The room was sterile, suffocating in its artificial stillness. Smooth metallic walls stretched around her, seamless and cold, glowing faintly under the dull red light that pulsed from the ceiling. That cursed red light.
Android 18 sat against the farthest wall, her body stiff, her breaths measured. She wasn't restrained—she didn't need to be. Whatever tech powered this place was leeching her strength, draining her core energy with every second that passed. She could feel it, the sickening pull against her very being, leaving her sluggish, powerless.
Her fingers curled into fists.
Not powerless. Never powerless.
The sound of pressurized locks disengaging snapped her attention to the entrance. A door she hadn't seen until now—seamlessly blending with the wall—slid open with a quiet hiss. The air shifted, sterile and clinical, as a figure stepped inside.
Professor Ivo.
Thin, wiry, his face lined with age but eyes sharp with unfiltered curiosity. He walked with the careful precision of a man who knew he was in the presence of something extraordinary.
"Fascinating," he murmured, clasping his hands together as he studied her like a scientist marveling at a rare specimen. "Truly fascinating."
Android 18 didn't move. She didn't even blink. She simply met his gaze with an icy stare, willing her body to feel something other than exhaustion.
"We've met before" he said. "I dont suppose you remember me?"
No answer.
Ivo smiled, as if pleased by her defiance. "Your existence is pure genius," he continued, stepping closer, unbothered by the danger she would pose under normal circumstances. "An elegant blend of human biology and artificial perfection. You aren't just an android—you're something beyond classification. Something no human mind on this planet could have conceived."
His voice was laced with admiration, but she could hear the undercurrent beneath it. The obsession.
He tilted his head, as if considering his own words. "Tell me, do you even realize what you are?"
She didn't respond.
He exhaled, amused by her silence. "Your physiology alone is leagues beyond anything this world has ever produced. My Amazo project was meant to be the pinnacle of evolution, but now… now I see I was thinking far too small." He gestured toward her. "You're living proof of what comes next. The next step in human evolution. Why rid ourselves of the human body, when we can enhance... no, perfect it."
She scoffed, finally breaking her silence. "All I see is a pathetic old man drooling over something he doesn't understand."
Ivo chuckled, entirely unfazed. "Oh, I understand enough." He stepped closer, his voice lowering. "And I intend to understand more."
She clenched her fists, but the energy-draining field had taken too much from her. She hated the weakness in her limbs, the sluggishness in her body. Hated that she was forced to listen.
Ivo smiled.
"This is just the beginning."
Ivo took another step forward, his gaze roaming over her like she was a specimen under a microscope. Then, without hesitation, he reached out and placed a hand against her shoulder.
A slow, calculated touch. One that was not meant for comfort, but for study.
Something inside her ignited.
How dare he touch me.
Her body tensed, but the cursed red glow above her continued its quiet work, keeping her strength just out of reach. She wanted to snap his wrist, crush his fingers, wipe that smug look off his face—but her limbs felt heavier than lead, her power leeched away into the walls around her.
She settled for fixing him with a glare so sharp it could cut steel.
"When my brother finds me," she said, voice laced with venom, "you'll regret this."
Ivo chuckled, his grip lingering for a moment longer than necessary before he pulled away. "Oh, I'm counting on that."
Android 18's glare didn't waver, but inside, her mind raced.
"I know he'll come for you," Ivo continued, circling her like a predator admiring its catch. "Your brother is… fascinating in his own right. I've studied him briefly, while you were asleep. The way his energy flows—so similar to yours, yet different. Complementary, even."
He stopped, regarding her with quiet reverence. "You and he—two parts of something bigger."
18 narrowed her eyes.
"But there's a missing piece," Ivo murmured, almost to himself. He exhaled through his nose, displeased. "I can't quite put my finger on it. Something… incomplete. An equation missing its final variable."
His eyes locked onto hers, searching for something deeper.
"Tell me," he mused, "is there another like you?"
Android 18's expression didn't change, but deep inside, a flicker of unease settled in her gut.
Ivo smiled. "No matter. If the third piece exists, I'll find it. In time."
He took a step back, satisfied for now. "For now, I have you. And soon enough, I'll have him, too."
The door behind him slid open with a quiet hiss, casting a sliver of sterile light into the room.
