The atmosphere on the Watchtower control deck was heavy. On the central display, the footage of Tarra Karn and Shayera's fight played, the violent clash between them flashing in vivid color. J'onn J'onzz and Mister Terrific stood side by side, their composed demeanor at odds with the palpable tension in the room. J'onn's presence was calm, a quiet anchor in the storm of uncertainty, while Mister Terrific manipulated the holographic interface beside him, a flicker of worry in his eyes.
Mister Terrific adjusted the holographic interface, highlighting a map of the western United States. "Tarra hasn't made any moves since the encounter in San Diego," he began. "We believe she's gone to ground but the question is where."
J'onn's expression remained unreadable but the slight furrow of his brow betrayed his unease. "It is unusual. Tarra has shown a complete disregard for human life in her previous actions. Yet, since her confrontation with Shayera, she has refrained from further violence."
Shayera, standing across from them, clenched her jaw and crossed her arms over her chest. Her eyes were fixed on the screen, watching the violent encounter as if it were someone else entirely, as though the woman in the footage wasn't her. "She's not stupid," Shayera finally said, her voice controlled but edged with the weight of experience. "We know she's here. She's not going to make any big moves. She's waiting for me to let my guard down. The moment I do, she'll strike. It's what we were trained to do."
Mister Terrific exchanged a glance with J'onn. The silence that followed felt heavy, as if they were all weighing the truth in Shayera's words. "If she's as skilled as you say," Mister Terrific said, breaking the silence, "then we should be concerned. Tarra doesn't act without purpose. If she's lying low, it's likely because she's setting something up, a trap of her own."
Shayera straightened, her gaze never leaving the screen. "She's not setting a trap or planning something. Tarra doesn't operate like your average bounty hunter. She thrives on the chase—every step, every decision. She might be a psychopath but she's calculated and very methodical. She's been trained to do this. We both were trained for this. She's not going to stop until either she's dead or I am."
J'onn's voice broke the silence. "We cannot allow this to continue. If Tarra is targeting you, Shayera, we cannot allow her to come to you when and how she chooses. We must act first."
Shayera's eyes hardened, "I'll be the one to act. She's not going to stop unless I make her. So I say we give her what she wants."
John's brow furrowed at the suggestion. "You want to use yourself as bait?" His voice was sharp, protective.
Shayera glared at the video of her and Tarra's fight. She watched it for a few moments before responding, "She's not going to stop unless I end this and she's clearly after me. I'll draw her out. Set a trap."
"You don't intend to face her alone, do you?" J'onn asked, his tone sharper than usual.
"I don't need the League there," Shayera said firmly. "This is between me and her. If we send a full team, she'll see us coming a mile away."
The room fell quiet again. John's jaw clenched but Shayera's unwavering gaze held him. He shook his head, frustration simmering. "We're talking about a woman who's killed over fifty people, Shayera. She's not coming for a conversation."
"I know," she replied softly but firmly, meeting his gaze with equal resolve. "But if I don't stop her now, she'll eventually start killing humans again just to lure me out. She wants this fight and I'm going to give it to her."
The room went quiet again, the weight of her words sinking in. She was ready to face whatever Tarra threw at her, but there was no escaping the harsh reality of what that meant.
Mister Terrific's voice broke the silence once more. "If we're going to set this up, we need a location. Somewhere remote, isolated, but close enough for us to act quickly if things go sideways." He began adjusting the map on the central display, pulling up a series of coordinates.
Shayera didn't hesitate and immediately pointed to an area on the map. "The old shipping port near San Diego. It's far enough from the city to avoid civilians but it's close enough that she'll be able to find me. She's not going to stay hidden forever. I'll give her the opening she needs."
J'onn nodded, "A calculated decision but be cautious. We cannot afford to underestimate her."
Jessica, who had been quietly listening, spoke up, "What if she doesn't take the bait? What if she doesn't show?"
"Because she's predictable," Shayera replied, a thin smile crossing her face. "Tarra just wants to kill me. If she thinks I'm alone and vulnerable, she'll come."
Jessica opened her mouth to protest but Shayera turned away, refocusing on the map. Shayera couldn't let her see the uncertainty that lingered beneath her steely exterior. She couldn't let anyone see it. Not now.
John shook his head, his voice low and tense. "And what happens when she shows up with everything she's got? She's going to try to kill you again."
"Then we make sure she doesn't walk away from this," Shayera said coldly. "I'm not afraid of her."
John's gaze softened but his frustration remained. "Shayera, it's not about fear. It's about you not throwing yourself into a fight where the odds aren't in your favor."
