Nova: The Un-Animated Series

By Jack Bronson

Episode 9: Who Took the Bomp?

Scene 1: The Deep End

The blast left a ringing in Dani’s ears.

Kara’s shouts, the wind—everything else came through muffled and distant.

Her breath rasped loud in her own head.

Dust drifted across the ranch yard. The shape in front of her—her dad—turned with stiff, mechanical precision. His head tilted, too slow, too deliberate. The skin along his jaw peeled back in a clean split, revealing chrome mandibles and a flash of cyan light behind the eyes. The sight froze her completely. Dani couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t even blink.

Kara’s voice finally cut through the static. “Dani! Hey—Dani! We gotta go. Now!”

Dani blinked, the world rushing back in. “Wha—? But my dad—”

“That’s not your dad, Dani.” Kara’s hand gripped her arm, firm, urgent. “I don’t know what that is—but it’s not your dad.”

Dani barely had time to nod before Kara’s arm wrapped around her, and they lifted off the ground. Wind tore at Dani’s hair as the Ranch shrank beneath them. She clung tighter to Kara.

“Nova!” Kara’s voice was sharper now, calling down.

He was still in the same spot—feet planted, eyes locked on the thing wearing Dani’s father’s face.The thing’s left arm folded in and reformed into a cannon. Cyan energy built inside, pulsing.

“Nova!”

The cannon fired.

The beam hit him dead in the chest, shoving him back hard enough to carve trenches in the dirt. The glow around his suit flared brighter, fighting the cyan beam until it finally cut off.

From above, Kara scanned the field—movement caught her eye. Figures sprinted across the pasture, vaulting the fence in perfect unison. Neighbors. Ranch hands. People she recognized—

all of them with the same cyan glow in their eyes.

Kara landed on the barn roof, setting Dani down gently. “Stay here. Don’t move.”

Before Dani could answer, Kara was gone—a streak of red and white. The air cracked as she hit the ground beside Nova, dirt jumping from the shock.

Nova lowered his arms. The blast had burned a hole straight through his civilian clothes. Dirt and smoke rolled off him as faint gold light bled from the suit beneath.

“Kara—get Dani to safety,” he said, steady, eyes fixed on the android.

“There’s a full wave of these things heading right for us,” Kara said, heart in her throat. “I’m not leaving you.”

Across the yard, the fence splintered as a swarm of “neighbors” and farmhands poured through, all lit with the same cold cyan glow. They moved in the same rhythm. Same stride. Same blank faces.

Nova raised his hands. Golden energy flared in his palms and detonated outward. The front rows lifted off their feet and slammed into the dirt. He turned to Kara.

“Take Mother Box. She will open a Boom Tube and evacuate you and Dani.”

They slammed into the ground and came back up together—like puppets yanked upright.

Arms twisted the wrong way, then snapped back into place. Skin along their jaws split cleanly open as metal pushed through, teeth folding aside like they never mattered.

Familiar faces—neighbors, friends—peeled open into machines.

“I’m not leaving you,” Kara said, jaw set.

“This is what I was made for.”

He never looked away from the oncoming swarm.

The thing’s cannon lit again. Nova blurred forward and fired straight into the barrel. The arm blew apart in a burst of molten metal. In one motion, he grabbed the facsimile by the chest and hurled it into the oncoming swarm.

“Mother Box—go with Kara. Keep them safe.”

PING!

Mother Box lifted from his shoulder and drifted to Kara’s, humming.

PING! PING!

“Go!” Nova shouted, already turning back to meet the horde.

He disappeared under them, his gold light swallowed by the wave.

Kara swallowed hard. She looked up—Dani was curled on the barn roof, knees to her chest, shaking. Kara shot upward, scooped Dani into her arms, and held her close.

Dani buried her face in Kara’s shoulder, trembling. Kara kept a hand on the back of her head and didn’t let go.

“It’s okay,” Kara whispered. “I got you.”

They lifted into the air.

“We’re going to my place,” Kara said, steadier now. “I need to suit up—and check on my aunt and uncle.”

Above them, the cyan dome curved across the sky, tinting the world as Kara climbed higher. Below, the ranch had gone quiet. The cyan shimmer swallowed the yard, but inside it, Nova’s light kept flaring—then disappearing—then flaring again.

Scene 2: Home Is Where The Heart Is

They landed hard, dust kicking up around them. The Kent farm stood exactly as it had earlier today, lying quiet under the cyan tint of the sky.

Kara set Dani down gently.

Her legs buckled immediately.

“Kara... wha—what the fuck is going on?”

“I don’t know,” Kara said, honest.

PING! PING!

Kara knelt beside her and pulled her into a hug. “But I’m gonna figure this out.” Dani shook against her shoulder. “I’m calling for backup,” Kara said.

Kara stood, facing the floating Mother Box. “Hey—can you reach the Watchtower?”

PING.

Mother Box drifted closer, its circle glowing brighter—until an image flickered into shape.

J’onn J’onzz appeared in the light, startled.

“Supergirl?”

Kara blinked. The transmission was so clean it almost looked real. “Hey—J’onn. I’m in Smallville. There’s a massive dome over the town. Looks like people were replaced with androids. I don’t know who’s behind it, but we need help. Is Superman around?”

“Superman is off-world,” J’onn said. “He’s en route to Thanagar. I’ll dispatch the Titans.”

“Okay—tell them a teleporter might still work. I don’t know if this dome is to keep us in or keep you out.”

J’onn paused, eyes shifting off-screen. “Supergirl, I can see the dome. It’s alien in origin.”

Kara exhaled. “Great. Tell the Titans I’ll be at Smallville High—assuming they can get in.”

“Be safe, Kara.”

The hologram faded out. Mother Box’s glow softened to a warm gold.

Kara looked down at Dani and helped her up from the dirt. “C’mon. Let’s see if my aunt and uncle are okay.”

As they climbed the porch steps, Kara pulled Dani closer. “We’re going to figure this out. I promise.”

PING! PING!

Kara glanced at Mother Box hovering by her shoulder. “Is there a way for you to just… talk?”

PING.

“Okay, look—I don’t know what you’re trying to say, but we’re going back for Nova. Soon.”

PING.

Kara pushed the front door open. Mother Box floated in behind her, staying close to her shoulder as Dani stepped inside.

“Aunt Martha? Uncle Jon?”

No answer. Only the slow, steady ticking of the living room clock.

“They must be out back.”

PING! PING!

Kara hesitated—then glanced at Dani. “C’mon. Let’s go upstairs.”

They climbed the steps, the wood creaking under their feet. In Kara’s room, Dani sat on the edge of the bed while Kara peeled off her jacket and jeans, moving with quiet urgency.

She pulled on the blue skirt and white crop top, tightening her boots. Mother Box hovered silently nearby as she slipped on her gloves and turned to the window.

The yard was empty. No movement. No Jonathan. No Martha.

She turned from the window, stepping over clothes scattered across the hardwood. Hot pink walls. Sneakers kicked by the dresser, some half-painted beside open markers. Her jeans lay crumpled by the desk. She scooped them up. The pink chair bumped the desk, and her dual monitors shook, webcam and mic rattling against the stand.

She dug into the pocket and found her phone. “Maybe I should call them…” She held the phone to her ear. 

Downstairs, something buzzed. 

A hum. 

A phone vibrating. 

Kara froze. She ended the call.

Kara crossed the room and yanked open her closet. She pulled out a baseball bat and pressed it into Dani’s hands.

“Stay here,” she said. Then, to Mother Box: “Watch her.”

PING.

Kara took off her glasses, set them on the nightstand, and stepped into the hall.

The house was still. Nothing moved.

She headed for the staircase.

Halfway down, she stopped.

Jonathan and Martha stood at the bottom of the stairs, side by side, staring straight up at her. Their eyes were wide. Their smiles too big. Too fixed.

Martha clasped her hands together. “Kara! You’re home!”

Jonathan grinned. “Where have you been, kiddo?”

Martha tilted her head. “We were worried sick about you.”

Kara stayed at the landing, jaw tight. “You guys knew where I was.”

Her eyes narrowed. She looked past skin, past fabric—straight through their chests.

No heartbeats.

Martha started up the stairs. Jonathan followed.

“Oh, Rao…” Kara breathed. “Stay back. Whoever you are—stay back.”

Martha’s voice flattened. “Enough, Kara. We are your aunt and uncle.”

They kept climbing.

Kara’s eyes flared red. “I said stay back!”

Behind her, Dani’s voice trembled.

“Kara…?”

“Stay in my room, Dani,” Kara said, eyes still locked forward.

“You have brought company?” Martha asked, voice suddenly bright and cheery.

“Would your friend like to stay for din-ner, Kara?”

Kara’s jaw tightened. She exhaled hard. The blast hit both droids and hurled them back down the stairs.

They hit hard—then rose again, limbs twitching.

Android Martha wagged a finger. “Tsk tsk. Don’t be ungrateful, dear.”

Her elbow bent the wrong way. Metal joints snapped open as a cannon unfolded from her arm. Cyan light gathered inside.

The beam fired.

Kara moved before the sound caught up—vanishing from the stairwell and reappearing at the base of the steps. She drove a fist into Martha’s jaw with a thunderous crack.

Behind her, Android Jonathan twitched back to life. Its movements were stiff, puppet-like—but fast. It lunged and locked its arms around her, metal joints whining as it squeezed.

Kara gritted her teeth and wrenched one arm free. She seized its wrist—

and ripped.

The hand tore clean off, wires snapping, coolant spraying silver across the stairs. The jagged end sparked.

She spun and drove the broken piece straight into its chest. The impact crackled with cyan light. Its eyes flickered—then died.

Kara barely caught her breath before another grip clamped around her throat. Martha hauled her up and slammed her into the wall hard enough to rattle the frame. Plaster cracked. Metal fingers tightened, servos grinding.

Upstairs—

PING! PING! PING!

Dani looked at Mother Box hovering beside her. Its light pulsed frantic gold.

“Yeah,” she whispered, like she’d just been told something. “I know.”

She gripped the bat tighter—

and ran.

Dani’s sneakers pounded the steps as she bolted down the staircase and swung the bat into the back of Android Martha’s head.

The hit landed with a metallic clank.

The android didn’t flinch.

Its face split into mechanical panels, glow bleeding through the seams.

A barrel formed inside the android’s mouth. Cyan light built at the core, the whine climbing until it hurt to hear.

Its head rotated a full one-eighty, locking onto Dani.

Through the crush of metal fingers on her throat, Kara forced out words.

“D-Dani… duck…”

Dani dropped instantly—

PING! 

Mother Box streaked off Kara’s shoulder in a golden blur, wrapping around Dani’s arm mid-drop as its panels snapped open.

Kara’s eyes ignited red—

Twin beams cut through the android’s skull, punching clean through. The charge inside its mouth destabilized. Cyan light swelled—

then detonated.

Mother Box’s shield expanded just in time, locking tight around Dani as the explosion hit.

The blast ripped through the hallway, tearing plaster and wood apart. Kara slammed into the wall, shielding her face as heat and static rolled past.

When the light faded, Dani was curled beneath a shimmering golden cocoon.

The shield retracted with a soft hiss, leaving her trembling—but untouched.

Kara slid down the wall, coughing, shoulder of her suit scorched. The android lay in pieces, its inner light fading like dying coals.

The hall went quiet again. Bits of drywall drifted through the air like snow.

Mother Box drifted toward Kara, panels rotating. A soft yellow beam washed over her chest and throat. The raw burn in her windpipe eased, the ache fading with the warmth.

Dani crept closer, still gripping the bat. “What are you doin’?”

Kara straightened, flexing her fingers as the soreness faded.

“It’s okay. She heals.”

Mother Box hovered at eye level. Kara tilted her head, half-smiling.

“Didn’t know you could do yellow solar light.”

PING.

Kara sighed.

“Okay—two pings for yes, one for no, three for emergencies. That work?”

PING. PING.

Kara chuckled under her breath. The smile faded as her gaze dropped to the ruined bodies on the floor.

Jonathan’s face stared back—too human, too close to real.

Beside him, Martha’s peeled-open face exposed metal and wires where warmth should’ve been.

Heat tightened in Kara’s chest. Her fists tightened. 

“Not again,” she muttered.

Kara stepped outside. The light under the dome washed everything in cyan blue.

Mother Box glided at her shoulder. Dani followed close behind, quiet except for the crunch of gravel under her sneakers.

“Um,” Dani said, “so where’s that backup?”

“We gotta get to the school,” Kara said without turning. “There are probably students there we should warn. When that swarm ran at Nova, I only saw adults. Whoever’s behind this… maybe they only took adults.”

Dani moved beside her. “What if the school’s full of those androids?”

Kara’s eyes narrowed toward the horizon.

“We’ll see. If the school’s safe, I’ll leave you there. I can’t help Nova if I’m worrying about you.”

Dani nodded.

“I think the cheer team had practice today. We should hurry. If they replaced adults, Coach Suarez might be one too.”

Kara gave a short nod, scooped Dani up, and launched into the air.

Wind caught her hair. The dome’s blue light rippled across her suit.

Mother Box rose after them, leaving the broken facsimiles of Jonathan and Martha in the hall below as they streaked toward Smallville High. 

Scene 3: The Observer Effect

Within a vast chamber, a thousand spheres turned slowly in the dark. Each hung on thin filaments of energy, weaving a web of perfect motion—planets, moons, and machines orbiting in quiet harmony.

Beneath them, a floor of black glass reflected their light like constellations trapped below the surface.

At the center floated a throne of black alloy, suspended inches above the ground. Pale light pulsed beneath its surface—alive, aware. Upon it sat a figure, still and silent, watching.

He wore deep blue metal that caught no reflection, the chamber’s faint glow tracing silver along his edges. A circlet wrapped his temples, framing a face carved in calm intellect. His eyes glowed a steady, deep red.

The Throne chimed softly. A ripple of data ran through the air, symbols of light flickering across the walls. The figure tilted his head, studying the anomaly blooming before him—a golden surge cutting through the void, bright as a newborn star.

“Hmm,” he murmured, resting his chin on his hand. “Perhaps this warrants closer study.”

The throne rotated as the energy spiked—

BOOM!

A tunnel of golden light tore open before him, pulling the chair forward. He leaned back slightly, expression unreadable, as the chamber folded in on itself and the light swallowed him whole.

—

Back on the ranch, the world had gone still.

Nova stood on the gravel road leading to Dani’s house, the air humming under the cyan dome above. Around him, a swarm of android facsimiles waited in silence, hundreds of eyes burning the same cold blue.

At his feet lay the one that wore Dani’s father’s face. Lifeless. Its light long gone.

Nova’s aura brightened and burned hot. Heat rolled off him, searing away the tattered civilian clothes until only his black suit remained—golden veins pulsing like fire through the fabric. His eyes glowed to match.

