Shadowflame

Lex clapped his hands once, the sound echoing through the lab like a villainous exclamation mark. "Good work, everyone. If this succeeds—and by if, I mean when—I expect each of you to remember who made it all possible." He turned on his heel, his voice dropping to a dramatic murmur. "Me."

As Lex strutted out, his coat billowing like he was starring in a superhero movie but playing the villain, Eve scrambled to keep up. She looked like she had about a thousand questions, all of which boiled down to "Why am I still working here?"

Once the door hissed shut behind him, the remaining scientists exchanged looks, the kind of looks that screamed, This is fine, we're definitely not accessories to something catastrophic.

Dr. Spence broke the silence, adjusting her glasses for what had to be the fiftieth time. "Let's run another diagnostic. I don't trust that the Kryptonite failsafe will be enough if something goes wrong."

Dr. Desmond huffed, clearly offended. "Nothing will go wrong. These clones are the pinnacle of genetic engineering. They're stronger, faster, and smarter than their originals. Lex Luthor's vision—"

"Is going to get us all killed," Fairchild interrupted, folding her arms. "You don't clone Kryptonians and expect everything to go according to plan. They're not robots. They're not even fully Kryptonian."

Desmond rolled his eyes. "And you're the moral compass of the group, I suppose?"

Fairchild shot him a look that could have melted steel. "Someone has to be."

Before the argument could escalate, the pod containing the teenage boy—let's call him Project Kr, because that was less terrifying than "Angry Mini-Superman"—let out a soft beep. His fingers twitched, and for a moment, the air felt like it was holding its breath.

Fairchild's voice came out in a whisper. "He's waking up."

Desmond nearly tripped over his clipboard in his rush to the console. "That's impossible. He's not supposed to regain consciousness for another two weeks."

The boy's eyes fluttered open, glowing with an intensity that screamed trouble incoming. His gaze darted around the lab, taking in the sterile walls, the blinding lights, and the wide-eyed scientists. And then he did what any sensible clone with super strength and no context would do: he punched the pod window, shattering it like it was made of candy glass.

"Contain him!" Spence barked, already slamming her hand on the emergency alarm. Red lights flashed, and a klaxon blared loud enough to make everyone's ears ring. It was like the world's worst fire drill, except the fire was a Kryptonian clone.

Project Kr stepped out of the pod, water dripping from his hospital-style scrubs, and glared at the group like they'd just ruined his nap. His fists clenched, and his jaw tightened—a clear sign that someone was about to get very hurt.

"Stay calm," Fairchild said, holding up her hands like she was trying to soothe a wild animal. "You're safe. No one here wants to hurt you."

Kr tilted his head, his expression darkening. "Funny," he said, his voice rough and quiet but carrying all the menace of a thunderstorm. "That's exactly what someone who wants to hurt me would say."

Desmond took a step forward, clipboard raised like it was some kind of shield. "You need to follow our instructions. You're not ready to—"

Kr didn't let him finish. With a speed that defied logic, he was across the room, lifting Desmond off the ground by the collar. "Where am I?" he growled. "And why do I feel like I've been trapped in a bad sci-fi movie?"

"Good question," Galatea muttered from her pod. Because, of course, she was waking up now too. Her voice was lighter, breezier, like she wasn't even remotely fazed by the chaos unfolding around her. "Mind keeping it down, though? Some of us are trying to sleep."

Her pod hissed open, and she stepped out with the kind of grace that suggested she already knew she was the most dangerous person in the room. Where Kr radiated raw power and teenage angst, Galatea exuded confidence. She stretched like someone who hadn't used her muscles in a while, smirking as she took in the scene.

"Let me guess," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "We're the lab rats, and you're the scientists who think you're in control."

Spence, to her credit, didn't flinch. "You're prototypes. We created you to—"

"To be weapons," Galatea interrupted, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. We know the drill. Spare me the speech, Four-Eyes."

Fairchild stepped forward, her voice steady despite the chaos. "You're more than that. You can be more than that. Please, just listen—"

Kr turned to her, his grip on Desmond tightening. "Why should we trust you?"

Fairchild hesitated, and for a second, it looked like she didn't have an answer. Then she said, "Because I don't trust them either."

The room went silent, except for the faint hum of machinery and the not-so-faint sound of Desmond wheezing.

Galatea raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Well, well. Maybe this won't be so boring after all."

—

When the Zeta Beam flash fizzled out, I found myself standing in the middle of Mount Justice, a place that looked like it was designed by someone who was allergic to mess—high-tech, sleek, and way too pristine. Honestly, it was so spotless I could probably eat off the floor, though Wally would totally do that if he was desperate enough for a snack.

