline had faded. Tarra's words reverberated in her mind, taunting her with the idea that she'd become weak, reminding her that she was nothing but a traitor to her own people. She couldn't let herself believe it, not when she had so much to protect here on Earth. The world she'd chosen, the family she'd built.
Shayera tried to push herself up but the pain in her ribs was too much. She collapsed back with a pained yelp. Footsteps echoed around her as other League members rushed toward them, their voices blurring.
"They need medical attention now!" Shayera could tell that voice definitely belonged to Mister Terrific, his voice sharp with urgency.
Shayera's eyes opened once more and she caught a glimpse of Jessica's face, her eyes filled with guilt. "I'm sorry," Jessica whispered. "I tried...I really did."
Shayera managed a faint smile. "I know you did and we're alive," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "That's what matters."