The androids moved. Arms unfolded, reshaping into weapons—some blasters, some blades. Metal shifted and clicked through the silence.

Nova’s hands ignited with golden light.

Then he moved.

He fired a sweeping blast, a blinding arc that tore through the first line of androids. Those with blades stepped forward, blocking with the flat of their weapons. Sparks flew. Behind them, others raised their blasters, barrels lighting as they charged.

Before they could fire, Nova launched forward. He hit the front line like a meteor, grabbed a bladed android by the arm, and drove its blade straight through the skull of another. Then he ripped the blaster from a third, turned it on the crowd, and fired. Cyan light tore through metal and dirt.

Another android lunged from behind and stabbed him in the side—once. Twice. Again.

Nova grunted, twisted, and fired point-blank into its chest, blasting it apart.

He leapt high and landed farther down the road. Now the entire horde stood between him and the house.

Nova raised both hands. Golden energy gathered, veins of light racing up his arms and across his chest.

The beam erupted, roaring from his palms—wide as a freight truck.

The first wave melted under the heat. Metal screamed. Faces liquefied. The smell of scorched circuitry filled the air.

He swept his arms sideways, the beam cutting through the rest.

Four remained.

One, wearing the face of a red-haired man, charged. It tackled Nova hard, slamming him into the dirt.

Its facial plates split apart, a barrel forming inside its mouth as cyan energy built, pulsing brighter every second.

Nova’s eyes flared. He roared—

and a bolt of golden light blew the android’s head clean off.

The headless body spasmed. Nova shoved it aside—

but two more were already on him.

One stabbed, over and over. The other slashed—fast and brutal.

Nova grabbed both by the head and slammed them together.

The impact flattened their skulls in a burst of light and metal.

The last android leapt, firing a cyan blast midair. It hit Nova square in the chest, burning straight through suit and skin.

He staggered, smoke rising from the wound. The android landed, one arm refolding into a blade.

Nova stood tall, golden light and red blood running from the wound. His glow flickered—but didn’t fade.

The droid fired again. Nova darted right, the beam carving a trench through the dirt.

It lunged with its blade. Nova caught the arm mid-swing. The edge sliced his palm, sparks and gold blood snapping free—

he swept its legs and drove its own weapon down into its head.

The droid convulsed once, then went still.

Nova stayed on one knee, surrounded by melted bodies and drifting smoke. He looked around—no movement.

Just silence.

He exhaled, chest rising and falling hard. “Just… a minute.”

The ground shook.

BOOM!

A tunnel of golden light tore open above him, cutting through the cyan haze of the dome. The blast of energy swept the air clean.

Nova looked up as the Throne emerged from the light, descending slowly, perfectly balanced. Its occupant—a man of blue and black alloy—sat with calm precision, red eyes fixed on him.

The chair stopped just above the road.

“Nova, son of Sollis,” the stranger said, voice smooth and detached. “I wish to speak with you.”

Nova blinked, his breath catching. “I am preoccupied at th—” He stopped, processing the words. 

“Sollis.”

Nova steadied.

“Explain.”

The Throne drifted closer, lowering to meet his eye level.

“I am Metron,” the figure said. “Seeker of knowledge. Traveler of the Source and this is my Mobius Chair.”

Nova pushed himself to his feet, slow and strained.

Metron’s chair rose slightly, observing him from above.

“You are quite the specimen, Nova,” Metron said. “Even now, in your current… state.”

Nova steadied himself. “If you are here for a fight—”

Metron raised a hand.

“If I were here for a fight, I would not have announced myself.”

Nova’s glow dimmed slightly.

“Then speak your purpose.”

Metron’s expression barely shifted. “You are an anomaly. Born of New Genesis. Raised in the pits of Apokolips. You walk between light and dark as if the line never existed.”

Nova’s eyes narrowed. “And what is it you want?”

“I merely wish to observe what comes next.”

Nova frowned. “And that is?”

Metron leaned back in his chair, voice steady.

“A display of power.”

The air trembled—

A heavy thud hit the dirt behind them.

Nova turned.

A familiar grin met him. 

“Well, look what the K’traxian fuzz-spawn dragged in.”

Nova’s voice dropped to a growl. “Lobo.”

Metron’s chair lifted higher, floating clear of the ground, rune-light reflecting in the bounty hunter’s eyes.

Nova took a step forward. “You have something of mine.”

Lobo glanced down at the jacket hanging off his shoulders—Nova’s jacket.

“Well, what the frag are ya waitin’ for? Come and get it, bastich.”

Nova’s hands flared gold. He lifted off the ground, fists clenched, aura burning hotter.

Lobo laughed and launched up to meet him, chains coiling around his arm, metal glinting under the cyan sky.

Scene 4: Titans Let’s Go!

“ALL TITANS TO THE OPERATIONS ROOM. ALL TITANS TO THE OPERATIONS ROOM.”

The metallic voice carried through the tower, rattling through steel and glass.

The first one through the door was a blur—lightning yellow, red, and loud.

“Finally! About time!”

Behind him, the man of chrome and circuitry didn’t even look up from the console.

“Take it down a notch, man. We get, what—three of these calls a day?”

The blur stopped—Wally West, grinning ear to ear, hands on his hips.

“C’mon, Vic! This is what I’ve been waiting for! A chance to try out my new shoes.”

The door slid open again, revealing their field leader. Dick Grayson walked in calm, composed, a half-smile behind the mask.

“Guys—the alarm stops once someone hits ‘accept call.’ Babs had a long night, and I don’t think I can handle another restless Batgirl.”

Wally zipped to the console and hit the button. The alarm cut off.

A holo-screen flared to life, projecting the calm green face of J’onn J’onzz.

“Nightwing,” J’onn said, eyes moving across the room. “Cyborg. Kid Flash. Where are the rest of your teammates?”

Vic finally turned. “Well, Raven’s probably meditating. Damian’s in the sim room. Superboy and Starfire are with him, last I checked.”

Dick’s head tilted. “Is Kaldur back from Atlantis yet?”

Wally shook his head.

“Nah. He and Gar went to Santa Prisca.”

The door hissed open again. Damian Wayne strode in, cape swishing, followed by Conner Kent—broad-shouldered, the red S on black—and Koriand’r, her eyes still faintly glowing from the sim.

“Forgive our lateness,” Damian said, voice sharp and precise. “The simulation required… recalibration.”

Conner smirked. 

“Yeah. At least now we know we can’t take on the Justice League yet.”

Damian crossed his arms. “Speak for yourself, clone.”

Kori rolled her eyes and rested a hand on Conner’s shoulder.

“Friends, perhaps we focus on the current emergency?”

Dick clapped his hands once. “Exactly. Everyone, listen up.”

J’onn’s voice filled the room again.

“Supergirl has requested assistance. There is a developing situation in Smallville. Reports indicate the population has been replaced with android facsimiles. An energy dome encases the town—those inside cannot leave, those outside cannot enter. The energy readings match Dominion technology.”

The team exchanged looks—grim. Focused.

J’onn continued, “Your mission is to rendezvous with Supergirl and provide support.”

Damian sighed.

“What’s the point of all that power if she still needs our help?”

Dick stepped closer to the projection. “Don’t worry, J’onn. We’re on it.”

J’onn gave a short nod before the feed cut out.

Dick turned to the team.

“Alright, you heard him. Big Blue’s hometown is in trouble, and his cousin needs backup. Cy—can you open a Boom Tube to Smallville?”

Vic grinned. “Already spinning up coordinates.”

Wally leaned on the console. “Won’t that dome block us?”

“Dude,” Vic said, not looking up, “a Boom Tube’s a wormhole. I doubt the Dominion’s figured out how to firewall those.”

The air shimmered. A translucent figure rose through the floor, phasing beside Conner. M’gann M’orzz glanced around.

“Did I miss something?”

Conner smiled. “Yeah. Just the alarm.”

BOOM!

The Boom Tube flared open—rings of gold and blue light spinning outward, humming low.

Damian flinched. “A warning would be appreciated!”

Vic chuckled. “Level ten my ass.”

Dick glanced around the team, eyes steady. “Titans, move out.”

The group turned toward the swirling light, ready and wordless.

One by one, they stepped through.

The Boom Tube collapsed behind them, leaving only the soft hum of fading energy.

Scene 5: Theology 101

Far from Earth, the Javelin cut through the void—silver against a field of stars. Its engines hummed through the silence between worlds.

In the comms bay, Superman sat before a flickering console. J’onn’s image hovered in the air, faint and green.

“Thanks for the update, J’onn.”

Clark ended the transmission, the light fading from his face. He exhaled, then pushed away from the chair and headed for the cockpit.

The door slid open with a hiss. Inside, Diana, Bruce, Shayera, and Hal sat at their stations—starlight streaking across the canopy ahead.

Without turning, Bruce spoke first. “Problems?”

“The Dominion’s in Smallville,” Clark said, voice even but tight.

“You can zeta back if you’re needed,” Bruce offered, eyes never leaving the controls.

Clark shook his head.

“No. Kara and the Titans can handle it. I should give her room to do her thing.”

He paused, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.

“I hate to admit it, but I think I’ve been wrong about her. She’s better at this than I was at her age.”

Diana turned toward him.

“Kara is one of the fiercest warriors I’ve ever seen. Thoughtful, too. Is that common among Kryptonian women?”

Clark chuckled softly. “Wouldn’t know.”

Shayera flipped a few switches, tone casual but knowing.

“She’s gotta learn to let it out. All that power bottled up? It’s gonna spill sooner or later.”

She looked over her shoulder.

“You lost Krypton, but you grew up on Earth. She had Krypton… then lost it. She’s not afraid of her strength, Clark—she’s afraid of losing again.”

Hal scoffed from the co-pilot’s seat. “With Nova on Earth, she might lose it anyway.”

Clark’s jaw tightened. “Nova’s not going to destroy the planet, Hal. If anything, he’d get himself hurt trying to save it.”

Diana tilted her head.

“You’re judging him.”

Hal spun his chair halfway toward them.

“I’m sorry—when did we stop being the Justice League? We’ve gone past reason if we’re letting that kid kill whenever he feels like it.”

“Hal—” Clark started, but Diana cut him off, voice calm but edged in steel.

“You speak of the divine as though it were yours to comprehend, Jordan.”

Shayera sighed, leaning back. “Here we go…”

Diana continued.“Divinity isn’t just power. The New Gods aren’t kings or soldiers—they’re ideas given form. What you witnessed wasn’t murder. It was one mechanism of a greater world turning—slowly, without mercy. Nova is part of that design.”

Hal frowned. “So, I’m supposed to look the other way because he’s an ‘idea’?”

Diana met his gaze. “Yes. If he struck down another born of the Source, then it was decided long before we could interfere.”

Hal stood, pacing across the cockpit. “Decided by who? Some cosmic rulebook none of us can read?”

“By the same design that keeps things in their place,” Diana said. “The gods act where we cannot. That is the order of things.”

Bruce finally turned to face her fully.

“I don’t call that order. He killed a sentient being in front of a witness. You can’t hide that behind theology.”

Diana’s voice softened but didn’t waver. “I’m only reminding you that divinity doesn’t answer to law. You of all people should understand that, Bruce. You built your own law because theirs failed you.”

Clark looked between them. “You’re saying it’s not his choice?”

Hal threw up a hand. “So what—he’s just a cosmic reflex? That’s supposed to make it better?”

Shayera didn’t turn around. “No. It means we’re ants arguing over giants.”

The cabin fell quiet.

Diana looked out the viewport, her reflection framed against the stars. “I’m not asking you to submit,” she said. “Only to see the scale of what you’re judging. Nova isn’t a man with power—he is power choosing to live among mortals.”

No one spoke after that. The hum of the Javelin filled the silence as they turned back to their controls.

Clark rubbed his face with both hands, sighing through his nose. Then he stood.

“I gotta call Lois.”

Bruce didn’t look up. “We’ll reach Thanagar soon,” he said. “Try to keep it short.”

Clark managed a faint smile and left the cockpit, the door sliding shut behind him.

—

Clark stepped into the small bunk compartment at the rear of the Javelin. He sat at the console, exhaled once, and said—quiet but firm:

“Call Lois Lane.”

The screen blinked. After a moment, Lois appeared—hair in a loose ponytail, glasses on, sitting at her desk at home with a half-finished article glowing behind her.

"Hey, Clark! How’s space-birdland?"

Clark forced a thin smile. "We’re almost there."

Lois studied his face—one raised eyebrow. "Okay, what’s wrong? You look like someone made fun of your trunks."

He rubbed his jaw. "It’s Nova."

Lois perked up. "Kara’s boyfriend? The mystery golden boy? When am I getting introduced?"

Clark let out a breath.

“It’s been a day since… the Kanto thing. And I don’t know how to handle it.”

Lois reached for her mug and sipped. "Didn’t you and Bruce talk to him?"

“Yeah,” he said, “but it’s what Diana said that stuck with me.”

Lois leaned forward. "Well, she usually knows what she’s talking about. What’d she say?"

"That he might not have a choice. That he’s… acting out some divine role he can’t control."

Lois blinked once, then smirked.

“And now you’re wondering if your choices aren’t really yours either.”

Clark sighed. "You know me too well."

“Please. I married you, not an enigma.” She set the mug down. “Clark… he’s a kid. He’s trying. That counts.”

He shook his head. "But if what Diana said is right—"

Lois cut in gently. "Then teach him choice. He grew up on Apokolips, right?"

"Raised there. Born on New Genesis."

"Whatever. Point is—he didn’t grow up with freedom. He needs to learn it. From you."

Clark ran a hand through his hair.

“I don’t even know what he wants to be. What if that’s what he does with freedom?”

Lois took off her glasses and pointed them at the screen. "Clark. He wants the girl he likes to like him back. Congratulations—he’s a teenage boy. That's step one of being human."

Clark cracked a small laugh despite himself.

“Show him what to do with power besides hit something,” she said. “Model it. And don’t panic when he stumbles. You didn’t exactly have a flawless rookie year either.”

He nodded slowly.

“I probably shouldn’t have gone on this mission.”

Lois narrowed her eyes playfully.

“And miss date night? No chance. You’ll make it up to me—something shiny, by the way. Flowers are for amateurs.”

He chuckled. "Yes ma’am. I’ll call on the way home. Love you."

Lois smirked.

“Mhm. I’ll decide that when you get back.”

The call ended. Clark stood, squared his shoulders, and headed toward the cockpit—Thanagar growing larger in the viewport ahead.

—

The hatch hissed open and Clark stepped back in. He looked calmer—shoulders loose, jaw unclenched.