The noise hit me first. It was like walking into the middle of a Quidditch match if every single player had gotten a little too much sugar and maybe a few too many Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

Right by the kitchen, Hermione was holding a stack of books taller than she was—seriously, how does she even manage that?—while Fred and George grinned like they'd just blown something up, which, let's face it, was probably true. There was also smoke, but it was probably from their latest experiment. Or, you know, the start of an accidental fire.

Meanwhile, Ron and Neville were arguing over some Bertie Bott's Beans, like it was the most serious debate in the universe, while Ginny just leaned against the counter, looking like she was deciding whether to take a nap or give them both a good talking-to.

Luna was hanging upside down on the back of a couch, wearing a pair of goggles that made her look like she was auditioning for a role in a steampunk movie. Meanwhile, Dean and Seamus were locked in an intense thumb war that was clearly way more dramatic than it had any right to be.

On the other side of the room, Daphne, Susan, and Tracey were huddled over a shopping bag from Happy Harbor, pulling out outfits and squealing like they'd just found a room full of free chocolate.

Lee Jordan was lounging in a recliner, microphone in hand, narrating the chaos like he was calling a Quidditch match.

And in the middle of all this controlled insanity stood Deedee—aka Death—my betrothed, dressed like she'd just walked out of a Goth Pinterest board. She was holding a tray of cookies like she was about to start a tea party for the undead.

"Harry!" she called out, spotting me instantly. She set the tray down and practically glided over to me, her black dress swishing dramatically behind her like she was the villain in some cool action movie. "You're late. I was starting to think I'd have to introduce myself to everyone without you."

"Wouldn't want to miss that," I said, doing my best not to stare too much. Deedee has this uncanny talent of making me feel like I'm both the luckiest guy in the room and a complete idiot at the same time.

Donna, the self-proclaimed Amazonian troublemaker, nudged me with her elbow. "You didn't tell me Death was part of the team. Is that even allowed?"

"It's a long story," I muttered, but honestly, it was a very long story.

"Everything about you is a long story," Dick Grayson—aka Robin—said, smirking like he knew all my secrets. He probably did.

Before I could say anything back, Fred and George popped up, each grabbing one of my arms like they were about to take me on some kind of insane rollercoaster ride.

"Harry, old chap!" Fred greeted me with an overly dramatic salute.

"You've arrived just in time!" George added, grinning.

"For what?" I asked, already regretting my words.

"To witness our latest invention, of course!" Fred said, pulling out what looked like a tiny, multicolored marble that, I swear, could've been a fire hazard in the making.

"Behold, the Weasley Wizarding Whirligig!" George announced with enough flair to make a Broadway actor jealous.

Donna snorted. "You do realize that name's ridiculous, right?"

"We take great pride in our ridiculousness," Fred said seriously.

Before they could do... whatever it was they were planning, Hermione stormed over, her books still in hand, looking like she was about to lecture them on every safety violation they'd ever committed.

"Don't you dare," she warned, glaring at Fred and George.

"Relax, Hermione," George said, waving a hand like she was overreacting. "It's perfectly safe."

"That's what you said about the Exploding Cauldron Cakes," she replied, eyes narrowing.

"Details," Fred said, shrugging.

Deedee, ever the diplomat (in her own creepy way), stepped between Fred and George, blocking their path with a smile that could probably turn a basilisk into a fluffy bunny.

"Now, now," she said, her voice sweet but firmly not asking for any trouble. "Play nice, boys. Harry's just arrived, and I'm sure he'd prefer not to spend his first day dodging magical projectiles."

Fred and George exchanged a look, sighed in perfect unison, and muttered, "Yes, ma'am."

Deedee turned to me, her smile wide and oh-so-satisfied. "See? I can be diplomatic."

"Terrifying, but diplomatic," I agreed, trying not to laugh.

The rest of the introductions were as smooth as you'd expect when you toss a group of wizards, superheroes, and one very goth incarnation of Death into a room together. There were awkward handshakes, snarky comments, and at least one small magical explosion (thank you, Fred and George).

Eventually, I found myself standing in front of the group, everyone's eyes on me, waiting for me to give some kind of inspirational speech.

"So," I said, trying my best to sound like I knew what I was doing. "We're a team. A weird, chaotic, probably slightly dysfunctional team, but a team nonetheless."

Ginny, with that mischievous grin of hers, said, "Wow, Harry. Inspirational speech of the year."

"I'm getting there!" I shot back. "Look, the point is we all have skills. Magic, superpowers, questionable fashion choices—"

"Hey!" Daphne and Mareena said in perfect harmony.