"You and your brother may be remarkable," Ivo said, his voice full of certainty. "But evolution is a process. And I intend to take it to its final step, and for that, I need to open you up and look inside you... every inch."
With that, he turned and walked through the door, leaving Android 18 alone in the suffocating glow of the red light.
"Amazos to the Rescue: Luthor's Androids Bring Order to Gotham and Beyond!" (The Daily Planet)
- Crime rates plummet as Luthor's AI-driven enforcers prove more effective than the Justice League ever was.
"Metropolis Sees Historic Low Crime Rates Thanks to Luthor's Security Initiative!" (The Metropolis Tribune)
- The Justice League may have fought aliens, but Amazo units are winning the war on crime—one city at a time.
"No Capes, No Problem: Amazo Patrols Cut Crime by 60% in Gotham's Worst Districts!" (The Gotham Gazette)
- Gotham's criminals are learning the hard way—there's no escaping justice
wind howled past him, salty and cold, as he hovered over the endless expanse of dark water. The rain was a gentle drizzle, thin needles against his skin, but it did nothing to steady the pounding in his chest. His breath was controlled—his thoughts were not.
This was the spot.
The exact coordinates from her tracking device. The last pulse before the signal went silent.
But there was nothing here.
No wreckage. No debris. Just the endless, shifting ocean stretching in every direction. His eyes swept the water below, his mind racing through possibilities. The signal had been strong—not fading, not glitching—which meant it had been cut off abruptly. Deliberately.
Had she gone under?
His jaw clenched. If she had fallen, the device should've still been transmitting—at least for a little while longer. The tech was designed for that, waterproof to depths he didn't even want to consider. But there wasn't even a weak trace of her tracker.
His fingers twitched at his side.
Something didn't add up. He's anger and desperation struggling to be kept at bay.
He closed his eyes, focusing, stretching his senses outward. Listening. The rain pattered softly against the waves, the wind whispered through the sky, and beneath it all… something shifted. A flicker of movement far below. Too deep for the surface to betray it, but it was there.
His eyes snapped open, pulse hammering.
He wasn't alone out here.
And neither had she been. It has been two days.
The shift in the water wasn't natural.
Android 17 barely had time to react before something shot out from the ocean—a metallic blur, fast, precise. He twisted in midair, dodging just as a second figure rocketed up behind him.
Amazo units.
He floated back, assessing. They hovered at equal distance, featureless faces staring, synthetic bodies gleaming beneath the dim light. Not just drones. These were fully realized models—advanced, efficient, and worst of all, adaptable.
They had been waiting for him.
The first one moved, a flash of speed that nearly rivaled his own. 17 met the strike with a raised forearm, absorbing the impact before twisting into a counterattack. His fist connected, sending the android spinning back through the air, but the second was already in motion. A golden energy beam streaked toward him.
He barely dodged in time, the blast skimming past his shoulder and detonating in the water below. He clenched his fists. Their strength was impressive, but nothing he hadn't dealt with before.
"Alright, let's see what you've got."
He launched forward, fist leading, driving into the first Amazo's torso. The machine barely had time to recover before 17 followed up with a vicious roundhouse kick, sending it flying. He twisted, pivoting midair to block an incoming strike from the second one. Their movements were fast, calculated, but he could still read them.
For now.
He ducked, spun, and countered with a concussive blast of energy from his palm. The force sent the android tumbling back. 17 pressed his advantage, closing the distance in an instant. A flurry of strikes followed—sharp, efficient blows aimed at their joints, their weak points.
Then, everything shifted.
A red glow erupted from the first Amazo's chest, a low hum vibrating through the air. Before 17 could react, the energy expanded, bathing him in its crimson light. His body locked up. A sickening sensation coiled around him—a pull, deep and relentless.
Draining him.
His strength wavered, his limbs suddenly heavier. His energy—his power—was being siphoned.
It took all his strength just to stay afloat.
The second Amazo approached. And this time, 17 couldn't stop it.
His body felt heavier by the second, his strength slipping away as the crimson glow continued to drain him. His fingers twitched, but his limbs refused to move, locked in the relentless grip of energy absorption.
The second Amazo closed in, fist raised for a finishing blow.
