Shadowflame

The Tower of Fate was exactly what you'd expect from a sorcer's hangout: impossibly tall, filled with glowing symbols that probably meant "Don't Touch," and giving off a vibe that screamed "You're not important enough to be here." If Hogwarts had a grumpy older cousin, this would be it.

I stood there, trying not to look like a kid in a candy shop—or, you know, a kid in a tower full of mystical doom artifacts. Across from me, Doctor Fate was doing his best impersonation of a magical Terminator. The guy didn't blink, didn't fidget, didn't even breathe, as far as I could tell. Just stood there, helmet gleaming, cape billowing in some invisible wind. Very dramatic.

"So," I said, because the silence was getting awkward, "you wanted to talk about my upgrade?"

Fate tilted his golden bucket head in my direction. That's the thing about him—he doesn't have eyes, but you know he's staring into your soul. It's unsettling. "You absorbed the Elder Wand," he intoned, like he was narrating the trailer for a horror movie. "An act of such magnitude cannot be taken lightly. Tell me, Shadowflame, what do you feel?"

I shrugged, letting a little flame dance across my fingertips. "Honestly? Like I just unlocked cheat codes for magic. The Wand didn't just power me up; it's like it handed me a lifetime subscription to Magical Netflix. Only instead of bingeing shows, I'm bingeing centuries of spellcasting knowledge. Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and a few other people who probably weren't as polite about their magical ethics—it's all in here."

Fate didn't move. That's his thing—no reaction, no feedback, just ominous silence. It's great for keeping you on edge, but terrible if you're trying to make conversation.

"Okay," I said, holding up my hands like I was surrendering. "Serious answer: it's... a lot. The power's one thing—like, whoa—but the knowledge? That's a whole other beast. It's like someone dumped the entire Hogwarts library into my brain while yelling, 'Figure it out!' Useful? Sure. Overwhelming? Absolutely."

"Does the Wand's essence speak to you?" Fate asked, stepping closer. His voice echoed, like he was broadcasting from a cosmic PA system. "Does it attempt to guide your actions?"

"Guide me? No." I frowned, twirling a spark of fire between my fingers. "It's not like that. It's more... passive. Like an archive. I can tap into it when I need to, but it's not whispering in my ear or trying to get me to, I don't know, overthrow the Ministry of Magic. It's just there."

He studied me—or at least, I think he did. Hard to tell with the whole helmet thing. "You are confident in your control. But such power is not to be underestimated. It has corrupted others before you."

"Yeah, yeah, power corrupts, blah blah blah," I said, rolling my eyes. "Look, I get it. This isn't my first rodeo with scary magical artifacts. I know the risks, and I'm not about to go full Dark Wizard. I mean, I turned a rock into a sandwich yesterday. That's the level I'm operating at—snack-related transfiguration."

Fate didn't laugh. Not that I was expecting him to, but still. A little acknowledgment of my excellent sense of humor wouldn't have killed him.

"The Elder Wand's legacy is not so easily dismissed," he said, raising a hand. Glowing runes appeared in the air around him, spinning like a mystical screensaver. "You may have absorbed its magic, but its history remains. Wield this power wisely, or it will destroy you."

"Got it," I said, nodding solemnly. "No reckless spellcasting, no magical smackdowns with gods, and definitely no turning sandwiches back into rocks. I'll be careful."

"This is no jest, Shadowflame," he said, his tone sharp enough to cut through steel. "The path you now walk is fraught with peril. Every choice you make will ripple across the balance of magic itself."

I wanted to crack a joke, but something in his voice stopped me. Instead, I nodded. "I know. And I'll be careful. Promise."

He lowered his hand, the runes fading into nothingness. For a second, I thought he might actually say something encouraging, but nope. He just stood there, radiating ominous wisdom.

As I turned to leave, I glanced down at my hands, watching flames flicker across my fingertips. The Elder Wand might be gone, but its magic? That was here to stay. And yeah, it was a lot. A lot of power, a lot of responsibility, and a lot of chances to seriously mess things up.

"Great," I muttered, heading for the exit. "No pressure or anything."

—

I landed with a soft thud on the Watchtower, trying to ignore the "I'm basically walking on space" thing. I mean, sure, Doctor Fate had given me a lot to think about with his usual cryptic warnings about power and responsibility, but honestly? Space? Space was just weird. The gravity didn't feel right, and you had to be careful not to slam into the walls, which were mostly glass. So, yeah, let's just say I wasn't in the mood for an astronomy lesson.