"—and if we can figure out how to work together without killing each other, we might actually have a shot at this whole 'saving the world' thing."

There was a beat of silence, then Wally grinned like he'd just found a stash of unlimited pizza. "I'm in. Mostly because I wanna see how this flaming sword thing works."

One by one, everyone nodded or mumbled their agreement, and I realized that, somehow, it was actually going to work.

Deedee leaned in close, her lips brushing my ear as she whispered, "Not bad, Hotshot. You might just pull this off."

"Thanks," I whispered back, trying not to look as terrified as I felt. "No pressure, right?"

And just like that, the real adventure began.

—

Desmond, still dangling from Kr's grip like a marionette, fumbled around in his lab coat for the remote control—because of course, he'd be carrying some sort of "fail-safe" in case things went sideways. His fingers were trembling so much it was a miracle he even found the button. With a sinister grin (the kind that only a guy with way too many secret plans and no actual control could pull off), he slammed his finger down on the big red button.

"You think you're in charge?" Desmond wheezed, his voice thick with a mix of panic and triumph. "Think again."

Fairchild, who had been watching the entire exchange with what could only be described as "mild concern," suddenly snapped her head up. "What did you do?"

Desmond let out a wheezy, sickly laugh as the unmistakable beep-beep-beep of something very bad activating filled the room. "Kryptonite implants. You think we'd just build something we can't control?"

Galatea, mid-stretch as if she were rehearsing for a Broadway role, paused, a smirk slipping from her face. "Kryptonite, huh? That's cute. Let me guess... this is the part where we all dramatically crumple to the floor in agony?"

For a long, tense second, the whole room held its breath. Was this it? The moment when Kr and Galatea, the two most annoyingly indestructible beings in the room, finally got their comeuppance?

But then... nothing happened.

Kr raised an eyebrow, his grip loosening just enough that Desmond could gasp for air. "Huh. That's funny. I don't feel anything."

Galatea, who had been lazily inspecting her nails, cocked her head and tapped the side of her neck like she was checking for a mosquito bite. "Yeah, me neither. Are you sure you pressed the right button, genius?"

Desmond's eyes bugged out. No way. He hit the button again—this time with more dramatic flair, like he was trying to activate a self-destruct sequence in some James Bond movie. The beeping turned into a weird, terrifying bzzt sound, followed by the unmistakable smell of burning electronics.

Sparks flew from the back of Kr's neck. He blinked at it for a second, then casually peeled off a small, charred device that had apparently been working overtime to try and kill him.

"Oh, look," Kr said, holding the burnt device up in front of Desmond's face. "Your fancy little failsafe just... well, let's just say it gave up on you."

Galatea, ever the team player, plucked a similar device off her neck and casually tossed it across the room. "You guys should really spend more on tech. This looks like something you could pick up at a budget store. What is this, discount Kryptonite?"

Desmond's face drained of color faster than a bowl of cereal in the hands of a hungry teenager.

Kr dropped him unceremoniously onto the cold, hard floor with a grunt. Desmond scrambled back like a cockroach that'd just realized it was being hunted. His hands clutched the remote like it was his last hope. Spoiler alert: it wasn't.

"That was your big plan?" Kr asked, clearly unimpressed. "You thought you could just implant some weakness in us and we wouldn't notice? Pathetic."

Fairchild, who was probably starting to question her life choices at this point, stepped forward. "You need to leave. Now. Lex Luthor will send more than these guys after you."

Kr crossed his arms, his glare softening ever so slightly. "Why are you helping us?"

"Because," Fairchild said, her voice surprisingly steady, "you deserve better than this. You're not weapons. You're not lab rats. You're people, and I can help you figure out what that means... but only if we leave now."

Galatea, who had been watching the exchange like it was some soap opera, suddenly clapped her hands. "Alright, I'm in. Let's get out of here before this place gives me a headache. But there's just one little problem…" She raised an eyebrow at Kr. "Flyboy here isn't exactly making the grade."

Kr shot her a glare so intense it might've cracked a mirror. "I can fly."

"Really?" Galatea's smirk could've melted steel. "Go ahead. Hover. Just a little."

Kr, clearly in denial, crouched down and tried to push off the ground. And... nothing. Nada. Zilch. He gave it another try. A little more force. A little more determination. And… still nothing but the sound of his feet thumping against the floor in complete and utter failure.

Galatea burst out laughing. "Oh, this is rich. The Kryptonian who can't even hover? What are you, defective?"

"I'm not defective!" Kr growled, his fists tightening at his sides.

Fairchild stepped in before the situation could go full melodrama. "Alright, enough. We'll figure it out later. Galatea, can you carry him?"