Bruce was halfway into a slim black EVA suit. No bulky tanks, no sci-fi armor plates—more like tactical gear built for vacuum. The breathing rig locked over the lower half of his face, clicking once as it sealed. His voice came through an internal speaker, level as ever.

“Everything alright?”

Clark nodded. Quick, confident. “Yeah.”

Bruce accepted that with a single blink and turned to business. “Hawkwoman.”

Shayera stood, tightening her grip on her mace.

“Carter’s already at the crash site. Three unidentified drones went down just outside a perimeter zone. Tech doesn’t match anything Thanagarian.”

Diana shifted in her seat, calm but alert.

Shayera’s mouth tightened.

“Whoever touched the drones lost themselves. Blank. No memory. No identity. General Rotan’s ready to call it sabotage.”

Hal exhaled sharply. “Against who?”

“Everyone,” Shayera said.

Bruce didn’t react. “Objective?”

Clark stepped forward.

“Find the drones. Figure out where they came from. Shut it down before this turns into a war.”

The Javelin hit atmosphere, engines shifting tone as landing thrusters engaged.

Outside, Thanagar filled the windshield—stone citadels, aerial patrols, skies crowded with winged armor and gunships.

A world built for conflict, not conversation.

The landing struts touched dirt. Metal groaned.

The ramp lowered.

Hal cracked his neck. “Ladies and gentlemen, diplomacy.”

Shayera led them down the ramp first, wings folding tight.

Clark followed—cape catching the wind, boots hitting alien soil.

Scene 6: School Daze

The school roof was quiet. Too quiet for a Sunday in Smallville.

No traffic. No chatter. No background life.

The town just… stopped.

Kara flew low over the school, keeping steady so Dani wouldn’t shiver.

“Jeez,” Kara muttered, glancing upward. “We’re way up here and still nowhere near the dome.”

She dipped lower. From below came faint voices—cheerleaders, laughing, talking.

Too normal.

“Sounds like you were right,” Kara said. “Mother Box, scan the school and everything around it. Find any androids.”

PING. PING.

The Mother Box shot ahead, streaking gold.

Kara lowered altitude and said quietly to Dani, “Listen, we’re not gonna be able to hide this. If anyone asks, I saved you, okay?”

Dani nodded.

“No problem. You saved me from a robot guy, and I told you we should check the school because it might be empty.”

Kara smirked. “Been preppin’ for this?”

“Been thinkin’ it over. Figured it’d sound weird saying I’m best friends with a superhero. Your face looks different with the glasses, but—‘Dani’s best friends with blonde Kara’? Not a big leap to Supergirl.”

They touched down on the roof. Kara didn’t let go right away; she kept Dani close, arms firm around her.

“You’re the best,” Kara said softly. “We’ll get through this. We just need to find everyone and keep them safe.”

Dani nodded. “We might have to search everywhere. If it’s just the adults replaced, some kids could be trapped.”

The sky split open.

BOOM!

Wind and light tore across the shingles as the Titans dropped in—Dick first, then Victor, Damian, Kori, M’Gann, Conner, and Wally.

Dick straightened, eyes sweeping the area. “Supergirl?”

Wally zipped beside him.

“Nah, just another blonde wearing an S.”

Kori floated forward, smile bright. “Friend Supergirl!” She wrapped Kara in a hug. “I wish this meeting was not in the middle of another alien invasion so that our hanging out could be pleasant!”

“Hey,” said Wally, giving Kara a once-over. “You look amazing.”

Conner stepped forward, a little awkward.

“Hey… Supergirl.”

Dick cut in. “Focus, team. Mission first.”

Dani froze. “Kara,” she whispered, eyes wide, “why are there superheroes on top of the school?”

“What did you think I meant by backup?” Kara said.

Dani blinked, realization dawning.

“Oh my god. The Nightwing. This is insane.”

Her eyes landed on Conner.

“You’re—Superboy!”

Kara pulled her aside. “Yeah, Dani, it’s the Titans. We’ll do introductions later. Right now, we focus.” She turned to the team. “Here’s the situation. Some aliens dropped a dome over Smallville. They’ve replaced people with android look-alikes. So far, it looks like only adults. I’m waiting on confirmation.”

She pointed toward the football field. “I’m checking the school first. If they’re still themselves, we’ll know kids are safe for now. Then we round everyone up—house to house—and keep them here while we deal with the Dominion.”

Dani leaned in. “What about Nova?”

Kara shot her a look that said not now, then turned to the team.

“Right. There’s another—”

Dani jumped in. “Her boyfriend, Nova! He’s a New God.”

Kara glared. 

“Yes. My boyfriend. He stayed behind at Dani’s family ranch when a swarm of bots hit. If I know him, he’s knee-deep in robot parts by now.”

She typed an address into her phone and held it up.

“This is the ranch. Once we clear the school, we regroup there.”

Dick nodded as M’Gann stepped forward. “It might help if I set up a telepathic link. We know comms still work, but a mental line would be faster.”

Kara nodded. “Good call.”

Mother Box drifted down beside her. 

PING. PING.

“Did you scan the school?” Kara asked.

PING. PING.

“Any students besides the cheer squad?”

PING. PING.

“Any adults or androids?”

PING.

Kara frowned.

“That’s strange. Why would students be here without teachers?”

Dani pointed toward the field. “Look. They’re all just sittin’ there.”

They looked—teenagers scattered across the bleachers, talking, scrolling their phones, occasionally glancing up at the glowing sky.

“Yeah,” Dani said quietly. “Somethin’s off.”

Victor stepped forward. “Mother Box—can you trace android energy signatures?”

PING!

Victor’s eyes flickered blue for a second as he synced up.

“She says there were androids here—twenty minutes ago.”

Dani stared. “You speak Mother Box?”

Victor half-smiled. “Yeah. We’re compatible.”

Damian scoffed. “So the rest of us are cannon fodder?”

Conner folded his arms. “We knew what we were walking into.”

Damian shot him a look. “Why should we take orders from her? Superman’s gone, and suddenly his cousin’s in charge?”

Dick didn’t miss a beat.

“You can Boom Tube back to the Tower if you’d rather brood.”

Damian glared but said nothing.

“Mother Box?” Victor asked. “Full scan. How do we tell the androids apart?”

PING. PING.

Victor’s voice went low.

“She says… all humans over twenty have been replaced. Everyone under twenty is still real. They’re gathered in the mines.”

Kara’s stomach dropped. “Okay. New plan. Cyborg—link up with Mother Box.”

“Already done.”

Kara nodded. “You, Miss Martian, Robin, and Kid Flash head for the mines. Start pulling kids out and get them back here. Deal with androids if you have to. The rest of us head to the ranch and back up Nova.”

Damian crossed his arms. “I’m coming with you. I want to see if this ‘New God’ lives up to the hype.”

Kara rolled her eyes. “Fine, kid. Just don’t slow us down.”

M’Gann’s voice echoed gently in everyone’s mind “Link established.”

Dani flinched. “What the fuck?”

“Stay calm,” M’Gann said aloud, smiling politely. “You’ll be able to talk to us if anything happens. But try not to shout in your head.”

Dani, thinking hard, “Hello! Testing! Testing!”

Everyone winced, a few clutching their heads.

“Sorry!” she blurted. “First time. Won’t happen again.”

Kara sighed, amused despite herself.

“Come on. I’ll drop you with the cheer squad. Keep everyone safe. If any adults show up, tell us right away.”

Dani nodded. “Got it.”

Kara lifted her into the air again, Mother Box humming close behind.

—

Kara landed softly on the sidelines, Dani still in her arms, Mother Box hovering above her shoulder like a golden halo. 

The cheer squad on the bleachers looked up from their phones. A few gasped—then everyone moved at once, squealing and racing down the steps.

Kara raised her voice, loud enough for the whole field to hear. “You’ll be safe here, citizen!”

Dani stifled a laugh and played along. “Thank you, Supergirl! That evil robot was so close to killin’ me!”

Kara turned toward the cheerleaders just as a high-pitched shriek cut through the air.

“AAAAHHHH!”

Alice came sprinting down the bleachers, pigtails bouncing. She hit the turf, did a cartwheel, and landed in front of Kara—beaming like a kid meeting Santa.

“Supergirl!” she squealed again, grabbing Kara’s hand. “I’m, like, your biggest fan! What’re you doin’ in lil’ ol’ Smallville? Are you here ’cause of the bowl?”

The whole squad crowded in around her.

Kara blinked, forcing a smile.

“Y-yes! I am here to… take down this, erm—bowl!”

Alice clapped wildly, practically vibrating. From the edge of the group, another girl called out,

“You might wanna figure out what the hell’s goin’ on with Coach Suarez.”

Dani stepped closer. “Is Coach Suarez okay?”

Alice kept her eyes locked on Kara. “Uh, I don’t know. But, like, she was wearing these super cool contacts. Maybe she’s tryin’ a new look? Less drill sergeant, more E.D.F.”

Dani shot Kara a look.

Kara straightened, trying to hold the heroic pose.

“Not to worry! I will check on this Coach Suarez. Please, girls, remain on the school grounds until the dome has been… dealt with. And warn any other students to stay here.”

Dani covered her mouth, barely holding in a laugh.

Hallie walked up beside her. “Babe, you okay?”

Alice turned around instantly. “Aww! You two are already in the babe phase? Ugh, Crash is so not gettin’ off easy now.”

Kara let out an awkward giggle. “Remember, girls—stay put.”

From the back, a familiar voice cut through the chatter.

“Yeah, we heard you.”

Sadie Graves. Arms crossed. Trademark sneer locked in.

“God, why do these super-freaks think they can boss everyone around? My Aunt Mercy says they’re just on a power trip.”

Kara’s shoulders dropped. She rolled her eyes, muttered under her breath, and slowly lifted off the ground.

She glanced once at Dani—who gave her a sympathetic grin—then rose higher, rejoining the Titans on the roof.

—

Dick, Damian, and Conner stood near the edge of the roof. Kori floated lazily above them, sunlight from the cyan dome glinting off her hair like a second flame.

She tapped Conner’s shoulder, bright-eyed. 

“Conner, how go the happenings of joy between you and the M’gann?”

Conner blinked, caught off guard. “Uh—good? Fine, I guess?”

Kori smiled like she’d solved a puzzle.

“The Cassie shows liking of you as well, yes? You are having the struggle of the heart?”

Conner froze. “Wh—no. Not really.”

“Yes,” Kori said, nodding as if his answer confirmed everything. “With the M’gann you feel much like yourself, but it is most clear you hold the attraction for the Cassie.”

Damian groaned. “I could be halfway through our mission already. Instead, we’re standing here waiting for a Kryptonian.”

Dick patted him on the shoulder. “Patience, kid. Sign of a disciplined warrior.”

Damian turned his head, flat. “Don’t talk to me about disciplined warriors.”

Dick smirked. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Grandson of the Dragon, son of Batman, whatever. You need new lines, kiddo.”

He ruffled Damian’s hair.

“I am not a child, Grayson!”

Before Dick could reply, Kara dropped from the sky and touched down beside them, landing light as a feather.

Conner turned toward her.

“Hey,” she said.

Conner smiled a little. “Can we talk? I know last time we met, some harsh words were said, but—”

Damian cut him off. “Enough chatter. Let’s see this divine boyfriend of the Kryptonian.”

Conner shot him a glare. Kara just sighed.

Dick stepped forward. “Alright, since our transport’s busy with Beta Squad, we’re pairing up.”

Kori brightened instantly.

“I will take Nightwing!”

Before Dick could protest, she scooped him up by the arm and lifted off the roof.

Kara turned to Damian. “Give me your hands.”

Damian crossed his arms. “Do not drop me, Kryptonian.”

Kara shrugged. “We’ll see.”

She grabbed his hands and lifted off the roof as he scowled. Below, Conner leapt effortlessly into the air, keeping pace beside them as the team split off toward Dani’s ranch.

—

Smallville’s main street was silent. Mid-afternoon—no cars, no voices—just the hum of power lines under the cyan sky.

Victor’s eye scanner swept in slow arcs as he walked ahead.

“Got three life signs inside this one,” he said over the telepathic link. “Two human. One synthetic.”

“On it,” Wally replied—then he was gone, a streak of red and yellow lightning cutting across the street. Doors slammed. Androids reacted. The sound echoed through the block. Wally zigzagged between porches, waving at the glowing-eyed fakes as they locked onto him.

“C’mon, terminators! Let’s get some cardio in!”

The androids broke into pursuit—movements smooth, too synchronized to be human. Cyan eyes fixed on the speedster, arms unfolding into blades and blasters.

Wally stayed just ahead—fast enough to tease, slow enough to draw them away.

Above the street, M’gann hovered, eyes glowing green with focus. Her voice brushed through every human mind like a calm breeze.

“Everyone, I am Miss Martian of the Titans. Please come outside. We will bring you to safety.”

Doors creaked open. Confused faces appeared—kids, teens, a few toddlers clinging to older siblings. M’gann floated lower, voice gentle but firm. “Please, follow me. Quickly.”

BOOM!

Victor opened a Boom Tube behind her. The swirling gold light flooded the street. 

“Alright, field trip time,” he said. “Stay close, no running. You’ll pop out safe and sound at the high school football field.”

The youngest went first. Once the last crossed through, Wally reappeared beside them, brushing dust off his gloves.

“Street’s clear?”

Victor scanned the next row of houses. “Six more on this block. Then a diner, the park, and that old rec center.”

M’gann nodded, scanning the rooftops.

“We’ll need to hurry. There could be more hiding.”

“Got it.” Wally smirked, stretching his legs. “Round two.”

The plan stayed the same—Wally drew fire, Victor and M’gann evacuated the survivors.

House to house. Street to street.

Bit by bit, they emptied Smallville of its last remaining humans.

—

BOOM!

The Boom Tube tore open above the football field, gold light washing over the bleachers. Students screamed, stumbling back from the sudden rip in the air.

Children, teens, and even toddlers—helped along by older kids—spilled out of the portal. Dani stood by the sideline, arms out, guiding them toward the bleachers.

“Alright, everyone, y’all are safe here!” she called out, her voice carrying across the field. “Stay close to the turf. Don’t wander off!”

Alice and Hallie hurried over. Dani pointed toward the smaller kids.

“Make sure the little ones are good. Get the other cheerleaders helping.”

They nodded and split off, corralling the youngest while Dani scanned the crowd.

A redheaded cheerleader jogged up, lugging a big cooler. “Hey, uh—Dani, right? I grabbed Coach Suarez’s cooler. I’ll start handing out drinks. We could break into the cafeteria too—grab snacks.”

Dani nodded. “Okay, but don’t go alone.”

“Got it,” the girl said, waving another cheerleader over to help.

Hallie gently took a baby from a crying girl and bounced him on her hip. “What’s goin’ on, Dani?”