After my weekend magical boot camp with Fate (and definitely not getting a proper break), I was ready for something easy—maybe a snack, a nap, or even just chilling out with a good book. But of course, life had other plans.

I was greeted by a giant, gold and red blur as soon as I walked through the door. Wonder Woman, a.k.a. my mom, a.k.a. the Amazonian who could snap me like a twig if she wanted to, gave me her usual, very serious, "I'm totally a superhero but I'll still make you clean your room" look.

"Shadowflame," she said, her voice as calm and collected as always. If she was surprised by the fact that I'd just teleported in, she didn't show it. Honestly, I think she's too used to the chaos in her life to care. "We need to talk."

"Great, what's next? A new evil overlord? Another alien invasion? Or maybe we're throwing a pizza party because that sounds awesome."

She raised an eyebrow. "You've been briefed about the new team, correct?"

I blinked. "New team? Um, no? Last I checked, I was still trying to figure out how to make sandwiches without turning them into bricks. Not exactly the recruitment process I thought I'd be involved in."

Wonder Woman crossed her arms, the golden lasso around her waist gleaming. "The Justice League has decided to form a new, younger team. And you're the leader."

My mouth opened, but nothing came out. I probably looked like a fish. A fish with fire powers.

"Wait, wait—hold up," I finally said, trying to regain my ability to speak coherently. "You mean to tell me you guys are giving me—me—leadership of a team? I'm Shadowflame. I set things on fire, make sandwiches disappear, and talk to the personification of Death like she's my personal therapist/girlfriend. I'm pretty sure I'm still working on basic spell etiquette, not leading a team."

Wonder Woman smiled—smiled—but it was the kind of smile that didn't make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. More like a "You can do this, but you're probably going to need some extra motivation" kind of smile. "You are more than ready. You've faced more than most, Shadowflame. The team will need your experience, your leadership, and your ability to see things from multiple perspectives. You know what it's like to be an outsider, to be different. You understand the struggles they will face."

My eyes narrowed as the weight of her words settled in. "The team" meant my friends. My Wizarding friends. The people who didn't even know they were about to get dragged into the whole superhero gig.

"Wait, wait, wait," I said, my brain catching up with my mouth now. "You're talking about people from my world, aren't you? You want me to recruit my friends? I've got a lot of people in my life, but—hold on—this sounds like an Academy situation, right? Am I going to have to teach them how to use magic, or will they need spandex?"

Wonder Woman's expression softened just slightly—if slightly meant "You've got this, but you'll probably be confused for at least a little while."

"Yes," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "This team will include people you know well. Your friends from the Wizarding World are being brought into this. The Justice League believes that having someone like you, who has seen the other side of the coin, will help guide them."

I blinked again. "So, you're telling me I get to babysit my friends? Like—lead them into superhero glory? What's next? Will we have team-building exercises? Do we get to fight a giant monster while singing kumbaya?"

Wonder Woman's smile remained, but this time it seemed a little more genuine. "You'll have support, Shadowflame. You won't be alone in this. And we will guide you as well."

I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. This was not what I expected to be doing today. I thought I'd be picking up coffee or trying to get used to being a walking, talking firestorm. But leading a team? My team? With people like Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the crew? This was going to be a disaster—or an absolute disaster.

"Okay," I said, dragging the words out, "but, like... what kind of team are we talking about? Because I'm all for saving the world, but I really don't want to have to explain everything to my friends. They're gonna be so confused."

Wonder Woman chuckled softly, and for the first time, I could see a glimmer of the fondness she had for me as her son—her actual son—filling her eyes. "We'll leave the introduction to you. They will be ready when you are."

And just like that, the weight of everything hit me. Leadership? A new team? People I cared about about to join my world of flying, magic, and spandex? That's a lot to process. But at the end of the day, someone had to do it, right?

I stood up straighter, trying to hide the nerves that were suddenly threatening to crash the party. "Alright, Wonder Woman. If you're trusting me with this, I'll make sure to not turn any of them into sandwiches. At least not without their consent."

Wonder Woman's laugh echoed through the Watchtower as I turned to leave, my heart already racing at the thought of how in the world I was going to tell my friends they were about to become superheroes. But hey, maybe we'd all get matching capes. Or at least some cool gadgets. I was hoping for at least one cool gadget.