Galatea sighed dramatically, then rolled her eyes like this was the worst thing she'd been asked to do all week (and, given her usual extracurricular activities, that was probably saying something). "Fine. But you owe me, Superboy."

She grabbed Kr by the arm, hoisting him up with ease like he weighed nothing more than a bag of groceries. "And me?" Fairchild asked, eyeing the reinforced steel door like it might suddenly turn into a giant monster.

Galatea grinned. "Hop on, Four-Eyes. The more, the merrier."

Fairchild hesitated—like, really hesitated—before climbing onto Galatea's back. "This is insane," she muttered under her breath as alarms blared throughout the building.

Galatea, without missing a beat, launched herself into the air, breaking through the ceiling like it was made of wet cardboard. The trio soared out into the night, leaving Desmond (and the very annoyed security system) behind them.

As they zoomed away, Galatea couldn't resist a little jab. "Hey, Kr, next time you decide to wake up and start punching things, maybe figure out the whole 'flight' thing first, huh?"

Kr groaned. "I hate you."

"You're welcome!" Galatea replied, laughing as she shot a sharp turn into the clouds. "Now, where to, Four-Eyes?"

Fairchild, holding on for dear life, clung to her back and muttered, "Anywhere but here."

—

Lex Luthor and Eve Tessmacher were walking toward their sleek black car parked just outside the Cadmus facility—Lex, looking like he owned the world, Eve, pretending to care about the "tour" they'd just taken. (Let's be real, she was there mostly to make mental notes about everything that was a total disaster. Classic Eve.)

The hum of security systems and high-tech equipment faded into the background as they neared the car, and for a second, it was all calm and quiet. Too calm, actually, like the kind of quiet you get right before everything goes completely off the rails.

Then—BAM!

A sound that could only be described as "terrible" shook the ground beneath their feet. It was the kind of noise that made you instantly question if your insurance would cover whatever horrible event was about to unfold. The next sound wasn't much better: the unmistakable screech of steel being torn apart, followed by the faintest whoosh as something—someone, maybe?—was rocketing into the sky.

Both of them snapped their heads toward the source of the chaos. And there it was: the roof of the Cadmus building exploding into a cloud of debris as if it were made of cardboard.

And flying out of the wreckage? Galatea, looking like she was auditioning for a superhero movie, with Kr clutched under one arm and Fairchild hanging onto her back for dear life.

"Well, this wasn't in the brochure," Lex muttered, adjusting his glasses as alarms started blaring in the distance. "Get in the car. Now."

Eve, still in shock, managed to sputter, "Did they just—did they just fly away?"

"Yep," Lex replied dryly, already walking toward the car. "And I bet they didn't even leave a tip."

He got in the driver's side with that trademark confidence of his, as if he hadn't just had one of his most expensive creations bolt on him. Eve scrambled into the passenger seat, because when Lex Luthor says "get in the car," you get in the car. No questions asked.

The engine roared to life, and Lex sped off like a man who had just discovered his entire plan had gone up in smoke. As they tore down the road, the security guards at Cadmus were probably running around like headless chickens, trying to figure out what the heck had just happened.

It wasn't long before Lex's car screeched to a halt in front of two very sweaty, very panicked scientists. Desmond, looking like he might collapse any second, and Spence, practically attached to Desmond's hip, both ran up to the car.

"Mr. Luthor, sir, they're gone!" Desmond gasped, clutching his chest. "Kr, Galatea—gone rogue!"

Lex didn't even flinch. "What do you mean 'gone'? Where did they go? And why does this sound like your fault?"

Desmond, practically shaking now, waved his smoldering remote control device like it was some sort of apology. "The fail-safes didn't work! The Artificial Kryptonite, the implants—they were supposed to stop them, but they didn't even—"

Eve, trying her best not to roll her eyes, shot back, "Wait a second, we spent millions on this and you couldn't even make sure the 'turn them off' button worked?"

Desmond shot her a pleading look, his face a mess of confusion and fear. "We never expected—"

Lex interrupted, his voice smooth as silk but just as deadly. "Expected what, Desmond? The assets I invested in exploding out of the facility, leaving me in a state of total disaster? I should've expected that from you."

Desmond's hands were shaking now. "It's Dr. Fairchild! She's been—she's been talking to them! Manipulating them, making them think they can just leave! She freed them!"

Lex's eyes narrowed. Great. Not only had his prized creations flown the coop, but now he was dealing with someone else in his lab who thought they could play God.

"What kind of manipulation are we talking about here?" Lex asked, his voice like a shark circling prey.