The football field was already turning into a makeshift shelter—backpacks stacked in corners, cheerleaders handing out bottles of water, kids sitting on the turf in small huddles. Near the gate, Sadie and her clique stood guard—arms crossed, eyes tracking the dome above.

Dani touched her temple, speaking through M’gann’s link. “First wave of kids received. Thanks, guys.”

M’gann’s calm voice echoed in her mind. “We’re not through yet. Still a lot of ground to cover.”

Dani looked out across the field—at the scared faces, the strange glow of the dome above—and muttered under her breath,  “God… how the hell do they deal with this stuff every day?”

Scene 7: Czarnian Family Reunion

The Titans stood along the ridge overlooking the Kansan countryside. Below, Dani’s family ranch smoldered beneath the dome’s eerie cyan light. The front drive was littered with broken androids—metal torsos split clean through, their circuitry still twitching with residual energy.

Dick exhaled, arms crossed.

“Looks like he handled the androids.”

Conner landed beside them with a heavy thud, scanning the wreckage.

“I hear one heartbeat… and something else. Like a hum.”

Before anyone could ask, the farmhouse exploded.

A shockwave hit the ridge, flinging dirt into the air. Everyone ducked—everyone except Kara and Conner, who stared straight into the flash. When the light faded, the house was gone. Only the blackened foundation remained.

“Well,” Dick muttered. “That answers something.”

Conner squinted upward. “Guys… look.”

High above the ruins, a figure hovered—seated in a floating chair, perfectly calm amid the chaos.

“Kara,” Dick said, “is that him?”

She shook her head. “No… not Nova.”

Damian pulled out compact binoculars, adjusting the focus.

“Metron,” he said flatly. “Another New God. We are being invaded.”

“Hey—” Dick snatched the binoculars from his hands. “Give those back, Grayson.”

“Stay out of Bruce’s files, kid.” Dick lifted the lenses again, zeroing in. Metron was watching the scene below, expression unreadable.

“Down there,” Conner said suddenly. “That’s Nova?”

On the ground, Nova stood over Lobo—one hand gripping the bounty hunter by his dreads. He dragged him through the dirt, then hurled him into the barn with enough force to cave half of it in.

PING! PING! PING!

Kara glanced at the Mother Box floating near her shoulder.

“Yeah. I see it. He’s hurt.”

Kori cupped her hands around her mouth. “Hello, the gorgeous!” she shouted toward the fight.

The barn erupted. Lobo burst out, hauling a tractor in one hand. He hurled it like a discus. Nova caught it—but before he could react, Lobo fired his blaster.

The tractor detonated midair, scattering flaming debris across the field.

“Should we help him?” Dick asked, watching the smoke.

Kara’s eyes narrowed. Through the flames, Nova emerged—floating just above the ground, his aura bright gold against the blue haze.

“I think he’s got it.”

Nova blurred forward, driving his knee into Lobo’s midsection. The Czarnian folded with a grunt before being flung overhead and slammed into the dirt hard enough to leave a crater.

From the hill, Conner whistled low. “Felt that from here.”

Damian crossed his arms. “Of course that would impress you. You’re not even as strong as Superman.”

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, kid,” Conner shot back.

Below, Lobo’s laughter rolled through the smoke. “I like you, kid! Haven’t had this much fun in a long damn time!”

He swung a wild punch. Nova caught it, twisted his arm, and hammered his other fist into Lobo’s jaw. The sound cracked through the field like a gunshot.

“Okay,” Dick said quietly, “that one I felt.”

Nova grabbed Lobo by the collar and aimed his glowing palm at the Czarnian’s face. His voice came low, resonant. “Take off my jacket.”

Conner blinked. “His jacket?”

Kara shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t know.”

Lobo laughed through blood and soot. “Know what? Sure thing, kid. Winner gets the fraggin’ jacket.”

He rolled his shoulders, slipped out of the jacket, and tossed it aside into the dirt.

Then Nova fired.

Even from the ridge, the team heard the Czarnian’s roar echo across the fields. When it ended, Lobo was on his knees—skin charred, smoke rising off him.

Dick watched, jaw tight. “Why isn’t he on the team again?”

Kara folded her arms, eyes still on Nova. “Not sure. But Superman’s been mentoring him.”

Kori tilted her head toward Kara, eyes gleaming.

“I can most clearly see why you are liking of him, Kara. When he is not in the fighting, there is gentleness within his eyes—but in the battle, he becomes a force of nature itself!”

Damian groaned.

“Please. I’ve yet to see anything impressive. Just another strong outsider showing off pretty lights.”

Dick glanced at Conner. “Speaking of pretty lights—where did we land on the Zeta integration?”

Conner didn’t look away from the fight, his eyes flicking with every flash of gold and blue. “Yeah, uh… Red said he’d work on that tomorrow.”

Dick sighed.

“That’d be nice. Babs still commutes to Gotham every night. Gets exhausting.”

Damian folded his arms. “Could just have Cyborg open a Boom Tube.”

“I could,” Dick said, “but it’s not a great look—asking him to open a wormhole every time one of us wants to go home.”

“Maybe you should get a jet,” Damian shot back. “Or does Father not give you access to his arsenal?”

Dick turned, smirking. “Unlike you, I don’t expect Daddy to solve my problems.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed.

“Watch yourself, Grayson. From here, I can already see hundreds of ways to neutralize you.”

Conner laughed. “He’s cute when he’s murderous.”

Kara rolled her eyes. Dick grinned at her. “Sorry about the bickering. Growing pains.”

She shrugged. “It’s why I don’t do teams.”

Down below, Lobo forced himself upright. His skin crackled as it healed, a wide grin spreading despite the burns.

“Okay, fine!” he bellowed. “You wanna win the Main Man’s jacket? Then you gotta go through the Main Man himself!”

He lunged—swinging the remains of his chain like a buzzsaw.

Nova didn’t flinch. He pivoted aside, caught Lobo’s wrist, and crushed it with a wet crack.

“ARGH! Really?! Same fraggin’ wrist?!”

Lobo swung with his other hand. Nova slapped it aside and drove a heel into his gut. As Lobo doubled over, Nova slammed an uppercut into his jaw, snapping his head back.

The Czarnian roared, throwing wild haymakers. Nova ducked beneath each one, smooth, controlled, never wasting a movement. A sidestep—then a rising palm strike caught Lobo under the chin and sent him flying into the wreckage of the tractor.

Dust billowed.

Dick lowered his binoculars.

“C’mon. That had to impress you. Not even Supes fights like that.”

Damian crossed his arms, silent.

Conner’s mouth hung slightly open. “That’s… not how I remember sparring going.”

Kori cheered, fists in the air.

“Yes! Let the Lobo behold the shining of your power!”

Kara watched the fight below.

Her jaw tightened—then eased.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “I get why he says my fighting skills need work.”

In the distance, the air shimmered.

Something streaked toward them from beyond the dome—a long, curved board gliding across the sky like a comet, trailing violet dust in its wake.

Loup rode it with knees bent and shoulders loose, wind whipping through her hair. As she neared the dome, a small section peeled open—just long enough for her to slip through before sealing shut again.

She angled downward, coasting until she hovered level with the Titans’ ridge. The board stopped dead in the air. She sat cross-legged atop it, shoulders slouched, grin soft and distant.

“Hey, dudes!” she called. “Any of you seen a guy that looks like me—but, y’know, bigger and wider?”

Every head turned.

She hovered a couple feet away, shifting on the board to lounge on her side atop the sleek black-and-purple surface as it hummed softly in the air. She wore a lazy grin, one hand holding a slim cylinder glowing with purple smoke. She took a drag and exhaled a slow, swirling plume.

The Titans and Kara stared, caught off guard.

Kori floated forward, smiling brightly. “Hello! I am Starfire! I believe the one you seek is the Lobo, correct?”

Loup nodded, grinning.

“Yeah. That’s my uncle—kinda. He’s the prototype. I’m the upgraded model. Don’t tell him that, though—he’s sensitive.”

Kara stepped closer, folding her arms. “Lobo’s your uncle? I thought he killed all the other Czarnians.”

Loup stretched out on her board, propping her head on one elbow.

“He did. But I’m his clone. Well—half clone, half remix. Smarter, cuter, less boom, more chillz.” She gave a lazy laugh. “Oh. And I’m a girl.”

Dick stepped up beside Kara. “He here on a contract or something?”

Loup groaned dramatically.

“Ugh, I know. He’s such a workaholic.”

She sat upright, crossing her legs as she mimicked Lobo’s gravelly voice.

“‘Main Man’s gotta earn a livin’, ya bastich!’”

She puffed out her chest. “Pretty good, right?”

No one answered.

“So…” she said, glancing between them. “You’ve met him, huh? Seen the guy?”

Kori pointed toward the ranch. “Indeed. He is right there.”

Down below, Nova was on top of Lobo, slamming precision punches into the Czarnian’s face.

Loup’s grin widened. “Right on.”

Her board shot forward, gliding over the burning fields. She hovered above the fight and shouted,

“Hey! Uncle Lobo! You said once I finished my deal, we could go!”

Nova froze mid-motion, then straightened. He turned, retrieved his jacket from the dirt, dusted it off, and slipped it on.

Loup lowered her board and landed lightly a few feet away.

“Whoa, dude. Didn’t think I’d see you again.”

She tilted her head, giving him a once-over.

“Wow. You took down my uncle and still look that good?”

Lobo rolled over with a groan, pushing himself up. “What the frag you doin’ here?!”

Loup spun, shouting back,

“What am I doin’ here?! You’re fraggin’ crazy! What if you broke his face?!”

Lobo jabbed a finger at her. “One sec, bastich.” He turned to Nova. “Don’t go nowhere.” Then back at Loup. “I’m workin’!”

Loup stood tall on her board, hands on hips. “You told me we’d be done by the time I finished my deal! Deal’s done, let’s go home!”

Lobo grumbled under his breath.

“Last time I take that Keesy fem on a trip…”

He whistled. His Space Hog roared in from the distance, landing beside him with a mechanical snarl. He swung a leg over the seat.

Loup looked back at Nova, leaning forward with a flirty smirk. “Wanna come with, cutie?”

Behind her, Lobo barked, “Hell no!”

“I wasn’t talkin’ to you!” she yelled, glaring over her shoulder.

She took another drag, exhaled a shimmering cloud, and looked back at Nova.

“We could totally hang out sometime, y’know? I’ll even let you ride my board.”

Metron’s chair drifted lower, its glow washing over the three of them.

Nova’s voice came low, even. “No.”

Loup groaned theatrically. “Mmm. I do love the way you talk.” She winked. “Don’t worry—I’ll be back. Try not to miss me, cutie.”

Lobo revved the Space Hog. “We’re leavin’, now!”

Loup rolled her eyes, calling after him as her board lifted off. “I told you to wait for me! I hate smellin’ your exhaust!”

Both streaked skyward, fading through the haze as the ranch fell quiet again—just the hum of the Mobius Chair hovering in their wake.

Conner frowned, watching the purple trail fade across the sky. “What do you guys think that was about?”

Dick stood beside him, eyes fixed on the shrinking dots of Lobo and Loup vanishing through the dome.

“Not sure,” he said. “But two Czarnians? That can’t be good news.”

Kara floated up, golden light catching along her cape as she rose from the ridge.

Mother Box followed close behind, humming softly.

“Kara?” Kori called, her voice lifting with concern.

Kara didn’t answer—she was already gliding toward Nova.

Damian leapt from the ridge without hesitation, cape flaring as he landed and sprinted toward what was left of the ranch. Conner and Dick followed suit, dropping from the high ground one after another, moving fast to keep pace.

Dust rolled under their boots as they closed in on the wrecked property—the air still buzzing from the energy discharge that had flattened half the field.

The Titans were no longer spectators.

They were closing in on the New God who had just beaten Lobo one-on-one. 

Scene 8: Being of Concept

Kara hit the ground running, boots tearing through the dirt. Nova stood, smoke curling off the black suit beneath his jacket, golden veins of light dimming back to a steady glow as Metron’s chair hovered at eye level. She caught him in a hard embrace as he turned.

“You’re hurt,” she said, pulling back just enough to look him over.

She glanced at Mother Box. “You wanna do your thing?”

PING. PING.

Mother Box unfolded, flattening into a glowing sheet that wrapped over Nova’s wounds, her light pulsing warm and steady.

“Kara,” Nova said, his voice low. “Where is Dani?”

“I left her at the school. No androids there.”

She gave him a look, then smacked his shoulder.

“That’s for making me leave you behind.”

He looked at the spot she hit. Mother Box slid over it, humming quietly.

“I called for backup,” Kara said, glancing at the others landing behind her.

“It’s the Dominion. They’ve replaced everyone in town with androids, and—” She stopped when she noticed the man in the floating chair. “Okay, who’s this guy?”

Metron lowered his hands from where they rested near his chin.

“I am Metron.”

“Right…” Kara muttered, eyes narrowing.

The rest of the Titans closed in around them. Kori floated to Nova and wrapped him in a bright, friendly hug. “Hello, the Gorgeous! It is wonderful to see you again.”

Nova stood stiff as a statue, arms at his sides. He looked over Kori’s shoulder at Kara. Kara gave a quick, awkward smile.

“Kara,” Nova said quietly,

“is this your backup? Three humans and a Tamaranean?”

Conner stepped forward. “Half Kryptonian, actually.”

Nova turned his gaze toward him, golden eyes locking onto blue.

The air between them buzzed. Conner’s breath hitched, chest tightening under the weight of the New God’s presence. He blinked hard, grounding himself.

“Are you Kara’s family?” Nova asked.

Kara groaned. “That’s… complicated.”

Dick took a step forward, pulling Damian along. “Hey, I’m Nightwing. Nice job with Lobo. This is my sidekick, Robin.”

Conner snorted. Damian crossed his arms. “More like your better.”

He looked up at Nova, face set, voice sharp. “You don’t look impressive. Given adequate preparation, I’m confident I could defeat you with half my arsenal.”

Nova’s golden eyes narrowed slightly. “I do not wish to offend, but your heartbeat betrays you.”

Kara stifled a laugh. Kori giggled openly. Even Dick couldn’t help it.

“You’re fortunate I’m not authorized to use my father’s contingency protocols.” Damian shot back.

Metron’s voice cut clean through the noise. “Ahem.”

Nova turned toward him. “You had your display of power. What more do you seek?”

Metron’s chair glided closer, its hum low and even. “Son of Sollis, it is not what I seek, but who. And the answer is you.”

Nova stood tall, shoulders squaring. “Speak plainly.”

Metron’s eyes glowed brighter. “A child of both worlds—Apokolips and New Genesis. Born of defection and illumination. You are the first of your kind. A being of concept, born of fire and illumination—yet ignorant of your own nature.”