No pressure, though. It's just the fate of an entire team of rookie superheroes in my hands. No biggie.

—

Shopping trips are supposed to be relaxing, right? A bunch of friends wandering through stores, sharing laughs, and pretending they need another pair of boots. But this wasn't just any group of friends. This was a gaggle of wizards, aliens, and one literal goddess of death attempting to do something normal in a very not-normal way.

Deedee, aka Death, walked ahead of the group, sipping iced coffee like she wasn't the literal end of the line for everyone in the mall. She was rocking the casual goth look—dark clothes, dark lipstick, a sense of cosmic inevitability—and somehow still managed to carry a cheesy "I ❤️ Happy Harbour" tote without ruining the vibe. "Shopping with mortals," she mused aloud. "It's been centuries. Surprisingly quaint. And by quaint, I mean loud and unnecessarily stressful."

Behind her, Kara adjusted her Harry-charmed glasses for the fifteenth time. The spell made her practically invisible—well, not invisible, but it erased all the "Hey, isn't that Supergirl?" vibes she usually gave off. Still, she looked like she was waiting for someone to yell, "ALIEN!" at her from across the food court.

"I don't know why I'm even here," Kara muttered. "I don't need clothes. I wear a suit made of indestructible Kryptonian fabric."

Ginny smirked. "Because you're part of the team now, and team bonding is important. Also, Hermione bribed you with snacks, didn't she?"

Kara huffed but didn't deny it.

Meanwhile, Kori—completely unbothered by anything—was twirling in front of a mirror, holding up a scarf that sparkled like it came from a disco ball. "Do you think Harry would like this?" she asked, her eyes wide with excitement. "It matches his fiery aura perfectly, don't you think?"

Ginny snorted. "Kori, Harry would think you're perfect in a burlap sack. But sure, let's say the scarf is a nice touch."

Hermione, who had been trying to read a map of the mall like it was the Marauder's Map, finally looked up. "Can we focus, please? We're supposed to be discussing the new team, not trying to impress Harry with accessories."

"Bonding is focusing," Luna said brightly, spinning in a flowy dress that looked like it belonged in a fairy tale. "Besides, good outfits build confidence. Confidence builds trust. Trust builds teams. See? It's all connected!"

Angelina nodded in agreement, holding up a leather jacket that looked like it could survive a nuclear explosion. "Luna's not wrong. Plus, if we're going to be saving the world, we might as well look good doing it."

Katie raised a boot dramatically. "Exactly. Nothing says 'serious superhero' like killer footwear. Although…" She looked at Deedee. "Do you even need a team uniform? Or do you just show up and make everything around you die?"

Deedee sipped her coffee, unbothered. "My aesthetic is timeless, thank you very much. But if you insist, I'll wear a T-shirt that says, I'm with doomed."

The group burst out laughing, even Kara cracking a small smile.

Daphne, however, wasn't convinced. "We're wizards," she pointed out, leaning against a display of scarves. "We're not superheroes. We don't fly around in capes fighting aliens."

"Well, technically we do fly around with magic," Susan said thoughtfully. "And we did take down Voldemort and a demon. That's kind of the same thing, isn't it?"

"It's not the same thing," Kara said firmly. "The Justice League doesn't just deal with Dark Lords—they deal with threats on a planetary scale. If you're not ready for that, this isn't just a bad idea. It's a death wish."

"Good thing we have Death on speed dial," Ginny quipped, gesturing to Deedee, who raised her coffee cup in a mock toast.

"Don't worry," Luna said serenely. "We'll be fine. With Harry leading us, we'll figure it all out. Plus, we have each other. That's all we really need."

"Also debatable," Daphne muttered, but her lips twitched like she was holding back a smile.

In that moment, as the group burst into another round of chatter and laughter, it was easy to forget the stakes. For now, they weren't wizards or aliens or the living embodiment of death. They were just friends, shopping for scarves, boots, and maybe a little courage to face whatever came next.

—

Lee Jordan had discovered a truth about life in Happy Harbour: no matter how much time you spent around superheroes, there was always something magical about an arcade. Maybe it was the flashing lights, the chorus of beeps and boops, or the pure, unfiltered chaos of people trying (and mostly failing) to beat rigged machines. Whatever it was, Lee loved it.

