Reborn as flatline and I have the powers of Rogue Sun in DC

I'm in DC.

The thought lingered in Nika's mind, stirring emotions she couldn't fully grasp.

Knock, knock.

"Nika, get up now!"

Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of her sister's voice cutting through the haze of her thoughts.

"I'm awake! I'll take a quick shower, then head down, alright?" she called out, her voice still groggy but far stronger than it had been in her old life.

She listened as her sister, Mila, lingered for a second before heading downstairs. Nika followed the sound of her footsteps until they faded away.

Silence returned.

I'm really in DC.

She lay still for a moment, letting that reality sink in.

Her emotions tugged in every direction. On one hand, this was the greatest thing that had ever happened to her. DC had been her escape, the one thing that kept her grounded through years of sickness and hospital stays. But now that she was here, the weight of it settled heavily on her chest.

DC wasn't just a world of heroes. It was a world of villains, invasions, and destruction on a scale beyond imagination.

Cataclysms happened here weekly. Entire cities fell. The world could end twice in a month.

Still… her lips twitched into a faint smile.

As terrifying as it was, this was also her chance to live.

Back in her old world, her body had betrayed her. No matter how much she had wanted to travel, explore, or even just step outside without feeling fragile, it had never been possible.

But here?

She could finally see everything.

Atlantis. Themyscira. Space. All of it.

Even better, she could meet the heroes she had admired for so long—the people who had given her hope when everything else felt too heavy to bear.

Her gaze drifted toward the mirror by the dresser.

And luckily, I was born as the perfect character to adapt to this world.

Pushing the blanket aside, she stood up, feeling the strength in her legs. It was strange—she hadn't felt this stable in years.

Each step toward the mirror felt surreal, as if the floor beneath her feet wasn't entirely real. But as she drew closer, her heart skipped.

She stopped just short of the glass.

Staring back at her wasn't the girl she remembered.

Nika's breath caught.

The girl in the mirror was beautiful.

Even with messy hair and the soft haze of sleep still in her eyes, there was no denying it. Her features were sharp, almost ethereal. She looked like she had walked straight out of a comic book.

Nika blinked, brushing a hand through her hair. Not even bedhead could dull this.

For a moment, she simply stared, taking in the unexpected reflection.

I'll take this over being average any day.

Her family wasn't unattractive, but no one would have ever stopped on the street to admire them. This, however, was on a different level.

She knew exactly who she was looking at.

Flatline.

Lord Death Man's prodigy. A character perfectly suited for surviving the chaos of DC.

Nika grinned to herself. I could've done a lot worse.

But as much as she wanted to enjoy the moment, her thoughts shifted.

Before she could make any long-term plans, she needed to know where she stood.

What part of the timeline am I in?

She remembered a fair amount from the comics she collected, but she hadn't been able to read everything. Money had always been tight, and there were gaps in her knowledge.

Still, she had enough to start with.

Nika grabbed the phone resting by the bed, surprised once again by the ease with which her hand moved. No pain. No trembling.

She pressed the power button. No password.

The phone unlocked immediately.

Good.

Opening the browser, she began searching, hoping to find out what major events had passed and which ones were on the horizon.

Nika scrolled through her phone, her fingers moving quickly as she sifted through article after article. A few minutes in, everything seemed to match up with the DC timeline she remembered. The major events from the comics had all taken place, and so far, there weren't any strange divergences that threw her off.

She exhaled softly, leaning against the edge of her bed. At least the world hasn't completely spiraled out of control.

DC was dangerous—she knew that much. But as terrifying as it was to live here, there was a strange comfort in knowing what was coming.

I'm in the worst version of this universe the comics, she thought, but it's also the one with the biggest adventures.

The familiar danger almost made it easier to accept. At least she wasn't dealing with some insane alternate DC where everything was unpredictable. She could work with this.

Her eyes flicked toward the corner of the screen. If everything's on track, then Damian Wayne should be with Batman by now.

She scrolled further. One year in.

That would make him about eleven. The timeline aligned exactly how she expected, which meant everything was happening as it should.

For the first time since waking up, Nika allowed herself to relax—until something caught her eye.

She froze mid-scroll.

Her brows furrowed as she leaned closer to the screen, rereading the line slowly.

"Tomorrow marks the 30th anniversary of Rogue Sun's retirement."

Nika blinked.

Wait… what?

Her fingers hovered over the screen as her brain stalled, trying to process the sentence she'd just read.

Rogue Sun is In DC

That didn't make sense.

Rogue Sun was from Image Comics. He had no place here.

Without hesitation, she jumped to the search bar and typed furiously.

Rogue Sun.

The results flooded the screen, and her eyes darted over them, drinking in every detail she could find.

Apparently, just like in the comics she remembered, there had been multiple Rogue Suns throughout history. Different wielders, different error the mantle had been passed down from one generation to the next.

The most recent Rogue Sun had been active until 30 years ago, when he officially retired.

Nika sat back, gripping the phone a little tighter.

Why is Rogue Sun here?

This wasn't a coincidence.

Normally, she would've questioned if other characters from different universes had slipped into DC as well, but somehow… she knew.

Rogue Sun was the only one.

There was no logical reason for her to believe that, but the feeling tugged at the edges of her mind like an itch she couldn't scratch.

Another sensation crept in—something deeper. It wasn't clear, like a word at the tip of her tongue, just out of reach.

Her instincts told her something was important here, but no matter how hard she focused, the answer danced just beyond her grasp but she also had another feeling that it doesn't matter if she never figure out the second hunch.

She let out a long breath, forcing the thought aside.

It doesn't matter right now.

There were too many things she didn't know yet. Trying to piece everything together without more information would just drive her in circles.

I'll figure this out later.

Nika placed the phone down on the bed and crossed her arms, her mind drifting toward the next step.

Flatline's backstory.

For now, it was the simplest path forward.

She knew what would happen. If she followed Flatline's story the way it originally played out, she'd eventually leave this house.

She didn't plan on sticking around long anyway.

Her parents might seem like decent people on the surface, but there was a distance between them that Nika couldn't ignore.

Even Mila her sister, the one who tried to be the "normal" one couldn't completely hide the way she looked at her sometimes.

It wasn't obvious, but Nika noticed.

They thought she was weird.

The way she talked about death, the art that lined her walls, the sketches she left lying around—they unnerved her family.

It didn't matter that Nika herself didn't fully understand why she was drawn to those things. It wasn't just an interest. It was almost… instinctive.

Her powers were dormant, but they had always been there.

And when the day finally came—when she killed those assassins to protect her family—they cut her off completely.

No hesitation. No second chances.

It didn't matter that she saved their lives.

Protecting your family isn't enough?

The bitterness gnawed at her, but she swallowed it down.

She thought back to her brother.

He was a mess growing up. Drugs, fights—he spiraled, over and over.

Even when he killed someone in a drug-induced haze and ended up in prison, they never turned their backs on him.

They waited. They held on, hoping he would turn his life around.

And he did.

Eventually, he crawled out of the hole he'd dug, and their parents were there for him every step of the way.

But Nika?

One mistake. One moment of survival, and she was cast aside.

She clenched her jaw, exhaling slowly.

Fine.

If that was the way things were, she wasn't going to waste time begging for their approval.

I'll follow the backstory. When the time comes, I'll leave.