Then, the sky split open with a thunderous BOOM.
A swirling vortex of light exploded into existence behind the android, warping the very air around it. The Amazo barely had time to turn before a figure emerged—armor gleaming, black hair whipping in the wind, eyes burning with determination.
Donna Troy.
Her sword plunged forward, piercing clean through the android's back. Sparks erupted from the wound as the blade drove deeper, impaling circuits and synthetic muscle. The Amazo spasmed violently, its red glow flickering, and for the first time, its grip on 17 weakened.
The pull on his energy faded.
17 sucked in a breath as strength slowly seeped back into his body. His vision sharpened. His fingers curled into fists. He was still weak, but it was enough.
The second Amazo turned its attention to Donna, lunging with mechanical precision. She met it head-on, twisting her blade free from the first android before raising her shield just in time to absorb a brutal strike. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the air, but Donna held firm. With a fierce battle cry, she countered, slashing upward in a silver arc. The Amazo staggered back.
17 gritted his teeth, forcing himself upright. The first android, though wounded, was still active. Its body jittered, limbs twitching as it struggled to reboot.
Not happening.
With a sharp breath, he surged forward, summoning what energy he had left. He drove his knee into the android's core, shattering the damaged plating. A second strike—an energy-charged punch—sent it hurtling toward the ocean below. It crashed hard, sinking into the depths.
One down.
He turned just in time to see Donna holding her own against the remaining Amazo, parrying and striking with swift precision. But it was adapting, its movements adjusting to match her speed. It wouldn't be long before it started countering her.
17 clenched his fists. His strength was returning, and fast.
Time to finish this.
He shot forward, appearing beside Donna in an instant. She caught his glance and gave a quick nod—no words needed. She feinted left, drawing the android's attention for a split second.
That was all he needed.
17 unleashed a devastating energy blast point-blank, striking the android square in the chest. The force of it sent cracks spidering across its metal frame. Donna followed up immediately, leaping into the air and driving her sword downward in a final, decisive strike.
The Amazo shuddered—then exploded in a fiery burst of light.
Silence settled over the ocean, the only sound the distant roll of waves.
17 exhaled, rolling his shoulders. His power was fully back now, and the weight of exhaustion faded. He turned to Donna, nodding slightly.
"Thank you."
She sheathed her sword, crossing her arms. "You looked like you needed a hand."
He glanced at the ocean below, where the first android had vanished into the depths. This wasn't over.
Donna stepped closer, her voice quieter. "We'll find her."
17 was silent for a moment, then gave a small nod.
"Let's take one back to the Tower," he muttered.
The wind howled around them, the storm still gathering in the distance. The fight was won, but the real battle was just beginning.
The steady hum of Titans Tower's systems filled the room, punctuated by the occasional beep from Cyborg's workstation. Rain tapped against the reinforced glass of the common area, streaking down in shimmering trails. Beyond the windows, the city lights flickered against the night, but inside, the weight in the air was unmistakable.
Android 17 leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his sharp gaze fixed on the holographic display in the center of the room. He wasn't the type to sit around talking, especially not when his sister was missing. Every second wasted here felt like another second too long.
Across from him, Donna Troy sat at the long conference table, her sword resting beside her. The enchanted metal caught the glow of the overhead lights, its surface gleaming faintly. She watched him carefully, reading the tension in his posture.
At the head of the table, Dick Grayson—Nightwing—studied the rotating schematics that Cyborg had pulled up. His mask was pulled back, revealing tired but focused eyes. The display flickered, showing the blueprint of an Amazo unit. But unlike the standard models, this one had something new.
The core pulsed red.
"Amazo units," Nightwing exhaled, shaking his head. "Built to replicate metahuman abilities. But this?" He gestured to the glowing core. "This is different."
Cyborg, arms folded, nodded grimly. "Yeah. Standard Amazo tech copies powers, but this thing?" He zoomed in on the readings. "It was made specifically for you. And if it drained you, 17…" His cybernetic eye pulsed as he analyzed the data. "Then there's a real chance that's what took your sister."
17's jaw tightened. His fingers curled into fists. "Then we find them. Now."
Donna's gaze flicked to him, calm but firm. "We will. But we need to figure out who's behind this first. Those Amazos weren't just random—they were waiting for you."