Shayera met John's gaze, her expression unwavering, but there was a flicker of something deeper in her eyes. A shared history of battles fought, of near-death experiences, and the weight of knowing the cost of their actions. "John, I'm not throwing myself into something blindly. I've thought this through. If we don't take control, she'll keep lurking in the shadows, and I'll always be looking over my shoulder. I won't live like that. Not for myself, not for you, and certainly not for Emma and Rex." Her voice dropped slightly, the rare vulnerability seeping through, though she quickly masked it with a renewed coldness.
John reached out, his hand resting on her shoulder, the weight of his concern evident. "I know why you're doing this but you're more than a target. You're our family, Shayera. You're not just some bait in a trap. I don't want to see you throw your life away to just lure out some deranged Thanagarian."
She turned toward him, the hard edge of her voice softened by the emotion she tried to keep buried. "I'm not throwing my life away, John. I'm taking control of it." Her words hung in the air, the room heavy with her resolve.
J'onn, sensing the depth of the moment, broke in gently. "We will stand with you, Shayera. But you must know, this isn't a battle you fight alone. We have resources, we have a plan." His tone was calm but insistent, reinforcing the solidarity of the League. "We are all prepared to act when the time comes."
Mister Terrific nodded in agreement, his voice steady but tinged with concern. "We've got your back but we'll need to be prepared for anything. If Tarra is more unpredictable than we than estimate we can't let our guards down for even a second."
Shayera turned back to the map, her finger tracing a path over the shipping port area. "I know. But it's the only way we can end this. And I'm ready. Whatever it takes." She was certain of this, and she wasn't going to let doubt or anyone derail her.
John hesitated, his thoughts a mix of fear and pride. He knew Shayera, knew her like no one else. He understood the darkness in her past, the drive to prove herself, to finish what she started. But it didn't make the risk any easier to accept. "I don't like it," he said quietly, his voice a low murmur. "But I won't stop you. Just promise me you'll keep your guard up."
Shayera nodded, her jaw clenched as she stood straighter. "Don't worry, I will. I'll end this, one way or another."
The tension in the room was palpable as Shayera's words echoed in the silence. She could feel the weight of every pair of eyes on her, but she refused to let it deter her. Her resolve was unshakable. She had been through too much to back down now, and the stakes were far too high.
John's hand remained on her shoulder for a moment longer, the unspoken words between them heavier than any confrontation she had ever faced. He wanted to say more, to stop her from walking into a potential deathtrap, but he knew her well enough to understand that once Shayera made up her mind, there was no changing it.
"You won't have to do this alone," John finally said, his voice laced with both concern and admiration.
"I know," Shayera replied, her tone softening, but only slightly. "But just keep your distance. This is my fight to finish."
John, ever the protector, stepped back, his hand reluctantly slipping off her shoulder. The silence stretched between them, but his eyes never left her face. She could see the conflict swirling in his gaze—the quiet worry of a man who knew all too well that there was little he could do to change her mind once she had set her course.
"Shayera," J'onn's voice brought her focus back to the present, his calm tone cutting through the thick atmosphere. "We will be ready when the time comes. But remember, sometimes the greatest strength is in knowing when to act and when to wait. If we go into this with our emotions clouding our judgment, we may be playing right into Tarra's hands."
Shayera took a deep breath, allowing his words to sink in. She was no stranger to battle but she had learned over the years that it wasn't just about physical strength. It was about strategy. Patience. Waiting for the right moment to strike.
"I understand that," she said quietly, her eyes flickering to the map once more. The coordinates glowed ominously in the holographic display, the shipping port a silent witness to the upcoming confrontation. She hadn't wanted it to come to this but Tarra had left her no choice.
Mister Terrific stepped forward, his tone more focused now, the hint of worry still present beneath his professionalism. "I'll coordinate with John and Jessica over comms. They'll be in the area, ready to move if you need them. But Shayera's right, if Tarra thinks we're coming in with full force, she'll sense it and retreat. We'll have to be subtle, stealthy."
Shayera gave him a firm nod, her jaw tightening. She wasn't used to this level of tactical coordination coming from the Justice League, but in this situation, it was necessary. It would be a delicate dance, one she was prepared to lead, but she wasn't foolish enough to believe it would go exactly as planned.
As the team began to strategize the final details, John took a step closer to her, his voice low, almost a whisper, "Promise me one thing, Shayera." She turned to face him, her expression softening just a fraction, though her resolve remained steadfast. "Promise me you'll be careful," he said, his eyes searching hers, his voice laced with something more than concern. It was love, but it was also the weight of their shared history—the battles they had fought side by side, the heartache they had suffered together.
Shayera's lips curled into a faint smirk. "I promise, John. Aren't I always careful?"
He exhaled, a breath he didn't realize he was holding, before nodding once more. There was nothing more he could say. Nothing more he could do. She had made up her mind. He then pulled her into a tight hug, one that briefly aggravated her ribs. Shayera winced but didn't pull away, allowing herself a rare moment of vulnerability. The embrace was brief but charged with unspoken words of support, love, and understanding. She felt John's arms around her, his warmth grounding her, and for a brief second, she allowed herself to lean into it.