"Behold, the pinnacle of Muggle fun," he announced dramatically as the group of wizard-turned-heroes shuffled inside. "Welcome to the arcade. You're not ready."

Ron squinted at the sensory overload, looking like he'd just been hit with a Confundus Charm. "What is all this?"

Fred nudged him. "I think it's a Muggle dueling arena. Look at all the weird contraptions."

"Close, but no," Lee said, already jingling a handful of tokens. "This is where Muggles come to waste money and pretend they're good at games. Grab some tokens and prepare to lose to me at everything."

George had already wandered over to a claw machine, his nose practically pressed against the glass. "What's the goal here? Steal a stuffed animal?"

"Technically, yes," Lee said, "but it's less about winning and more about experiencing the crushing despair of almost winning. Go on. Give it a try."

George fed the machine a token, maneuvered the claw with expert precision, and managed to snag a plush octopus on the first try. He held it up triumphantly.

"Well, that's just beginner's luck," Lee muttered, already plotting his revenge at skee-ball.

Nearby, Sheamus and Dean had discovered the air hockey table. Dean looked casual, like he could win blindfolded, while Sheamus leaned over the table like he was dueling Voldemort.

"This is ridiculous," Sheamus grumbled as Dean scored on him for the third time in a row. "How is this even fun?"

"Maybe it's just not your game," Dean said, smirking.

"Or maybe you're cheating," Sheamus shot back, whacking the puck with enough force to send it flying off the table. It narrowly missed Ron, who was busy losing spectacularly at a shooting game.

"Oi!" Ron yelled. "Watch it, Sheamus! I'm already getting destroyed by these Muggle machines—I don't need to dodge pucks too!"

Neville, meanwhile, was staring at a racing simulator like it might bite him. "How does this even work?" he asked, poking one of the buttons.

"You sit, you steer, you lose," Lee said, pushing him toward the seat. "Don't overthink it. It's not like it's an enchanted chessboard. Just press the pedal and go."

Fred, who had joined George by the claw machines, called out, "So, what's the strategy for this new team of ours? Besides 'don't die horribly,' I mean."

"Harry's the leader," George added. "That's good, right? He's got experience with this sort of thing."

Ron abandoned the shooter game long enough to chime in. "Yeah, but leading the D.A. was one thing. Leading a team of wizards and superheroes? That's a whole other cauldron of Gillyweed."

Dean shrugged, casually blocking Sheamus's latest air hockey attempt. "We've faced worse than robots and aliens, haven't we? Voldemort, the Death Eaters, Snape on a bad day…"

"I think we'll manage," Neville said, gripping the racing wheel like his life depended on it.

"Exactly," Lee said, grinning as he leaned against the pinball machine. "And besides, you've got me. Every hero team needs a guy in the chair, right? That's me. The brains behind the operation."

Fred raised an eyebrow. "So, you're just going to sit back and boss us around?"

"Pretty much," Lee said, not even pretending to deny it. "It's a hard job, but someone's gotta do it. Now, who's ready to lose at skee-ball?"

Despite their doubts about the new team, the group couldn't resist the challenge. For now, saving the world could wait. First, they had to conquer the arcade—one claw machine, air hockey table, and skee-ball lane at a time.

—

So, there I was, standing in the Watchtower's rec room, surrounded by some of the most iconic superheroes in the universe, and all I could think was, Don't embarrass yourself. Because let's be real, when you have Wonder Woman's DNA, and you've got the combined powers of a wizard, an Amzonian, and a guy who has wings made of fire, expectations are kind of high.

"Charis, catch!" Donna Troy—aka my Amazonian aunt and official pain in the butt—yelled as she hurled a basketball at me with enough force to knock out a rhinoceros.

Luckily, I caught it because, you know, superhero reflexes. But that didn't mean it didn't sting. "Could we not throw things at my face with the strength of Hercules?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm trying to make friends here, not file a worker's comp claim."

Donna just grinned. "Oh, come on, nephew. You're part Amazonian. You can handle it. Besides, your face was hilarious."

For the record, it wasn't. My face is amazing, thank you very much. But Donna lives for chaos, so there was no use arguing. I dribbled the basketball a couple of times, mostly to look busy and avoid glaring at her.