"That's what bothers me," Nightwing muttered, swiping through the data. "The energy-drain effect is bad enough, but you're not even a metahuman. Your power source isn't the same as ours. So how did they figure out how to drain it?"
Silence.
17's eyes narrowed, his mind racing. His sister was strong—stronger than most of the so-called "heroes" in this world. If someone had specifically designed these units to counter their kind…
"Ivo," he said flatly.
Cyborg's expression darkened. "Professor Ivo built the first Amazo. But Luthor owns the designs now. He's producing in bulk, and these models—" He tapped the display. "These aren't off the shelf. Someone upgraded them."
Nightwing turned to 17. "You're sure it's Ivo?"
17 didn't hesitate. "When I came to this world, I broke him out of prison and forced him to help my sister." His voice was low, edged with something dangerous. "He's the only one who's seen our tech up close." The room began to shake "I'm gonna rip his head off!"
Nightwing and Cyborg exchanged looks.
"That does explain a few things," Donna admitted. "Could you stop that?" She looked to 17.
The room stopped shaking.
Cyborg exhaled. "So Ivo made the tech, but Luthor must be funding this. Those units? Each one has to be worth at least a couple hundred mil. And if they were willing to burn through two just to get you…" His cybernetic eye flashed as he processed new data. "He must be planning something."
Nightwing leaned forward, bracing his hands against the table. "Tower" he said "call the Watch Tower."
The room fell into a heavy silence.
Then, 17 pushed off the wall. A flicker of blue energy pulsed around his fingers. His eyes met Nightwing's, unwavering.
"Luthor must be a few moves ahead, so let's catch up."
"Justice Without Oversight? Experts Question Luthor's Expanding Role in National Security" (The Daily Planet, Opinion Column)
- "These machines answer to Luthor alone. Shouldn't someone else have a say?" – Professor Emil Hamilton
"Amazo Units Authorized for Civilian Monitoring – A Necessary Precaution?" (The Washington Report)
- Luthor assures the public that "only potential threats" will be flagged, but privacy advocates remain skeptical.
"Metahuman Arrests at an All-Time High – Are Amazo Units Targeting Vigilantes?" (The Blüdhaven Post)
- "I was stopping a robbery when one of them attacked me like I was the criminal." – Anonymous Gotham vigilante
The Grease Nebula sat in the shadow of Svelte's northern ice ridge, its neon sign flickering against the deep violet sky. The moon's thin atmosphere barely carried sound, but the moment someone pushed through the pressurized airlock, they were swallowed by the familiar chaos of a diner that never slept.
The scent of charred protein slabs, fried starch curls, and something metallic—maybe ozone, maybe blood—filled the air. Booths and bar stools were packed with travelers from every dark corner of the sector. Some wore tattered trader uniforms, others dripped in corporate exo-silk, but the real eye-catchers were the ones who looked like they had crawled out of nightmares.
At the counter, a Xolthan mercenary loomed over a bowl of writhing, tentacled larvae. His four mandibles clicked together in anticipation before he dropped his massive, chitinous head and slurped the entire thing down in one hideous gulp. Beside him, a reptilian Kalvathi with obsidian scales stirred something that smoked aggressively, its surface rippling like liquid mercury.
Near the back, a hulking figure occupied an entire booth—seven feet of twisted muscle, covered in bio-synthetic armor that pulsed faintly under the diner's dim lighting. Two secondary arms folded across its torso while the primary ones methodically dismantled a triple-stacked synth-meat burger, dipping it into a viscous black sauce that hissed upon contact with the table. The booth across from it remained empty. No one was stupid enough to sit there.
The server droid glided between tables on magnetized treads, taking orders in a voice that had once been smooth and automated but now carried the crackling rasp of age and a few bad wiring jobs. "What'll it be, traveler? House special is the Nebula Hash—one hundred percent unidentifiable protein."
Overhead, the cracked speaker system warbled out an old space-blues tune, almost drowned out by the chatter, the clink of cutlery, and the occasional snarl from a species that didn't appreciate being bumped into.
Just another night at The Grease Nebula.