"Kick her ass Shayera," John whispered, his voice muffled against her hair.
Shayera found herself snorting back a laugh, "That's what I was planning on doing."
As Shayera pulled away from John, the weight of the moment settled in her chest. She had been through so much, and yet, the prospect of facing Tarra again filled her with a cold determination. There was no room for fear now, not with everything she had to protect.
She looked around at the team, her resolve hardening once more. "Alright," Shayera said, turning back to the display. "We make our move at nightfall. Keep the communications tight and stay out of sight. When Tarra shows up, it's just me and her. Understood?"
"Understood," Mister Terrific said with a curt nod. "John and Jessica will be in position. If anything goes wrong, they'll move in immediately."
Shayera gave a tight nod, not meeting anyone's eyes. "It won't go wrong. I won't let it."
The team began to prepare, organizing their roles and positioning. But in the quiet moments that followed, Shayera couldn't shake the feeling that this wouldn't be an ordinary fight. There were too many unknowns, too many risks. And even if she had faced Tarra before, the next encounter would be different.
The lights of San Diego twinkled below, a sprawling city of constant motion, oblivious to the storm that was about to descend. Shayera hovered high above, her wings spread wide as she sailed effortlessly through the night sky. She flew in wide, controlled circles over the city, her keen senses tuned to the slightest disturbance. Below, the city hummed with life, unaware of the looming danger that she was drawing toward it. Her mind was sharp, her focus honed to a razor's edge, every sense alert for the slightest shift in the wind, every muscle tensed for the fight she knew was coming.
She angled her flight downward, slowly descending, making herself an obvious target. Her heart raced, not out of fear, but anticipation. Tarra would be watching, biding her time, waiting for the right moment to strike. Shayera needed to make herself vulnerable, give her the opening she craved.
Her voice came over the commlink, quiet but steady, a whisper of reassurance to John and Jessica, who were stationed not even a mile away from the port. "I'm heading your way now," she said. "Keep your positions. She'll come for me. She has to."
John's voice crackled back, filled with concern but also trust. "Just be careful, Shayera. We'll be watching. Don't do anything reckless."
"I'm not the one who's reckless," Shayera replied, her words calm. "Tarra is. I'll draw her out, and when I do, it's over."
With a controlled burst of speed, Shayera veered toward the heart of the city, gliding through the air like a shadow. She kept her movements erratic, switching directions suddenly, making it harder for Tarra to predict her next move. She needed to create the illusion of vulnerability, of uncertainty.
She was playing a dangerous game but it was the only one she could play.
As Shayera skimmed over a wide stretch of the city, she dropped lower, darting between buildings, making herself an easy target. The further she pushed herself, the more exposed she became but it was exactly what Tarra would expect from a washed up lieutenant. Shayera had to give her the opening, make it seem like she had let her guard down. It was the only way Tarra would take the bait.
Shayera's wings cut through the cool, night air as she approached the old shipping port. The docks were eerily quiet, the faint sound of waves lapping against the hulls of abandoned cargo ships the only noise breaking the stillness. The towering cranes stood as silent sentinels, their skeletal frames casting long shadows under the dim glow of the moon.
She landed lightly on the edge of the main dock, her mace in hand. Shayera stood motionless for a moment, her sharp eyes scanning the area. The docks were a labyrinth of stacked shipping containers, crumbling warehouses, and narrow alleyways. It was a perfect setting for an ambush.
Shayera activated her commlink, her voice low but steady, "I'm in position."
"Copy that," John's voice came through, calm but edged with worry. "Jessica and I are set up on the north perimeter. We've got eyes on the area. No sign of movement yet."
The stillness of the docks was broken only by the occasional creak of a rusted ship and the distant lapping of the waves. There was a coldness to it, an unnatural quiet that seemed to press in on her from all sides. Every corner could be hiding a threat, every shadow a potential strike. This was Tarra's element—a place where she could be anything: the hunter, the ambusher, the shadow.
Shayera gripped her mace tightly, feeling the weight of it in her hand. Her eyes flicked across the maze of containers and derelict warehouses, scanning for any sign of movement. Every instinct screamed at her to stay alert, to be ready for the inevitable. She couldn't afford to let her guard down, not now, not when the stakes were so high.
Jessica's came through her commlink, her concern evident, "Shayera, we're still not seeing anything. Are you sure she's coming?"
"She will," Shayera replied firmly, her voice barely a whisper against the night. "She won't pass up an opportunity like this. Just keep your eyes open."
The seconds stretched into minutes, the quiet around her growing heavier with each passing moment. Shayera's senses were at their peak, every nerve tingling, every muscle coiled. She knew that when Tarra made her move, it would be fast, ruthless.