Kara’s arm wrapped protectively around Nova’s. “Out with it, dude!”

Metron looked at her briefly, then back to Nova. 

“My, what a strange coupling.” Metron continued calmly. “A Kryptonian,” Metron observed. “One of the most advanced species in this universe. Extinct, save for two—at least, in this dimension.”

“What do you mean, this dimension?” Kara demanded.

He ignored her. “Nova, son of Sollis, it is time for you to return to your home. Highfather must know of you. The balance demands it.”

Nova shook his head. “New Genesis is not my home. This planet is. And it needs defending.”

Metron’s expression didn’t change. “Which is precisely why you must come with me. To defend this world, you must understand what you are.”

Kara moved between them, eyes glowing bright now. “He said no.”

Metron remained unbothered. “Perhaps I am being to opaque. Son of Sollis. If your chosen path is tied to the fate of this planet, then know this: A Dominion incursion is trivial,” Metron said. “What Darkseid will do to this world to claim the Anti-Life Equation will not be.”

Nova’s eyes searched Metron’s, who stared back, unmoving. 

“This matter requires my attention. Perhaps you could simply wait—”

Metron cut Nova off saying, “I would think that one raised in the fires of Apokolips would understand the dangers of Darkseid’s war machine unleashed on a world like this. So domestic. So fragile.”

Nova placed his hand gently on her arm. “Kara… if what he says is true, perhaps I should go.” He looked deep into her eyes.

She turned to him, her voice small now. “B-but, Nova…”

He cupped her face in both hands. “I give you my word, I will return once I have met this Highfather. I have not forgotten my promise. When I return,” he said softly, “we will have that date.”

Kara’s breath caught. She grabbed him by the collar and kissed him hard.

Dick looked away. Conner rubbed the back of his neck.

Damian groaned. “Ugh.”

Kori clasped her hands under her chin, beaming. “Such beauty!”

When they finally broke apart, Kara smirked. “Make that two dates.”

Nova smiled faintly. In perfect Kryptonese, he said, “Va’rei, fekal kokara.”

The air trembled—BOOM!

Metron’s Mobius Chair opened a golden portal behind him. He turned away without a word. Nova kissed Kara’s forehead once, then stepped back. She caught his hand as he moved away, holding it until her fingers slipped free.

He disappeared into the light. The Boom Tube sealed shut.

Kara stood there for a long moment, staring at the space he’d been.

Kori stepped beside her, hand on her shoulder. “He will return to you, Kara,” Kori said gently. “I can feel it.”

Kara took a slow breath and looked up toward the cyan dome. Her jaw tightened. “Yeah,” she said. “But right now—let’s go kick some Dominion ass.”

The air above the ranch still shimmered from the Boom Tube’s afterglow when Kara straightened her posture and touched her temple.

“Okay, Cyborg,” she said through the link. “I need a report. How’s it going?”

Vic’s voice filled her head, clipped and uneasy. “Supergirl. We’ve got a problem. I just lost my link to Mother Box. I can still run scans, maybe a few streets left, but we’ll have to get more direct now.”

Kara exhaled through her nose, steadying herself. “We reached Nova,” she replied. “He’s… taken Mother Box. Gone to New Genesis.”

A beat of silence. “New Genesis? Man, y’all’s love life needs a map.” Then, back to business. “We’re on Hickory Lane. Just about done here. Never thought a town called Smallville had this many kids. Don’t y’all have cable?”

Kara’s lips twitched, but her tone stayed sharp. “Okay, we’ll take the other end and meet you in the middle.”

 She turned to face the team. “Conner, Robin—you’re on distraction. Pull the androids off the streets and keep them busy. Their scanners lock onto Kryptonian signatures. They’ll come straight for you.”

Conner nodded, already cracking his neck. Damian scowled. “Do I look like bait to you?”

“You’ll live,” Kara said flatly. Then, to Dick: “You and Kori are on evac. Get the kids out and link up with Cyborg. Anyone under twenty is human—everyone else, assume hostile.”

Dick nodded once. “What about you?”

“The mines,” Kara said, lifting a few inches off the ground. “That’s where they’re holding the townspeople. Clear your sectors, then signal me. We extract together.”

“Copy that.” Dick turned to the others. “You heard her. Titans, move!”

Conner grabbed Damian by the collar before he could protest.

“Unhand me,” Damian snapped.

“Please keep your hands and feet away from any sharp objects,” Conner said dryly.

He launched skyward, the two vanishing in a streak of red and black.

Kori scooped Dick up bridal-style and took off after them. 

“I really hate this,” he muttered.

Kara was already gone—a blur of red and blue, a sonic boom cracking the quiet sky as she tore across the fields toward the mines.

Scene 9: If You Can Make It There…

The Great Forest of New Genesis stretched beneath Supertown’s golden skyline, endless and alive. The canopy shimmered—sunlight diffused through branches of green, violet, and gold. Every gust of wind carried a faint hum, a pulse moving through the leaves. Roots and moss glowed underfoot, veins of energy threaded through the soil. Even the air felt untouched by decay or time.

In the distance, the scars of old Apokoliptian engines still marked the ridges, half-swallowed by vines and age. The silence here wasn’t peace. It was memory—war paused, not forgotten.

Through the shafts of colored light, she stepped into view. Her attire—soft rose fabric edged with quiet luminescence—moved with her. A black cloak trailed behind, its trim pulsing pink like a slow heartbeat. A small hovering device circled her hand, circuitry flowing in red and amber.

PING. PING.

She glanced down. The glow reflected in her violet eyes, steady and measured. Her reflection flickered in the Mother Box’s surface—soft curls framing her face, a diadem of light at her brow. She tilted her head upward toward Supertown’s distant arc in the sky.

The voice came through the forest like a fault line opening. “Beautiful Dreamer, have you picked up its signal?”

He emerged between the trees—tall, solid, his steps deliberate. Red and black armor fit close to his frame, the metallic plates humming faintly with restrained power. His eyes glowed beneath a silver visor, burning red under a helmet built for war. Silver panels traced his jaw and temple, circuitry alive beneath the surface. At the center of the forehead band, an eight-pointed golden star caught the filtered light.

“Orion,” she said, her tone careful, reverent. “This process takes time. Mother Box needs a baseline before it can isolate something as faint as Radion.”

“We do not have time,” he said, stopping beside her. His voice was low but carried weight, as if shaped by command. “I will not allow Radion Resonance Conduits to remain in this forest for our enemies to use. We clear this sector before sundown.”

“Yes, Orion.” She glanced toward the treeline. “Have you heard word from Vykin, Moonrider, or Bear? Their signals have been distant. Perhaps—”

“They face the same resistance we do,” Orion cut in. “The forest is dense with interference. We take as long as we must.”

Dreamer exhaled slowly. “Very well, I—”

PING. PING. PING.

Both froze. The sound cut through the forest. The glow from the device pulsed faster, flickering across Dreamer’s face. Her eyes widened.

Beautiful Dreamer held the Mother Box close, its pulse growing faster. “Mother Box is detecting two faint signals nearby.”

Orion pressed a control on his belt. The Astro-Harness flared to life—a clean surge of light and controlled force. Iridescent bands wrapped across his shoulders and chest, connecting to panels that unfolded from his back like mechanical wings. The hum deepened as its core lit up, gold bleeding into white.

“Send my Mother Box the location of the second signal,” Orion said. “We split up.”

PING. PING.

He lifted off, the trees bending under the force of his ascent. Within seconds, he was gone, vanishing into the green expanse.

Dreamer adjusted her cloak and stepped forward, the faint glow from her Mother Box leading the way. Each ping echoed through the trunks, a heartbeat in the quiet. She crossed over thick roots and rusted Apokoliptian wreckage, metal long devoured by moss and time.

PING.

PING. PING.

The rhythm quickened. Dreamer slowed, eyes scanning the dense undergrowth.

PING! PING! PING! PING!

She stopped. Ahead, half-buried in the earth, a warship jutted out from the soil. A massive root had grown over its hull; the thrusters still gleamed beneath layers of grime. 

Dreamer raised the Mother Box. “Contact Orion,” Dreamer said. “I’ve found a vessel—likely the Resonance Conduit.”

PING.

She frowned. “His signal is being jammed?”

PING.

“Then reach Vykin. Moonrider. Bear.”

PING. PING.

“Yes, connect me with him.”

PING.

A faint voice crackled through. “Dreamer?”

Her voice eased. “Vykin? Can you hear me?”

The reply came through static. “Yes, Dreamer. I hear you. Are you safe?”

A small smile flickered across her face. “I am. I believe I’ve found one of the devices we’re searching for, but the vessel is trapped beneath a root. Orion’s link is blocked—something is jamming his Mother Box.”

BOOM!

The ground bucked beneath her feet. Dreamer turned sharply, scanning the canopy. Light rippled through the air—but the source wasn’t visible.

She looked back to her Mother Box. “Vykin… did you just open a Boom Tube?”

Through the static: “No. A Boom Tube? From what direc—?”

The connection collapsed into static.

Dreamer’s grip tightened on the device. “Vykin?”

Silence.

“Vykin!”

Scene 10: The Dominion

Kara hovered over the scrubland at the far edge of town. Early evening should’ve drenched everything in gold. Instead, the cyan dome washed the world in cold light. The old Shawnee Ridge Mine stretched beneath her—rusted fencing, collapsed sheds, conveyor belts frozen mid-work. Nothing had moved here in decades.

Except the cars.

Dozens of them. Parked badly. Doors left open. Some abandoned halfway up the dirt road, engines long dead.

She dropped lower, boots just above the ground. Tracks crisscrossed the dirt—hundreds of overlapping footprints, all leading toward the mine.

Her stomach tightened.

Kara pushed her hair back and focused. Her vision cut inward. Layers peeled away. The tunnels lit up in her mind—shafts, supports, widening caverns. And deeper still, past where the mine should’ve ended—

People.

Dozens. Maybe hundreds. All of them wearing heavy visors clamped over their eyes.

“Twelve of them,” she muttered as her vision found the watchers—tall, thin silhouettes, helmets glowing softly, backs arched in the unmistakable Dominator shape. They paced the tunnels, herding the workers.

At the center, something glowed—bright, toxic. She recognized the signature immediately.

Kryptonite.

Her jaw locked.

Through the link, she said, “Found them.”

Dani’s voice jumped in. “Kara? Found who?”

“The missing people. They’re in the old mine.”

“That’s great!” Dani said, her relief unmistakable.

Dick cut in. “Were they alone?”

“No. Twelve Dominators. They’re overseeing forced labor.”

Conner’s voice cut in. “Working on what?”

Kara exhaled. “A massive Kryptonite deposit.”

“Why would the Dominators need Kryptonite?” M’gann wondered. “Their tech already hurts Kryptonians.”

“And why force adults to dig when they’ve got an army of robots?” Wally added. “That feels backwards.”

“Kryptonite radiation interacts with certain alien technologies,” Damian said. “They’re refining it.”

Dick said, “We’ve got a few more streets to clear. Still picking up stragglers.”

“Alright,” Kara said. “I’ll meet you at the school.”

Dani added, “Uh—any chance one of y’all could grab snacks or somethin’? The kids are gettin’ restless. Cheer squad wiped out the vending machines.”

“I got it,” Wally said. “I could eat anyway.”

Kara touched down, shoulders dropping as she let out a long breath.

Dani caught it immediately. “You okay, Kara?”

Kara blinked. “You heard that?”

“Girl, I’m your sister. I can feel what you’re feelin’. Also yes, I heard it.”

Kara rubbed at her forehead. “It’s been a week, Dani. Our drama, the androids, everyone disappearing… and then Nova leaving.”

“Nova’s gone?!”

“Yeah. Someone from his world showed up.Said he had to go home for… balance.”

“Home? You mean that Apokolips place?”Dani asked.

“No. New Genesis.”

“Is he comin’ back?”

Kara took a breath. “He said he would. I don’t know when.”

Damian cut in. “The Fourth World exists outside linear spacetime. He could return centuries from now.”

Conner snapped, “How about you shut up?”

Damian fired back, “I’m not the one discussing private matters on a shared link.”

“Kara, if what Damian said is true,” said Dick, “then Nova could be back any second. These things go both ways.”

Kori added gently, “Yes. When such great passion is shared, one must assume he is eager to return to you, friend Kara.”

Kara forced a breath, steadying herself. “Thanks. But we’ve got work to do. The sooner we get everyone safe, the sooner I can go back to feeling sorry for myself.”

Scene 11: The Dog of War

The Boom Tube snapped shut behind them, leaving only the living hum of the forest. The air was warm, still, and bright—nothing like the choking black haze of Apokolips. Nova’s Mother Box detached from him, its panels folding and reforming into a hovering cube near his shoulder. Metron’s Mobius Chair drifted forward, engines humming low.

“You do not remember this world?” Metron asked.

Nova scanned the trees. Branches curved overhead, leaves catching gold light that filtered down in sheets. “No.”

Metron turned his chair slightly. “This is the Great Forest of New Genesis. A place of spectacular splendor… so they say.”

“Vastly different from Apokolips,” Nova said. “The stories they told in the X-Pit did not do it justice.”

“Yes. Glorious Godfrey prefers a version that suits him.”

Nova faced him. “Why take us here? Does Highfather spend time in the Great Forest?”

“No.”

Another voice cut in behind them—sharp, already annoyed.

“Metron. What are you doing—”

A streak of red and gold tore through the canopy. Orion descended in his Astro-Harness, landing hard enough to shake loose a cluster of leaves. His gauntlet struck the panel on his belt, and the harness folded away in sharp segments, collapsing into its compact form.

He closed the distance in seconds.

“Who are you,” Orion demanded, “and what are you doing here?” He stopped just short of Nova, eyes locked on him. “You reek of Apokolips.”

Nova didn’t flinch. “As do you.”

“This is Nova,” Metron said. “Of Apokolips.”

Orion’s hand lashed out, gripping Nova’s throat. Nova rotated under the hold, snapping the wrist free, and stepped back as golden light flared along the veins of his suit.

“I am not here to fight,” Nova said. “I am here to meet Highfather of New Genesis.”

“Nova was raised in the Happiness Home,” Metron said. “Trained by Big Barda herself.”

Orion started pacing, jaw tight. “Apokolips breeds scum. I will not risk my father—or Supertown—by allowing you to set foot near it.”

Nova’s stare hardened. “I see it in you. The same fire Kalibak carries. The stench of Darkseid.”

Orion’s breathing grew harsh. His eyes flickered red.

“Metron, open a Boom Tube back to Apokolips for this filth. And you will leave that Mother Box,” Orion said. “It does not belong in the hands of an Apokoliptian.”

Nova planted his foot, glow rising like heat from an engine.

Orion lunged.

His fist cracked against Nova’s jaw, snapping his head sideways. 