The booth near the viewport was bathed in the eerie glow of Svelte's distant sun, a yellow star that cast long, wavering shadows. Seated there, a woman with golden-blonde hair and a man with jet-black hair, both clad in deep crimson, looked almost like an illusion—what looked like two human figures in a place where humans are rarely seen.
Their table was an overflowing mess of plates and bowls, each filled with something unrecognizable. A stack of charred, bone-riddled meat glistened under the low lights, a bubbling stew oozed neon-green fumes, and a tall glass of thick, inky liquid trembled as if still alive.
The blonde woman leaned back against the booth, one arm draped over the seat, fingers tapping a slow rhythm. Her eyes, sharp as broken glass, swept over the room—not with fear, but with a predator's amusement. Across from her, the dark-haired man chewed on a strip of something rubbery, it's fangs flashing for the briefest moment before he swallowed.
"Did you really have to order the entire menu?" she asked, voice smooth, but edged with disgust.
The man exhaled sharply, setting down his drink. "Yeah," he muttered. "I haven't eaten since I arrived in this universe."
Kara smirked. "We don't need to." She nudged a plate aside, clearing space between them. "The ring keeps us nourished."
Gohan tilted his head, considering her for a long moment before his lips curled into a slow, knowing grin. "That's not the point."
He reached for another bite of food. The red glow around their fingers pulsed, ever so faintly.
Kara's fingers drummed absently on the edge of the table as she scanned the diner, eyes flickering from one shadowy patron to the next. The usual mix of filth and savagery. Some of them watching her and her companion too long, others pretending not to.
"Why'd we stop here anyway?" she asked, her voice just above the hum of the diner. "This place is out of our way" She reached for a drink she hadn't touched yet, swirling the thick black liquid before taking a sip… "That's gross"
"I told you" He said. "Someones following us."
"Who do you think?"
He didn't answer immediately. He was chewing. Again. She barely registered it, idly flicking a fingertip against the rim of her cup. "I'm not sure" he said. "Doesn't feel like anyone I know. Not strong either."
She leaned forward slightly, her elbow against the table. "Then why do we care?"
No response.
Her brow furrowed as she finally looked at him properly. His jaw worked as he tore into another slab of unidentifiable protein, some bone still attached. His fingers—clean a moment ago—were now slick with oil and something glowing faintly blue. A gnawed husk of something leathery lay discarded by his elbow.
She blinked.
The table had been full just minutes ago. Now, half of it was gone. Not just the smaller things—entire plates were stripped bare, bowls upended, the once-steaming pile of ribs reduced to gnawed remnants.
She frowned. "What the hell man?"
He glanced up, still chewing. His eyes, shadowed under his dark hair, held no shame—only mild amusement.
"What?" he said after swallowing. He reached for another piece of something squirming, biting it in half with a satisfying crunch.
Her gaze flickered between him and the table.
"How—when—" She narrowed her eyes, now genuinely perplexed. "I didn't even see you—"
He shrugged. "You were talking." Another bite. Another plate emptied.
She leaned back, staring at him like he was some strange new creature she had never seen before.
"How did that even fit inside you… Do you ever stop?" she asked.
"I told you, I haven't eaten since I got here."
She exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. "Disgusting."
He reached for another plate.
They kept speaking.
He kept eating.
Eventually the last plate hit the table with a dull clink, stripped bare like all the others. Gohan exhaled, long and slow, slumping back into the booth with a satisfied groan. One hand rested on his stomach, the other gripping a half-finished glass of something strong enough to make a lesser being hallucinate.
Kara had stopped pretending not to be entertained. A smirk played at her lips as she leaned forward on her elbows, swirling her own drink idly. "You look like you just devoured an entire star system."
He let out a breathy chuckle, tipping his head back against the booth. "Might as well have," he admitted. "I think I hit the event horizon about three plates ago."
She snorted into her drink before taking another sip. The bitter burn warmed her insides, and it was clear the same effect had taken hold of him. His usual sharp-edged demeanor had softened—not gone, just loosened, like a blade resting in its sheath instead of drawn for a kill.
"You know," she mused, tapping a finger against her glass, "I honestly thought you were just inhaling food out of spite. Like, I'm gonna consume everything on this table just to prove I can."
His laughter was low and genuine this time, his red eyes glinting. "You should have seen my dad. Now HE could eat."