A faint sound reached her ears. It was barely perceptible at first, then louder, closer. Footsteps. The sound of metal boots on concrete. Her heart skipped a beat as her eyes narrowed, focusing on the distant shadow that had begun to take shape.
Shayera didn't respond. She stepped deeper into the maze of containers, her movements deliberate, controlled. Every step echoed faintly, a calculated signal to her pursuer. She was the prey but she was also the trap. The faint scrape of boots on concrete followed her, and she knew Tarra was circling, watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
A shadow moved at the edge of her vision. Shayera's eyes narrowed, her stance shifting as she quickly spun around. She adjusted her grip on her mace, forcing herself to ignore the flare of pain in her ribs from the sudden movement. "You've always been dramatic, Tarra," she called out, her voice steady, betraying none of the adrenaline coursing through her veins. "Why don't you come out and finish what you started?"
For a moment, there was silence. Then a voice, low and mocking, cut through the darkness. "Finish it? Oh, Hol, I'm just getting started."
Tarra emerged from the shadows, her armor glinting faintly in the moonlight. Her movements were fluid, predatory, her hand resting on the hilt of the mace strapped to her side. "You're making this far too easy. Did you really think I wouldn't see the obvious trap you've set? You might as well have painted a target on your back."
Shayera smirked, her grip on the mace tightening, "And yet, here you are."
Tarra's smile was cold, "Because I enjoy the game. But don't fool yourself into thinking you have the upper hand. I chose to come here. That means I've already won."
The two Thanagarians faced each other. For a moment, neither moved, each gauging the other, waiting for the slightest misstep. Then, with a sudden burst of motion, Tarra lunged, her mace electrified as it arced toward Shayera.
The clash of Nth metal and energy lit up the dark dockyard, the sound reverberating through the still night. Shayera met Tarra's strike head-on, her mace sparking as it caught the blow from the other mace. They moved like two forces of nature, their strikes precise, their movements a deadly dance of skill and experience.
From their vantage point, John and Jessica watched the battle unfold, their positions concealed among the containers. "She's holding her own so far," Jessica murmured, her voice tense. "But Tarra's not holding back either. I wonder how long Shayera will be able to keep this up."
John's jaw tightened. "She doesn't need to hold back. Shayera can handle her." But even as he said it, his fist clenched tightly as his ring came to life, ready to intervene at a moment's notice.
Before Shayera could respond, Tarra lunged, her dagger slicing through the air with lethal precision. Shayera sidestepped but the movement sent a sharp stab of pain through her side. She hissed through gritted teeth, her broken ribs protesting every motion.
Tarra caught the reaction instantly, her smile widening, "Aw, you're still hurt. I can hear it in your breathing. This might be easier than I thought."
Shayera didn't dignify the taunt with a response. Instead, she swung her mace in a wide arc, forcing Tarra to leap back. The weapon crackled with Nth metal energy, the air humming with its power.
"You talk too much," Shayera growled, launching herself forward despite the pain. She brought the mace down with brutal force, aiming for Tarra's shoulder. The blow connected, sending a jolt of energy through Tarra's armor and forcing her to stumble. The armor wasn't the standard one issued by the Thanagarian military. Shayera could tell Tarra had spent years crafting it. Yet she could recognize the traces of Thanagarian design in it. Particularly where she had protected her back, shoulders, arms, and wrists.
Tarra quickly rebounded, her reflexes honed through years of training. She twisted away, slashing upward with her mace once again. Shayera barely managed to deflect the attack, the clash of their weapons sending sparks flying into the night. The impact jarred her arms and her ribs screamed in protest. She fought to keep her face neutral, refusing to give Tarra the satisfaction of seeing her weakness.
The fight was relentless, a deadly whirl of attacks and counters. Shayera's smaller frame gave her an edge in mobility but every movement cost her. Tarra, ever the predator, pressed her advantage, forcing Shayera to dodge and block at a grueling pace.
"You're slowing down," Tarra sneered as she parried a strike. "What's the matter? Life with these humans making you soft?" Shayera's eyes flashed with fury. She swung her mace in a tight, precise arc, forcing Tarra to retreat. Tarra chuckled almost merrily. "Oh, hit a nerve, did I? I wonder what these humans will think when they find out that their precious Hawkgirl didn't make it out of this alive tonight."
The taunt lit a fire in Shayera. Ignoring the searing pain in her ribs, she charged forward, her mace crackling with energy. She aimed low, forcing Tarra off balance, then followed up with a brutal uppercut that sent the other woman sprawling against a stack of containers.
Tarra laughed, shaking her head as she pushed herself up. Blood trickled from her split lower lip but her grin remained. "There's the Shayera Hol I remember. Maybe this will be fun after all."