Before Nova could recover, Orion caught his ankle and hurled him into a tree. The trunk bowed around his spine, the impact shaking loose a rain of bark and dust.

Nova hit the roots and pushed upright just in time for Orion’s shadow to fall over him.

“Last chance,” Orion said. “Leave before you die.”

Nova fired a beam from his hands. Orion slid past it, closing the distance in a blur. His fist drove into Nova’s abdomen—Orion’s strength forcing blood up his throat. Nova dropped, caught his breath, then shot upward with a burst of light,grabbing Orion mid-charge and driving him into another tree.

Orion answered with repeated strikes to Nova’s ribs. One blow forced a wet cough from Nova’s chest. He loosened his grip, staggered back, blood trailing from his chin.

“You Apokoliptian filth,” Orion growled. “You won’t make it a step out of this forest.”

He charged.

Nova met him with an uppercut packed with focused force. Orion left the ground, flew backward, and skidded through the moss before slamming to a stop. His helmet tumbled off, rolling until it hit a root and toppled.

Orion pushed up on his palms, eyes burning.

Nova stood across from him, glow steady, breathing sharp but controlled.

Orion rose, shoulders heaving. “Look at you,” he growled. “All that light. Still nothing but Apokolips trash.”

He lunged.

Nova slid aside, planting a knee straight into Orion’s chest. The hit knocked the air out of him, and Nova followed with a short, brutal punch to the temple. Orion staggered, but recovered just as fast.

He drove a fist at Nova’s ribs. Nova caught it, pivoted, and threw Orion clean over his shoulder. Orion hit the dirt hard but swept Nova’s legs as he landed. Nova crashed onto his back.

Orion wrapped an arm around Nova’s neck and squeezed. Nova shot straight upward, dragging Orion with him—then slammed them both down. The impact rattled the roots beneath them. Orion took the blow full-force and cried out.

Nova scrambled up first. “We do not have to fight.”

Orion came again.

Same punch. Same angle. Nova slipped it—just early enough to avoid the knuckles grazing his cheek. Orion followed with an elbow; Nova caught it and shoved it high. Two sharp counters hit Orion’s torso before he could reset.

Orion tried to grab him, but Nova moved with him this time—matching the footwork, slipping inside the reach, hitting ribs, sternum, chin. Each strike landed cleaner than the last.

Orion’s snarl cut through the trees.

He threw a wild haymaker—nothing like his earlier discipline. The blow smashed across the side of Nova’s head and launched him backward. Before Nova hit the ground, Orion yanked him down by the arm and slammed him into the roots.

Then the fists came. Heavy. Fast. No rhythm to read.

Nova raised an arm. Orion slapped it aside and kept swinging. His eyes glowed red, teeth bared, a low roar rumbling from somewhere deep.

Nova’s face split under the hits. He opened his mouth and fired a beam of golden light, but Orion shoved a hand over it, muscles locking as he pressed hard driving Nova’s head into the roots again and again.

Above them, Metron watched in silence. The Mobius Chair hovered steady, its occupant studying every movement.

Orion hauled Nova up by the throat and slammed him against the trunk. Bark cracked. Orion’s grip tightened, knuckles whitening as he drove another punch into Nova’s jaw.

Orion hurled Nova back.

Nova tumbled across the moss, skidding to a stop. He pushed up on shaking elbows—barely got one knee under him—

—and Orion grabbed his skull with both hands and smashed their foreheads together.

The crack echoed through the trees.

Nova dropped but Orion didn’t let him fall. He dragged him up by the collar and slammed their heads together again. Nova’s legs buckled. Blood dripped down his face.

Orion seized the back of Nova’s head and drove a knee straight into his nose. The hit jerked Nova’s whole body backward. He collapsed, hands sinking into the moss.

His glow sputtered. Then grew brighter. Then flickered again.

He caught the next knee before it landed—hands clamped around Orion’s leg. Orion snarled, swung the other knee, and cracked it across Nova’s cheek. Nova went down flat, rolled onto his back, breath shallow.

Orion grabbed him by the suit and hauled him upright, face inches from Nova’s.

“You will die here,” Orion said—controlled, steady, nothing held back.

He slammed Nova down.

The ground shook. Blood splattered across the roots beneath them.

Orion climbed over him, planting a knee beside Nova’s ribs. His breathing was ragged now, hot bursts through clenched teeth. His eyes burned red as he brought his fist up—

—then hammered it down.

Once. 

Then again. 

Three more from the same arm—each one faster. 

Then the other hand—heavy, snapping Nova’s head to the side. 

Left. Right.
Right, right.
Left—hard.
Right again, knuckles splitting.
Left, left, left—

Each hit landed harder than the last. Blood shook free with every impact.

Orion raised both fists overhead—

—and brought them down together.

The blow hit like a small explosion, dirt and moss blasting outward in a circle around them.

—

Beautiful Dreamer broke into a run, weaving over roots and fallen trunks toward the direction of the Boom Tube she’d heard. The forest shook again—one hit after another—drawing her faster. She slipped between two massive redwood-like trunks and looked up.

Metron hovered above the trees, the Mobius Chair drifting as if carried on a breeze only it could feel.

“Metron!” she called. “Metron, was that your Boom Tube?”

He turned slightly, spotting her. The chair lowered until she could reach him.

“Careful, child,” Metron said, calm, almost bored. “Orion is in one of his fits again. He’s attacking one of his own.”

“That does not sound like Orion,” she said, already moving past him. Then she saw it—Orion kneeling over someone she didn’t recognize, fists rising and falling, each blow shaking the ground.

“That poor welp he beats is Nova, of New Genesis,” Metron added.

Beautiful Dreamer spun toward him. “What?! I must stop him!”

“Careful,” Metron replied, “the Dog of War recognizes no ally in this state.”

She ignored him and stepped forward, circling until she caught the red glow in Orion’s eyes. She raised her hands. Her diadem lit with a soft violet, the color bleeding through the trees. The forest quieted around her—not ethereal, not magical—just silent, like the air held its breath.

Orion dragged in harsh breaths, fists raised again over Nova’s head.

A short pulse rolled outward from Dreamer—barely visible, but felt.

“Orion,” she said, steady and soft.

His fists stopped mid-air. His breath hitched. The red in his eyes flickered.

Another pulse. Slow. Calming. A rhythm his body remembered even when his mind didn’t.

Orion’s arms shook. He strained against the rage tightening every muscle in him. His fists dropped, slamming into the dirt beside Nova instead of into him. He stumbled back, chest heaving like he’d run a marathon.

Dreamer kept her hands raised, her breathing matched to the pulses.

Orion fell against a root. The red finally drained from his eyes.

Nova’s Mother Box drifted toward her in sharp, fast motions.

PING! PING! PING! PING!

Dreamer clutched her own Mother Box. “Please,” she said, breath unsteady, “alert my brothers. I require their presence.”

PING.

Scene 12: A Well Oiled Machine

Boom!

The Titans stepped out of the Boom Tube onto the cracked dirt outside the Shawnee Mines. Beyond the dome, the sky over Smallville was sliding into sunset—orange and gold fading into blue. Inside it, the cyan glow washed everything flat, the mine entrance burning like a warning beacon.

Kara hovered a few inches off the ground, eyes fixed on the dark mouth of the mine. Her vision tunneled inward—walls, supports, old tracks—and then deeper. Rows of people swinging picks in near-perfect rhythm. The sickly radiance of Kryptonite spilling off the walls like steam.

And there—twelve Dominators. Eleven lightly armed. One wrapped in a heavy exo-frame, powering something Kara didn’t like the look of.

She dropped back to the dirt. “Looks like not much has changed. Are we clear on the plan?”

Dick stepped up beside her. “Robin, Kid Flash, and I stay by the entrance. We hit them when they push out.”

M’gann nodded. “Starfire, Cyborg, and I go hunting for their ship and comms. They’ll have to be coordinating from somewhere.”

Conner crossed his arms. “And you and I stand right here looking obvious. Make them think they got lucky.”

Kara cracked a small grin. “Exactly. They’re not all coming out at once, so we need to force a mess. They aren’t tactical. If we scatter them, we win.”

Conner glanced toward the mine. “Are we sure they’re out of androids? They’re flimsy—but those guns hit like a truck.”

“No idea.” Kara shrugged. “But we know their range now. Blades, cannons, basic energy stuff. They weren’t expecting metas to live here.”

Victor flicked open a screen on his arm. “Hold up. I’m picking up a signal—same tech signature as inside the mine. Two hundred yards east.”

“Perfect,” Kara said. “Go check it out. If there are androids, Starfire melts them. M’gann, make sure there aren’t any civilians mixed in.”

Victor, Kori, and M’gann peeled away from the group and shot east.

The ground quieted again. The mine hummed.

Conner stepped closer to Kara. “After we’re done with these guys… can we talk?”

Kara didn’t answer right away. She kept her eyes on the mouth of the mine, the glow reflecting in her pupils.

“…Sure,” she said finally. “If there’s, uh… time.”

—

The air around the three Titans dimmed as they reached the relay site—interlocked metal ribs, cables twitching in coordinated pulses, a bio-metal column breathing beneath the dirt. 

Cyan light strobed upward through translucent nodules at its peak, each pulse lancing a thin beam into the sky. The dome rippled overhead.

“Guys,” Vic said through the link. “I’m pretty sure I found our dome generator.”

M’gann floated closer, brows pulled tight. “It’s alive. I can feel active synaptic patterns.”

Kara’s voice broke through. “Can it be shut off?”

“Not without checking inside its mind,” M’gann said. She touched Vic’s shoulder. “Let me reach out first. If there’s a trap… I should feel it.”

Kori drifted backward a few feet. “Friends… are those not more androids?”

Vic turned.

A line of Facsimiles broke the treeline—then another wave behind them. Dozens. All sprinting low to the ground, limbs cutting the distance fast.

His left arm shifted with a sharp, bone-deep mechanical snap. Plates unfolded; a cannon locked into shape over his forearm. “We got incoming!”

Kori floated beside him, palms glowing bright green.

M’gann rose higher over the relay, eyes whitening, attention locked inward. “I’m starting the link. Please—just hold them.”

The first Facsimile charged straight at Vic.

FWUMP!

His plasma blast tore through its torso in a bloom of molten metal.

Kori fired a volley of starbolts, each strike knocking androids off their feet, tearing gaps in the swarm. The shimmer from the dome overhead flickered across the blasts.

More androids sprinted in. Five leapt at once.

Vic planted a foot, cannon retracting. His arm snapped into a broad-mouthed emitter—PWHUMMMM—sending a high-frequency shockwave rippling through the ground beneath the swarm. An entire row of Facsimiles seized up at once and dropped like malfunctioning puppets.

“They’re still coming!” Vic shouted.

Kori spiraled downward, firing as she moved, carving a circle around M’gann. “None shall pass this line!”

One android vaulted over her blast and stretched a blade toward M’gann—

Vic slammed into it shoulder-first, cleaving through its midsection with the wedge that had replaced his other arm. Parts scattered across the dirt.

Another wave burst from the brush. Three times as many.

M’gann winced. “Just—just a little longer—!”

Vic’s cannon cycled. “We’re gonna be outnumbered in thirty seconds!”

Kori’s hands ignited bright enough to light the clearing. “Then we will simply stand for thirty more.”

The Facsimiles surged again, faster and heavier than before.

And the Titans braced.

—

Kara hovered just outside the mouth of the Shawnee Mines, eyes fixed forward. She thought of Nova anyway.

She shut her eyes, just for a breath, and forced the thought aside.

When she imagined walking back out of the mine with Martha and Jonathan, Nova was there—standing with her, smiling like it was already over.

That made her jaw tighten.

Damian shifted forward, hand tight around his staff. “This is agonizing. I will sneak into the mine and remove the invaders myself.”

Dick snagged the back of his cape and reeled him in. “Nope. You don’t know what’s in there. Dominion tech is never simple. Could be pressure pads, motion triggers, sonic traps—anything.”

Wally leaned back on his heels. “Or I could zip in and scout.”

“And get grabbed the second you slip on a pebble?” Kara said. “No. We wait until Cyborg drops the dome. Once they lose that, they’re boxed in. Only way out is through us.”

Dick stared into the black of the mineshaft again. Didn’t blink. Looked away—then right back.

Conner noticed. “Nightwing? Something wrong?”

Dick exhaled hard through his nose. “I don’t like this staging. The League fought these guys. Batman said the Dominion relies on tech the way he relies on paranoia. Always building, always upgrading. I don’t think they came here unprepared.”

Kara’s arms dropped to her sides. Her fists tightened. “I can’t let this go wrong.”

“No one’s accusing you,” Dick said. “I just don’t think they’re gonna panic and rush out because we’re standing here. They built an impenetrable dome, snuck android replacements into town, kidnapped hundreds without a trace, concealed their landing, buried their ops, hired Lobo—” He shook his head. “They came in with homework done.”

Damian crossed his arms. “The New God is no longer here.”

“Right,” Conner said. “So they’ve got fewer curveballs to deal with. If Kryptonite’s what they wanted, the biggest threats left are us and the rest of the team.”

“Exactly,” Dick said. “Which means the plan shouldn’t be about pushing them out. It should be about making them feel like they’re winning.”

Kara stopped pacing. The idea clicked almost visibly.

“So we make them think we’re rookies.”

Wally blinked. “Wait… you want us to act like idiots?”

“Pretty much,” Kara said. “Let them feel confident. Confident people slip.”

She stepped toward the entrance, posture casual—on purpose. Walking like someone who didn’t expect a fight. As she passed Wally, she didn’t slow. “C’mon. If they blast me with Kryptonite, grab me and run. Make it look real. They’ll chase.”

Wally grinned. “Right behind ya, gorgeous.”

Conner raised a hand. “And if they don’t use Kryptonite?”

“I’ll fake the hit,” Kara said.

She floated off the ground, slipping into the darkness. Wally blurred forward beside her, a streak of red and yellow snapping into the mine.

The others stayed at the entrance as the shadows swallowed Kara and Wally in seconds.

Scene 13: Fool Me Once…

Thanagar’s skyline burned gold in the far distance—jagged stone towers laced with Nth-metal veins—but the crash site itself was bare, nothing but cracked ground. Three alien drones lay half-buried in the dust, each one pulsing with a faint, eerie blue.

Thanagarian soldiers kept a tight perimeter, wings half-spread, spears trained outward. Two soldiers dragged away another victim—still breathing, but blank-faced, staring past everything.

Clark, Bruce, Diana, Hal, and Shayera stood well outside the danger zone, deliberately so.

Batman detached a small matte-black device from his belt without looking. He tossed it upward. It snapped open midair—two angular wings unfolding with a sharp chk-chk of locking metal. The Bat-Drone hummed to life, drifting toward the closest alien construct as Bruce flicked through readings on his gauntlet.