She arched a brow. "Mm-hm."
His grin widened as he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table. "You know I don't believe you right?"
She shot him an incredulous look. "What are you even talking about?"
He grabbed his drink and downed the rest in one go, then slammed the glass onto the table with a satisfied sigh. "The glasses. The hair." He gestured vaguely at her face, eyes squinting slightly, as if trying to solve a great cosmic mystery. "I refuse to believe you fly around in broad daylight, on live broadcasts, as Supergirl—then just throw on a pair of glasses, tie up your hair, and suddenly, poof! No one recognizes you? Come on. They have to know."
That did it.
She burst out laughing, a real, full-bodied laugh that shook her shoulders. It wasn't the usual sharp, dry amusement she doled out in small doses—it was genuine, caught somewhere between the drinks and the sheer ridiculousness of the conversation. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was just the rare chance to breathe between everything else in their lives, but it felt good.
"Alright, alright," she said, still grinning. "I'll show you."
A thin, flickering red aura shimmered around her as a pair of glasses materialized on her face. Then, with practiced ease, she gathered her golden hair, twisting it up into a neat ponytail. The same red energy coiled around it, solidifying into bands that held it in place. She tilted her head, smirking.
"How about now?"
For a second, he had nothing.
No snarky remark. No quip.
Because as simple as it was—a pair of glasses, a tied-up ponytail—he felt the shift. He could still see her, of course, but something about it was… different. Maybe it was the way the loose strands framed her face, or how the curve of her jaw stood out more, or how it suddenly made her striking blue eyes even sharper. The flickering neon light of the diner caught in her hair, giving it an almost ethereal glow, and—
He realized he was staring.
He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat and reaching for his empty glass as if that would somehow distract him. "Yeah, uh… Nope. Totally unrecognizable," he muttered.
Her smirk deepened, eyes dancing with amusement. She knew.
"Oh?" she teased. "So it does work?"
He huffed, averting his gaze, suddenly very interested in the empty plates on the table. "Sure. Whatever."
Her laughter rang out again, soft and knowing.
She leaned back against the booth, arms crossing as she studied him. "You're full of it."
He shot her a look, deadpan. "And you're delusional if you think some glasses are stopping anyone from putting two and two together."
She shrugged, still grinning. "Well, it's worked so far."
He scoffed, shaking his head, but the smile tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed him.
The laughter between them lingered, the warmth of alcohol softening the ever-present weight of their rings. For once, the two of them felt like something almost normal—two people in a seedy diner, swapping stories over too much food and too many drinks. But it didn't last. It never did.
The airlock hissed.
It was a subtle thing, barely audible over the din of clinking plates and murmured conversations, but both of them felt it—the shift. A ripple through the room's energy, like a tremor before a quake.
Kara was the first to glance up. A woman had stepped inside, pausing just beyond the threshold as the diner's stale, recycled air rushed to meet her. She was tall, clad in a fitted coat that had seen better days, its deep navy fabric streaked with dust from a long journey. A hood rested against her shoulders, and underneath, sleek metallic plating lined her arms and neck—worn but functional cybernetics, the kind that hinted at a past spent on the run.
Her eyes—sharp, quick—scanned the room, and when they landed on Kara and Gohan, they stayed.
"...We've got company," Kara murmured, her voice quiet but clear.
Gohan exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders back like he was preparing for an inevitable headache. He didn't bother looking. He didn't need to. "Yeah," he muttered. "Here we go."
Kara, ignoring him, leaned forward slightly, her red-ringed fingers still wrapped around her drink. The woman moved with purpose now, weaving through the crowd. She wasn't sneaking. She wasn't hesitating. She was coming straight for them.
Gohan finally looked up as she reached their booth. His expression was flat, unimpressed. "Whatever it is," he said, before she could even open her mouth, "no."
The woman didn't react. If she was put off by his bluntness, she didn't show it. Her gaze flicked between the two of them, assessing, calculating. Then she took the seat across from them, unfazed.
Kara smirked. I like her already.
The woman set her hands on the table, metal fingers tapping once before she spoke. "I need your help."
Kara's smirk faded slightly, her expression sharpening.