From the couch, Dick Grayson—Robin himself—was doing that casual "I'm-cooler-than-you" thing, balancing a batarang on his finger. "You've got to admit, Harry, it's pretty funny watching her mess with you."

"You would think that," I replied, giving him my best unimpressed look. It didn't faze him. Dick's like a human golden retriever—always grinning, always amused.

"Leave him alone, Donna," Zatanna chimed in from her spot in the corner, lounging like a queen with her magician's hat tilted at an angle. She winked at me. "We wouldn't want to scare him off before the team even starts."

"As if you're not part of the problem," I shot back, smirking. Zatanna's a magician in more ways than one—her favorite trick? Flirting with me just to watch me squirm. I'd be annoyed if it weren't so... distracting.

Before I could come up with a witty retort, Miss Martian floated over, her green face lit up like a kid at a candy store. "Harry, are you excited to be leading the team? It's such a big responsibility!" Her voice was so earnest I almost felt guilty about my sarcastic default setting.

"Thrilled," I deadpanned. "No pressure or anything, right?"

"Don't worry," Mareena—the resident Atlantean princess—added with a grin, perching on the arm of the couch like she owned the place. "We'll follow your lead, Shadowflame. Or maybe I'll just call you Hotshot. That fits, doesn't it?"

I tried not to blush. Mareena and Zatanna could probably team up and start a business called Teasing Harry, LLC. "Hilarious," I muttered, mostly to myself.

Kaldur—Aqualad and the literal calm in this storm of chaos—cleared his throat. "Speaking of the team, do you have any ideas on how we'll integrate everyone's skills? This is a diverse group, to say the least."

Translation: We're a total mess, Harry. Good luck. "I was going to ask you about that," I said, grateful for the change in subject. "You've worked with most of these guys before. Any advice?"

"Trust is key," Kaldur said with the kind of serene wisdom that made you feel like you were failing at life. "Once we trust each other, everything else will follow."

"Trust is great and all," Wally—Kid Flash—cut in, zooming over to grab a handful of chips, "but let's talk strategy. Specifically, how we can use my amazing speed to carry this team to victory."

"Victory against what?" Batgirl—Barbara Gordon—asked, raising an eyebrow like she was already tired of his nonsense.

"Details," Wally said, waving her off. "The point is, I'm fast. Like, really fast. And Harry's... what's your deal again? Flaming wings? Amazonian vibes? Being ridiculously charming?"

"Debatable," Donna said, smirking.

Before I could respond, two more Atlanteans—Tula and Garth—walked in. Tula crossed her arms and gave me a look like she was sizing me up for a fight. "So, you're the famous Shadowflame. Kori and Mareena wouldn't stop talking about you."

"Oh, really?" I said, shooting Mareena a pointed look. She just smiled, all innocence.

"Don't worry, Shadowflame," Garth said, grinning. "We'll try not to make your life too difficult."

"Gee, thanks," I muttered.

By the time we all piled into the Zeta Beam transporter, the awkwardness had mostly faded. Somehow, amidst the teasing, the flirting, and the occasional "who's more dramatic" contest, I realized something important: this ridiculous, chaotic group might actually work. I mean, we're a mix of wizards, aliens, and vigilantes, but if there's one thing I've learned, it's that the weirdest teams often pull off the greatest miracles.

As the transporter lit up, Donna smirked at me one last time. "Ready, Charis? Time to show everyone why you're the chosen one."

I grinned back, finally feeling a little more like myself. "Keep talking, Donna. Just remember who's got the flaming wings."

And with that, we vanished in a flash of light, heading straight into whatever insanity waited for us. Because if my life has taught me anything, it's this: chaos isn't just inevitable. It's the fun part.

—

The lab had that vibe. You know the one—so clean it looked like they'd been scrubbing away any trace of humanity. The kind of place where you'd expect to find supervillains plotting world domination and probably wondering if the lighting was just a little too dramatic. Seriously, if anyone from OSHA wandered in, they'd turn around faster than a teenager caught raiding the fridge at 3 a.m. The whole setup screamed illegal science project in neon lights.

Lex Luthor strutted in like he owned the place. Which, knowing him, he probably did. He was wearing his usual "I'm rich, powerful, and definitely not up to any good" outfit—a sharp suit, a smug grin, and the kind of confidence that can only come from both having more money than God and a total lack of ethics. Honestly, if arrogance were a sport, Lex would have a gold medal.