“It’ll take some time for the drone to scan them fully,” Bruce said.

Hal crossed his arms. “Bat-Drone. Batmobile. Bat-this, Bat-that. You ever take a day off from the branding?”

Bruce made a low, irritated sound in his throat.

Shayera smacked Hal’s shoulder. “Come on. Carter should be at the outpost. Let’s check on the ones who got too close—your ring might help more than our medics.”

Hal floated after her, rubbing his shoulder.

Diana stayed with Bruce and Clark. Her eyes traced the formation of soldiers, the perimeter, the victims—measuring.

“About Nova,” Clark said. “What do you think? Is he… a killer?”

Diana didn’t look away. “He is a warrior.”

Bruce reviewed engine readings, face still. Diana continued.

“A boy raised on Apokolips—by Granny Goodness—there is no childhood in that.” said Clark.

“He said he killed Kanto to protect Barda,” Bruce added. “He didn’t sound shaken. He sounded like he was reporting the weather.”

Diana nodded once. “Because that’s what he was taught to be. Efficient. Directed. His fight with Lobo showed the same things—pattern recognition, adaptability, escalation. That wasn’t improvisation—that was training.”

Clark paced a few steps, hands braced at his sides. “He didn’t flinch, Diana. He told us like it was nothing. I’ve taken lives. I know what that feels like. But he didn’t seem to feel anything.”

“Conditioning,” Bruce said. “He wasn’t bragging. He wasn’t hiding guilt. He executed the next step in a sequence. That’s how soldiers from Apokolips operate.”

Clark’s jaw tightened. “Then what kind of life did he have? If killing feels like following instructions?”

“It wasn’t a life,” Diana said quietly. “It was survival under tyranny.”

Clark stopped moving. His breath slowed.

Bruce watched him. “He operates under a different framework than we do.”

“Yes,” Diana agreed. “His choices aren’t made at a human scale. Not even a Kryptonian one. They’re made at the level of cosmic order. If his intention is protection, then the method reflects where he was forged, not who he is.”

Clark swallowed hard. “We can’t treat him like a bomb waiting to go off.”

“That’s what Diana said,” Bruce reminded him.

“No,” Clark said, shaking his head. “It’s bigger than that. Nova’s not a Titan. He’s not a trainee. He’s older than he looks—older than any of us. He’s been fighting longer than we have.” He looked between them. “He doesn’t need us to break him in. We have to trust that if he takes a life, it’s because he had no other choice—not because he’s drifting toward Apokolips. And if he ever did start down that path… that’s when we step in. But not now. Not when he’s fighting so hard to be more than what he was taught.”

“Clark,” Bruce said again.

Clark turned.

The Bat-Drone glided back, wings folding as it docked into Bruce’s gauntlet.

Bruce checked the data. His eyes sharpened behind the lenses. “It’s Maxwell Lord’s tech.”

Clark’s expression hardened.

“We destroy these drones,” Bruce said. “And get back to Earth. Now.”

Clark didn’t hesitate. His eyes flashed red.

FWOOOM.

The three alien drones melted into slag, the ground beneath them glowing orange.

—

Bruce, Clark, and Diana moved fast—three streaks cutting low across the barren field toward the Thanagarian outpost.

The tents were lined in tight rows, wings and armor glinting in the gaps. Inside one of the medical shelters, Hal stood over a cot, his ring projecting a steady green scan across the body of an unconscious soldier. Shayera hovered nearby, arms folded, jaw tight.

Bruce stepped in. “Hawkwoman. Hal. We need to leave. Now. It’s Maxwell Lord’s tech.”

The green scan dimmed as Hal looked up. “Yeah, we just pulled that off the ring. The effect’s temporary. Messy, but temporary.”

“It’s disguised as alien,” Clark said, “but it’s Earth-made. All of it.”

Shayera lifted a hand. “Hold on—why does that mean we have to leave?”

Bruce didn’t mince words. “It’s a diversion. Someone wanted us off-world long enough for something to happen back home.”

Hal rose a few inches off the ground, already convinced. “What possible reason would Lord have to pull us off Earth?”

“No idea,” Bruce said, “but if he’s moving pieces on Thanagar, then the real objective isn’t here.”

Shayera beat her wings once and lifted to their height. “I should stay. We still need Zeta portals set up. And someone has to explain this mess to Carter.”

Clark nodded. “J’onn’s monitoring the network. He can walk you through portal integration. Come with us long enough to collect the equipment.”

Shayera signaled two nearby Thanagarians. They sprinted over, wings snapping open.

“Secure the outpost,” she ordered. “No one goes near those crash sites until the League is back.”

They nodded and took positions.

Shayera turned back to the others. “Let’s move.”

The team shot into the sky—five silhouettes against Thanagar’s burning horizon—arrowing for the Javelin and the fastest route home.

Scene 14: Scramble!

The telepathic link hummed softly in Kara’s mind.

“I can already feel the effects,” she said. “That Kryptonite deposit’s gotta be huge.”

Dick came through next. “Let Kid-Flash take point.”

“No.” Kara dropped lower into the tunnel, hovering inches above the rail. “They need to underestimate us right away. If they don’t, they’ll dig in. Hide behind the hostages.”

A gust of wind rushed past her as Kid-Flash blurred deeper into the mine.

“Tunnels are clear,” Wally reported. “Well—except the main one. Everyone’s gathered there. Looks like the Dominators want eyes on all their workers.”

Kara and Wally reached the old lift platform—nothing more than rusted metal grating suspended over a wide shaft. Kara stepped off the edge and floated down, while Wally ran along the shaft wall beside her, using handholds and outcroppings to control his descent.

Below, the main tunnel opened like the mouth of a cavern.

Dozens of Smallville residents worked in silence. Pickaxes, drills, shovels. All of them wearing the same neural visor—opaque, dimly glowing, wired directly into the skull-cap. Every strike they made sent small motes of green radiance drifting into the air.

Floating lead-lined carts glided along magnetic rails. Kara watched one worker drop another fist-sized chunk of Kryptonite into a cart so overloaded it rattled as he placed it. The worker pressed a button on the side—pshhk—the cart sealed itself automatically.

“Lead carts,” Kara muttered. “They came expecting Kryptonians.”

Wally crouched low beside her. “So what’s the plan? We jump in, act stupid, hope they chase us?”

She nodded once, jaw tight. “It’s the only way to pull them away from the hostages without tipping our hand.”

Wally cracked his neck. “Alright then. Front door it is.”

Kara floated forward until the green glow brushed across her face. She ignored the sting behind her eyes, sucked in one steadying breath, and said—

“Let’s drop in.”

Kara and Wally dropped straight down the vertical service shaft, landing on solid stone. The cavern opened below them—wide, loud, packed with Smallville’s missing townsfolk. Rows of workers chipped at a single massive Kryptonite monolith, its glow bright enough to paint everything sickly green. Their visors pulsed in perfect rhythm, keeping them moving like machines.

The radiation hit Kara immediately. Her stomach twisted. Her boots scraped stone as her flight dipped, the green light burning behind her eyes.

“You good, beautiful?” Wally asked through the link, catching her elbow.

“I’m fine.”

She wasn’t. Her vision blurred at the edges. She scanned faces—fast, desperate. No Martha. No Jonathan. No Dani’s parents. No familiar heartbeats. Just the steady hum of controlled labor.

“Supergirl!” Wally’s voice cracked through her mind.

Cyan energy blasts tore down from above. Kara rolled aside as bolts scorched the ground where she’d been standing.

The Dominion stood on engineered platforms carved into the rock walls—yellow skin, needle teeth, red caste marks glowing like open wounds. Their rifles tracked in unison, firing measured volleys that never risked hitting the workers below.

Then the largest of them stepped forward.

He leapt from the platform, landing hard enough to shake dust loose from the ceiling. His red caste emblem was massive, almost crown-sized. His armor unfolded over his body as he walked—metal plates locking, gold circuitry flaring to life.

Every step was pointed at Kara.

Wally blurred past him and struck the chest plate.

“Gaah!” He shook out his hand, zipping back beside her. “Sheesh—that almost broke my hand!”

“We need to retreat,” Kara said, trying to lift off, barely managing inches. “We’re… too close to the Kryptonite.”

The armored Dominator lunged.

He slammed into them, sending both Kara and Wally skidding across the stone. Kara hit the cavern wall, vision doubling. Her heat vision flickered weakly before bouncing off his armor and sputtering out.

Wally yanked her upright just in time to dodge another barrage. “We gotta go now.”

He pulled her into his arms and sprinted straight up the shaft wall, boots pounding rock at impossible angles.

Behind them, the armored Dominator barked a sharp command.
Three riflemen dropped from their platforms, grabbing hold of him as his suit’s thrusters ignited.

The four of them shot upward, bolts lighting the shaft like a strobe.

Kara turned her head, forcing her eyes to focus. She loosed a weak burst of heat vision—barely a spark—but it missed, carving into the wall.

They were still gaining.

“Wally…”

“Yeah, that suit’s something else.” He didn’t slow.

The armored Dominator raised an arm. The suit shifted—plates sliding, forming a cannon. Light gathered at the mouth.

The blast fired.

It streaked toward them—

“Comin’ in hot, guys!” Wally yelled through the link as they launched out of the mine’s mouth into open air.

Wally and Kara tumbled out of the mine’s entrance in a burst of dirt and light as a cyan blast ripped past them. Conner was already moving. He slid in behind Kara, catching her under the arms before she hit the ground.

“Th-they’re coming,” Kara breathed, barely upright.

Heavy mechanized footsteps echoed from inside the mine. A distorted voice followed:

“It would behoove us to come to an agreement.”

Kara pushed Conner’s hands off her and forced herself to stand. Her knees wobbled, but she held.

“Sure,” she said. “Once you let the townsfolk go and crawl back into whatever ship you came from.”

The armored Dominator stepped out into the open, flanked by three others. His suit reconfigured as he stopped—panels locking, energy nodes dimming. The riflemen kept their weapons pointed down; disciplined, but ready.

“Not until we have collected what we came for.” The armored one tilted his head, studying her. “Permit us to finish our task, and we will depart this world unharmed.”

“Yeah, no,” said Dick, stepping forward.

“There are literally hundreds of kids out here,” Kara snapped. “Scared and alone because of you.”

The link crackled to life.

Victor’s voice cut in first. “Bots are slowin’ down, y’all.”

M’gann followed. “I’m almost through their comms. Once I disconnect them, we shut down the relay.”

Kara answered, “We managed to pull four of them out. Eight still in the mines.”

Kori chimed in, “Miss Martian, perhaps you can pass through the ground and reach them unseen?”

“Not without alerting the Dominion,” M’gann said. “Their sensors are layered through the stone.”

Kara asked, “Can you disguise yourself as one of them?”

“Yes,” M’gann said after a beat. “I can mimic their physiology well enough.”

Kara shifted to Robin. “If M’gann gets in, she’ll need backup. Think you can get inside with her?”

Damian didn’t hesitate. “Naturally.”

Victor broke in again. “Once the relay drops, we’re comin’ back your way. Just hang tight.”

Kara nodded once, then looked at Conner. “Did Clark teach you the Kryptonian Merry-Go-Round?”

Conner shook his head. “Nth metal armor, Kara. Drill Press’ll work better.”

“Then do it.”

In a blink, Conner wrapped his arms around Kara’s waist, pivoted, planted his foot, and hurled her like a perfect spiral straight into the armored Dominator’s chest. The impact dented the plating and launched him backward in a crack of metal.

Kara hit the ground beside him as he skidded, grabbed both legs, and whipped him overhead—throwing the armored brute into the air.

Two riflemen snapped their weapons up at her—only for Dick and Damian to drop in from above, cracking both Dominators across the skull with perfectly timed twin kicks. They hit the dirt in a heap.

The third raised his blaster, but Conner rammed him like a linebacker, scooping him up and flinging him into the other two with a single motion.

Above them, the armored Dominator’s thrusters flared. He rocketed downward, arms shifting into twin blades.

Kara barely rolled aside as he struck, metal cleaving stone where her head had been. She swept his legs, dropping him flat. The mech hit the ground with a seismic thud.

A burst of static cyan energy ripped out from the Armored Dominator’s suit, the air snapping like a live wire, throwing everyone backward—including the other Dominators. Dirt kicked up in a ring around him as he rose, armor plates locking into place with a grinding snap.

“Insolent brats!”

His arm reconfigured—metal folding, locking, reshaping into a heavy cannon. The charge built fast, whining high, bright cyan swelling in the chamber.

Kara tried to push off the ground, but her limbs dragged, her muscles shaking. The Kryptonite in the cavern had hollowed her out from the inside.

The cannon fired.

Conner blurred into view, shoving past her with barely a breath between them.

The blast hit him full-force.

He rocketed backward, slammed headfirst into the top edge of the mine entrance, and dropped like a stone.

Unconscious before he hit the dirt.

Kara’s eyes widened, but she barely had time to register it. The Armored Dominator seized her by the throat and lifted her off the ground, her boots scraping at the dirt.

Only Conner lay still. The three rifle-bearing Dominators were unconscious. Dick and Damian were gone.

“Please tell me you guys are in the mines,” Kara pushed through the telepathic link, her voice strained.

“Sure are,” Dick answered.

Victor followed: “We’re on our way back. Miss Martian shut down the relay, but the dome’s still up. Looks like there’s a backup system powering it.”

The Dominator leaned close, mandibles flaring slightly as he breathed her in.

“Weak. Kryptonite poisoning,” he murmured. “Good.”

He hurled her across the clearing, her body skidding through dirt.

Kara hit a tree hard enough to shake bark loose. dropped, and barely had time to suck in a breath before he blurred—thrusters screaming as he cut the distance in an instant. His grip locked under her jaw again, slamming her flat against the trunk.

His free fist hit her midsection. And again. And again. Each blow drove a sharp grunt out of her, the shockwaves rattling branches overhead.

“I am sick of this world,” he snarled.

He threw her upward like a ragdoll. As gravity pulled her back down, he planted and met her descent with a brutal punch to the face. The hit sent her crashing into a parked truck, metal folding inward around her like foil.

Kara slid off the crumpled hood. She pushed herself halfway up, vision doubled, tried a burst of heat vision on instinct.

The beam struck his Nth metal plating and scattered harmlessly.

He laughed.

“Trivial. Your overconfidence has always been your downfall.” His armor shifted, lights flaring brighter. “What made you think you could best the Dominion’s supreme military mind, Commander Xul?”

He stepped in and launched a kick into her ribs. The impact blasted her and the wrecked truck backward into a line of abandoned cars, metal shrieking as they crunched together.

Kara gasped, rolling onto her side.