Gohan, on the other hand, leaned back against the booth with an exaggerated sigh. "Yeah, you and everyone else in this galaxy." He reached for his drink, found it empty, and scowled at it like it had personally betrayed him. "Not interested."
The woman didn't move. "Please. You're the only one strong enough to stop them"
Kara arched a brow. "Them?"
"Please," she repeated, barely above a whisper. "My planet… it's fallen. My people are suffering. They send me to find help."
Kara sat up, setting her glass down. "Slow down. Start from the beginning."
The girl swallowed hard, nodding. "My home—Veltara IV. The Yellow Lanterns took it. They—" Her voice hitched, and she wrapped her arms around herself. "They came out of nowhere, the yellow hue took over the sky. They took our leaders, silenced anyone who resisted."
Gohan frowned. "This seems like a job for the the Green Lanterns. You should try them."
The girl—her desperation raw in her eyes—leaned forward as if to plead again, but Gohan was already turning, stepping away and making for the exit. Kara hesitated, glancing at the girl, then cursed under her breath and went after him.
Outside, the thin sky loomed overhead, painted in the dull glow of neon signs. The streets pulsed with the usual chaotic rhythm of off-world travelers, smugglers, and bounty hunters looking for their next score. Gohan kept walking, hands shoved in his pockets, jaw clenched.
Then Kara stepped in front of him, arms crossed.
"You're seriously just gonna walk away?"
"Yes."
She scoffed. "That's not who you are."
Gohan met her stare, his expression unreadable. "You have no idea who I am?"
She pushed closer. "I know you, Gohan. If you really didn't care, you wouldn't be so pissed right now."
"We're this close to Odym" he muttered, stepping past her.
Her hand shot out, grabbing his wrist. "Why are you running?"
He pulled his arm free. "I'm not— I'm tired Kara. Everyone in this damn universe wants something from me."
She narrowed her eyes.
"People need us." she said, resting her hand on his shoulder.
He kept walking.
Kara didn't move. "So that's it?"
He sighed. "Yeah."
Then he lifted off the ground.
She was on him in an instant.
Her fingers clamped around his ankle, yanking him back down before he could gain any real height. He landed hard, stumbling as she hovered above him, still gripping his foot like she had no intention of letting go.
"Kara," he said warningly.
She frowned. "Not letting you leave."
He groaned. "Oh, for—" He kicked his foot out, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make her loosen her grip. She twisted midair, landing smoothly a few feet away, eyes flashing.
"Alright," Gohan muttered, rolling his shoulders. "Guess we're doing this."
Kara answered by launching at him.
Their fight started like a dance—Gohan ducking, sidestepping, deflecting her blows with lazy ease. He wasn't taking it seriously. She, on the other hand, was all in. Her hits came fast, her movements fluid, driven by conviction. Every punch, every kick, every blast of heat vision was a demand: Do something. Fight back.
And still, he didn't.
"Tch." She shot forward, her palm cracking against his cheek. His head barely turned. He gave her a flat look. "Really?"
She grit her teeth. "Stop holding back!"
He caught her wrist as she went for another hit. "Kara, come on—"
She wrenched free, spun, and tackled him. They slammed into a rooftop, metal groaning beneath their impact.
For a second, they didn't move.
Gohan lay on his back, slightly winded, Kara straddling his waist, hands pinned against his chest. Her breath came fast, her hair a golden mess, strands sticking to the sweat on her brow.
Something shifted.
Her weight pressed into him, and he suddenly became acutely aware of how close she was. The heat of her, the way her fingers curled against the fabric of his suit, the way her chest rose and fell, her heart hammering against his.
He swallowed.
She was staring at him, blue eyes fierce with anger.
"Say it," she whispered.
His voice came out lower than intended. "Say what?"
"That you don't care."
He opened his mouth—then shut it.
She tilted her head, just slightly. "Yeah. That's what I thought."
A muscle ticked in his jaw. "...Dammit."
She grinned.
And with that, he got to his feet, brushing himself off, already knowing—this was going to be a long mission.
Hope you guys are well. I'm trying something new which I've never done before. And that it building up character relationships. I hope you guys like it, some people having even been sending me DM's to request character pairings. It's not my strong point but I'm trying. I hope you guys like it. Keep well.