Behind him was Eve Tessmacher, trying her best to keep up while balancing a tablet, a notepad, and a constant stream of Lex's one-liners. You could tell she was really thriving in this environment.

"Miss Tessmacher," Lex said, not even bothering to glance back. "Remind me to give a raise to whoever designed the lighting here. It really makes my brilliance pop, doesn't it?"

Eve didn't respond—she was too busy pretending she wasn't about to drop everything. Seriously, she could've used a third hand. But she smiled politely anyway, probably wondering if there was a job opening at a more morally upstanding company, like a laundromat or a bakery.

The science team showed up next, looking like a band of lab-coated rebels who weren't sure if they were here to make history or be part of a cautionary tale. First up: Dr. Amanda Spence, who had the kind of icy stare that could freeze a vat of toxic waste. Then there was Dr. Caitlin Fairchild, with hair that looked like it was on fire, and the lab coat that didn't quite fit (but hey, who had time for tailored uniforms in a place like this?). And last but not least, Dr. Mark Desmond, who looked like he was trying to pass off the clipboard as some kind of personality.

"Mr. Luthor," Spence said, looking over her glasses like she could see through Lex and maybe to his very soul. "We've made significant progress on Project Kr and Project Galatea. Both clones are responding well to the conditioning protocols."

Lex nodded like this was the moment he'd been waiting for—his moment. He stepped closer to the glowing pods in the center of the lab, where two very familiar-looking teens were floating like they'd just walked out of a Kryptonian spa day. In the first pod, there was a teenage boy who looked like he was trying to compete with Superman's whole "brooding hero" aesthetic. In the second pod, a teenage girl who, let's be honest, could have been Supergirl's twin sister—if Supergirl's sister were somehow way more curvy, with a whole blonde bombshell vibe going on. But hey, genetics, right?

"And by 'conditioning,'" Lex asked, his voice smooth like he was delivering the punchline to the world's worst joke, "you mean ensuring they're completely loyal to me? No pesky moral compass? No sudden urges to start fighting for truth, justice, and the Kryptonian way?"

Desmond cleared his throat, probably wishing he were anywhere else. "Of course, Mr. Luthor. They've been programmed to follow your commands without question. No more, no less."

"Good," Lex said, leaning in closer to the pods, like he was checking the fit of a new pair of shoes. "The last thing I need is some teenage rebellion. I'm not exactly ready to deal with Kryptonian mood swings right now. That's more of a summer project."

Fairchild, who looked like she was considering hurling her clipboard at Lex's smug face, took a deep breath and added, "Both clones have shown physical abilities that mirror their originals. Galatea, in particular, is ahead of schedule. Her cognitive development is progressing faster than anticipated. It's... impressive."

Lex smirked. "Human ingenuity with a dash of Kryptonian muscle. A perfect combination." He paused for dramatic effect, narrowing his eyes at Desmond. "But we all know what they say about weapons. They need failsafes. What's to stop them from turning on us?"

Spence adjusted her glasses (they must have been glued to her face at this point) and replied, "We've integrated synthetic Kryptonite into their systems. A simple command can activate it and neutralize them, if necessary."

Lex's grin was wide enough to make anyone with a conscience nervous. "Efficiency at its finest," he said. Then he looked over at Eve, who was probably praying for a vacation. "Tessmacher, make sure to note that Dr. Spence and Dr. Desmond get bonuses. As for you, Dr. Fairchild—try not to look so worried. It's bad for morale."

Fairchild clenched her fists so tight it was a miracle her clipboard didn't explode. "I'm just trying not to get fired," she muttered under her breath, but no one noticed—except for the reader, of course.

"And the timeline?" Lex asked, practically vibrating with excitement.

Desmond puffed out his chest like he was about to announce something revolutionary. "Three weeks. The clones will be ready for deployment in that time."

Lex nodded, practically drooling with anticipation. "Excellent. Superman and Supergirl won't know what hit them."

There was a dramatic pause, broken only by the low hum of the machinery keeping the clones alive. Inside their pods, the two teens drifted, oblivious to the world of evil genius that was waiting for them to wake up. And somewhere in the back of Caitlin Fairchild's mind, a nagging question kept echoing: Would these clones be their saviors... or their downfall?

But that, of course, was a question for another day.

---

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