Xul stalked forward without hurry, like he had all the time in the world.

He reached down, grabbed her by the leg, and whipped her through the air—once, twice—slamming her body against the mangled truck over and over until the metal buckled beneath her weight.

Then, with a final heave, he hurled her skyward—

Commander Xul hit his thrusters and shot straight upward after her, grip locking around the front of Kara’s suit before she could steady herself. The moment he caught her, the two of them blasted toward the ceiling of the dome like a missile.

They hit it.

The cyan barrier didn’t just stop her—it electrocuted her.

Kara’s back arched instantly. A jagged burst of energy lashed across her body, crawling along her arms, snapping down her legs. Her cape cracked like it had been hit by lightning. Her jaw clenched; a broken sound caught in her throat as her vision fractured with cyan static.

Xul lifted her higher, pressing her directly into the barrier.

Another surge tore through her.

Her muscles seized all at once. Fingers curled. Her eyes rolled and flickered red, then dimmed. The shock cut straight past her Kryptonian durability like it was nothing—raw energy designed to repel beings like her.

Before the current finished pulsing, Xul pulled her off the dome and hammered a fist into the side of her face. Once. Twice. A third strike snapped her head the other way, blood flying into the air. He let the momentum carry her and shoved hard.

She went flying.

The force threw her across half of Smallville, her body a streak ripping through the air before she crashed through the football field’s scoreboard—tearing it in half—and slammed onto the 30-yard line, carving a divot through the turf.

Kids screamed and scattered across the field, bodies colliding as panic ripped through the bleachers.

Commander Xul dropped from the sky a second later, landing beside Kara with a heavy metallic thud that rattled the nearest benches. His head turned toward the children. The red circle on his forehead brightened.

“Perhaps,” he said, voice flat and metallic, “it is time you learned the cost of interference.”

Kara pushed one hand against the grass, forcing herself upright despite the tremor running through her arm. Her breathing hitched as she forced herself upright, pain shuddering through her arm. Xul’s thrusters ignited, flooding the field with cyan light.

One forearm reshaped into a serrated blade. The other folded open into a cannon.

Kara spat blood into the dirt, wiped her mouth, and lifted her head just in time to see him charging.

Commander Xul closed the distance and slashed down. Kara shot upward, barely clearing the blade, and whipped a roundhouse kick into the side of his helmet.

Xul’s head snapped a fraction—then steadied. He drove the point of his arm-blade upward, trying to catch her mid-spin. Kara twisted away, caught his forearm, and wrenched it back.

The cannon on his opposite arm snapped open.

A cyan blast tore out and slammed into her torso, knocking the air from her lungs.

Kara hit the turf and rolled, dirt kicking up around her as the kids and teens scattered from the sidelines.

Dani’s voice came through the link, sharp and panicked. “She’s down! Kara’s down—he’s on the field!”

Dick answered, "We’ve got our own situation. Where’s Superboy?"

"I—I don’t see him," Dani said.

“Xul’s mine,” Kara pushed through. “Stay with the kids.”

Xul dropped toward her, slowing to a hover as he touched down a few yards away.

“This will be my final offer,” he said. “Leave us to finish our task, and we will depart peacefully.”

Kara dragged herself back onto her feet, planting herself between Xul and the field.

From behind her, Alice shouted, voice cracking, “Supergirl—!”

Hallie swallowed hard. “Please… get him.”

Xul looked past Kara at the teens. “Pity. They do not understand how close you are to breaking.”

Kara didn’t answer. She steadied her legs beneath her, breath shaking. Her vision doubled, then steadied. She stared at Xul until the red behind her eyes burned hot and sharp.

She fired—forcing everything she had left into it.

The blast hit him square in the face, snapping his head back and sending him stumbling. 

Kara marched in, drove a kick into the joint where his knee plates didn’t meet, and forced him down on one leg. She grabbed the collar ridge of the suit, hauled him up, and slammed him onto the field. 

Then she blasted forward, dragging him across the grass toward the goalposts, as he flailed, swinging blind, the cannon arm slamming into her ribs with dead, unfocused impacts.

They skidded to a stop at the field goal. Xul’s helmet smacked the metal beam with a hard clang.

Kara dropped him, staggered, then focused on the back of the suit. That glowing cyan node—she’d seen it before. Same signature as the dome. Same as the android cannons.

She flipped him over, planted a knee on his shoulder, and hammered her fist into the node. Once. Twice. On the third hit, the metal gave. The light sputtered, cracked—then died.

Above them, the cyan dome flickered like a glitching screen—and the pressure in the air vanished as it began to dissolve.

Kara hit Xul in the back of the head with everything she had left.

He collapsed—breathing, but out cold.

Kara fell back, bracing herself on an elbow as she sucked in air.

Dani broke from cover first—hesitated—then ran.

Hallie followed, scanning the field. “Careful! He could get back up!”

Alice trailed right behind. “Wait for me, ladies!”

They reached Kara, who was still on the ground, bruised, cut, and singed.

Alice knelt. “Are you okay?”

“Peachy,” Kara muttered.

Dani and Hallie hooked their arms under hers and helped her stand. Kids poured onto the field, cheering—some chanting “Supergirl,” others just shouting her name.

M’gann’s voice cut in. “Supergirl—the Dominators are down. All of them.”

Kara patted Dani’s shoulder. “I’ll—uh—be right back, citizens!” she said, the words a little breathless. 

She grabbed Commander Xul by the ankle and hauled him clear of the field before lifting off with him dangling behind her. Her flight wobbled at first—just a second too long—but she forced herself steady and shot toward the mine.

"Nice," she answered through the link. "Commander Xul’s down too. Think you guys can get rid of that Kryptonite so I can get down there?"

"Cyborg’s on it," M’gann said. “He’s opening a Boom Tube—sending it into Jupiter’s atmosphere.”

Kara blinked. “Huh,” she said. “Okay. That’s… effective.” She pushed herself faster. 

“Anybody checked on Conner?” Kara asked, the smirk already fading.

“Not yet,” Dick said. “Damian’s stuck in a hole and I’m… coping.”

Kara couldn’t help the little smirk. At least some things were still normal. 

Scene 15: Smallville’s Own

The sitting room was quiet except for the soft crackle of the digital fireplace. Warm browns, polished wood, cushioned furniture—every detail expensive, controlled. Lex Luthor sat in a deep leather chair, one arm in a sling, a drink balanced in his good hand. Mercy stood beside him with a tray and her phone, scrolling.

“Looks like my niece is at school,” she said.

Luthor didn’t look up. “On a Sunday?”

Mercy’s thumb slowed. “There’s a dome over the town. Supergirl and the Titans are inside it.”

That made Luthor look.

Mercy kept scrolling. “Kids evacuated to the football field… and—Oh.” She stopped scrolling. “That’s a problem.”

She tapped a thumbnail and cast it to the wall screen.

Supergirl—mid-air—Commander Xul dangling upside down from her grip like a captured animal.

Luthor’s jaw tightened.

“That,” Mercy said, “is happening right now behind Smallville High.”

Luthor set his drink down with a soft, controlled clink.

“Get me Loup.”

Mercy was already on it. She moved to the desk, fired up the comms screen, and stepped aside as Luthor approached and sat.

Loup’s feed snapped on—a close-up of the exhaust pipes on the Space Hog, rattling under a thumping space-metal track.

“What?” she said, voice lazy, bored, irritated all at once.

“Loup,” Luthor said, “tell me the Dominion already handed over our portion of the Kryptonite.”

A beat.

“Uncle Lobo! Turn that fraggin’ racket down, I’m on a biz call!”

Luthor exhaled through his nose. “Tell me we have enough Kryptonite to begin my order.”

“Dude, relax. Your toys are already printing. We were just topping off those weird little yellow dudes—they were freakin’ out about Kryptonians or whatever. Don’t know.”

“Before you left, did your uncle encounter any superheroes? Specifically Supergirl?”

“Nah, boo,” Loup said, taking a long drag from her purple vape. “Just some Kryptonian chick, a couple humans in tights, and, oh! The cutie who separated your shoulder? He was there. He kicked my uncle’s ass. Clean.”

Off-screen Lobo shouted, “Bastich cheated!”

“Shut up, unc!” she barked, before turning back to Lex. “Yeah, you’ll get the order first, like we said. But seriously—no rush, right? You waited this long.”

“Actually,” Luthor said, leaning forward, “Supergirl and the Titans are involved. I need you to fast-track the order.”

“Nope,” Loup snapped, waving her vape. “I don’t do rush. You’ll get your stuff in one full cycle of your planet. That’s the deal, Tako Bōzu,” she said, smirking.

Luthor slammed a hand on the desk. “Listen to me, clone. I can offer double the asking price. I need that shipment twice as fast.”

Loup laughed, deep and raspy. She exhaled shimmering purple vapor into her camera. “Careful, Terran. I got toys that’ll turn your rock into confetti before you can say ‘my bad.’”

Luthor closed his eyes, counted a breath, forced his shoulders down.

Loup smirked. “Look… I can rush half the order. But it’s triple the price.”

“Yes,” Luthor said immediately. “Fine. Thank you.” 

He cut the feed before she could add anything else. His hand stayed on the switch a moment longer, knuckles white.

Mercy approached quietly and set a napkin beside him with two pills. “Are these even working on your shoulder?”

Luthor tore the sling off, jaw tight. “I’m fine.” 

He snatched the pills, swallowed them with the last of his drink, then crossed the room to refill the glass.

When he turned back toward the screen, it was still showing the freeze-frame of Supergirl hauling Xul into the sky.

“Mercy,” he said, voice cold, “arrange a meeting. It’s time we all reassessed.”

“On it,” Mercy said, settling behind the desk again.

Scene 16: Must Be Nice

Kara touched down hard beside the unconscious Dominators and moved straight for Conner.

She knelt, shaking his shoulder. “Hey. Wake up, Conner.”

He groaned, eyes cracking open. He rubbed the back of his head. “Okay… that one actually hurt.”

Kara raised an eyebrow. “You’re lucky Batman’s drones aren’t recording this.”

Conner caught her offered hand. She pulled him up, steadying him as he swayed.

Kori, Damian, and M’gann emerged from the mine a second later. M’gann floated the last of the bound Dominators behind her, lowering them to the dirt before rushing straight to Conner.

“Are you alright?” she asked, taking his arm.

Conner blinked, steadying himself. “Y-yeah. How’d it look down there?”

M’gann released his arm and turned to Kara. “Nightwing, Kid Flash, and Cyborg are removing the visors. Everyone’s waking up.”

Nearby, Damian crouched beside Commander Xul’s mech suit as Kori burned away a warped panel. The metal didn’t melt—it drank the heat.

Damian frowned. “As I suspected. Nth Metal. Starfire—target only the seams. Anything that’s not Nth Metal should come apart.”

Kori adjusted her aim, her starbolts thinning into pinpoint beams.

Kara stepped closer, watching the metal glow but refuse to give.
“Nth Metal? The stuff Hawkwoman and Hawkman use?”

“Precisely,” Damian answered. “Nth Metal absorbs energy. Push it too far, it detonates. We won’t survive the blast.”

Kara rolled her eyes. “You really gotta stay out of Bruce’s files, kid.”

“S-Supergirl?”

Kara froze. 

She turned toward the voice echoing out of the mine.

Wally and Dick approached first—covered in dust but unharmed. Behind them, townsfolk filtered into view, blinking under real light for the first time in hours.

Her gaze locked onto Jonathan and Martha. Their eyes were warm—focused. Real. Not the dead glass she’d seen in their copies.

Jonathan moved toward her, Martha right behind him.

—

A few hours later, night had settled over Smallville.

The cyan dome was gone. The sky was clear again—wide, dark, full of thin stars. The Kent farmhouse sat quiet beneath it, porch light spilling across the gravel drive.

Kara sat on the porch railing, boots hooked around the wood slat, flannel thrown around her shoulders. White crop top. Black yoga pants. She leaned forward, forearms resting on her knees, eyes locked on the road.

Inside, a TV murmured. Something clinked in the kitchen. Two heartbeats inside. Safe.

Kara breathed out through her nose.

She looked at her phone and typed, “How’s the motel?”

Dani replied a second later.

“Your boyfriend owes me a house.”

A faint BOOM echoed from the end of the driveway.

Kara’s head lifted. She focused her vision. Titans. Shapes she knew. One broke off from the group and started toward the house.

She sighed.

Conner.

She tucked the money for the pizza she awaited back into her pocket and sat upright.

Conner stepped into the porch light. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Mind if we have that chat now?”

Kara motioned toward the rocking chair. He nodded once, climbed the steps, and sat. The wood creaked as he leaned back, taking in the porch, the silence, the house.

“Looks like we won’t have to worry about the Dominion for a while,” he said.

“Yep.”

He studied her. “Look… I’ll skip to the awkward part. I said some crap at the Fourth. I was mad. I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

Kara nodded. “Okay.”

Silence.

Conner let out a slow breath. “Since we both kinda unloaded on each other, maybe we should—”

“Conner,” Kara cut in, eyes still on the driveway. “I really don’t want to do this right now.”

“We keep doing this,” Conner said.

“Doing what?”

“This.” He gestured between them. “We avoid it. Clark thinks we should fix this. He wants us to be a family.”

Kara’s jaw tightened. “Family.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Our lives aren’t normal. We need people.”

“I had people,” Kara said. “I had a planet full of people.”

“But now you have us.”

Kara laughed once. It wasn’t amused. She pushed off the railing and faced him.

“It’s you, Conner.”

He froze, eyes narrowing just a bit. “Me?”

“You’re a clone,” Kara said quietly. 

“You’re proof that someone took my family—our blood—and cut it apart until it was something they could use. And I know that isn’t your fault. I know that. But you’re what’s left when everything else gets stolen.”

Conner’s jaw set. He looked past her, not at her.

Kara kept going, voice shaking but steady. “You sound like Kal. You look like Kal. Sometimes you stand like him and it just—hits. Krypton is gone. And even after that, people still find ways to pick through the ashes and take whatever’s left.”

Conner swallowed. “I didn’t ask to be made.”

"I know," Kara said, softer now. "I know. But I can't look at you without feeling how much I—" 

Her voice broke. She turned away, hands clenched at her sides. 

At the end of the drive, two bright headlights appeared crawling up the gravel road. A bouncy plastic pizza squeaked as the car bounced towards the house. 

Kara wiped her face fast, not looking back. "Just... give me space. Please. I can't do this right now." 

Conner stood there, jaw locked, eyes flicking once towards the approaching lights—then back to her. 

He nodded once. "Yeah," he said quietly. 

He stepped off the porch and headed down the drive, passing the pizza guy without a word, shoulders tight, head down. 

As the car door thumped shut, Conner kept walking.

Kara stayed where she was.