Desmond, his mouth moving but no words coming out for a second, finally blurted, "She gave them ideas, sir. Ideas that didn't come from us. She's been… helping them escape, making them think they can just walk away like they have a choice in the matter!"

Spence, still looking like she was about to faint, added, "They didn't just leave. Galatea picked up Kr like he was a pillow and flew them both out of here. And Fairchild was with them!"

Lex rubbed his temples, already plotting his next move. This was turning into an even bigger mess than he'd anticipated. "And you couldn't stop them? What happened to your security protocols?"

Desmond, as if just realizing his own incompetence, looked like he wanted to vanish into thin air. "We... we didn't account for them."

How could these idiots have not accounted for them? Lex thought. Who does that?

"You didn't account for them?" Lex's voice was low now, more dangerous than ever. "You had one job. One. And now you've lost the very assets I spent millions creating. Congratulations."

Desmond's voice was barely above a whisper. "Please, Mr. Luthor—"

"Enough," Lex snapped. "Get out of the way."

Eve, still looking mildly entertained by the whole disaster, leaned forward. "And Dr. Fairchild? What's your plan for her?"

Lex's lip curled into a smile, and it wasn't pretty. "Oh, she'll learn not to meddle in my business. But first, I'm going to make sure they regret walking away from me."

The car shot off into the night, its tires leaving burning rubber on the asphalt as Lex Luthor made a mental note: Step one: Hunt down Galatea and Kr. Step two: Show Dr. Fairchild why you never mess with Lex Luthor.

—

Just as I was getting comfortable in the chaos—honestly, who knew chaos could feel so normal?—my comms buzzed. It was Martian Manhunter. Of course. The guy never calls me to check in about how my day's going. Nope. He always has some "urgent" task that only I can handle.

"Harry, we've detected something flying near Metropolis. Our sensors can't quite identify it, but it's moving fast. Can you investigate?"

Yeah, of course. Why not me? I mean, I was just in the middle of a highly productive social session with some of the most powerful beings on Earth, trying not to explode from Fred and George's latest "invention." But hey, flying mystery figure near Metropolis? Sounds like my kind of problem.

I shot a glance at Deedee, who was standing nearby, looking like she was about to either bake cookies or destroy the universe—hard to tell with her.

"Duty calls," I grumbled, pulling the red hood of my armor over my head. Flames started flickering to life around me, the heat almost making the room feel too small.

Deedee raised an eyebrow. "You mean you're actually going to do this? You're not just going to wave your magic wand and hope for the best?"

"If only," I grinned, trying to lighten the mood. "But Martian Manhunter's got this whole 'hero' thing on lockdown. I'm just here for the flying and occasional saving the day."

Deedee snorted. "You're ridiculous. Don't get hurt, okay? I'd have to kick your ass."

"Noted," I said, already stepping back. "But no promises."

Before I could take off, Supergirl and Starfire zipped into the room like they were on some kind of race. Kara looked like she'd been running on pure Kryptonian caffeine—her energy practically buzzing off her. Starfire, on the other hand, looked like she was ready to throw down at any moment, her hair practically glowing with cosmic energy.

"We're with you," Supergirl said, cracking her knuckles with that signature let's do this vibe.

"You sure about that?" I raised an eyebrow. "I was kinda hoping for a nap."

Starfire's grin could probably power the entire planet. "Quiet afternoons do not exist when we're involved, Harry."

"Well, guess we're about to find out, huh?" I said with a shrug, and without another word, I spread my wings of fire. The flames roared to life, and I had a very strong feeling I was about to incinerate the room if I wasn't careful. Golden mask slid into place, and I shot into the air. Supergirl and Starfire weren't far behind, their powers lighting up the sky like it was the Fourth of July.

Flying felt like second nature now. The wind whipping through my hair, the fire around me hot enough to fry the entire city if I let it get out of hand, and the city of Metropolis beneath me looking way too calm for what we were about to face.

"This definitely isn't a normal fly-by," Supergirl's voice crackled over the comms, her tone sharp. "I've never seen anything moving that fast before. Any guesses, Harry?"

"Could be a rogue hero or some new weirdo showing up," I replied, squinting at the strange energy signal Martian Manhunter had pinged. "But I'm not about to assume it's friendly. Not with my luck."

Starfire's voice came through with confidence. "We're ready, Harry. Just lead the way."

I nodded, the flames around me intensifying as we neared the outskirts of Metropolis. There it was—the mysterious figure. Too fast to make out, but the heat in the air? Yeah, that wasn't normal. The kind of energy crackling off it wasn't exactly "friendly neighborhood superhero" level.

"Approaching the target," I said, keeping my voice steady despite the nerves creeping in. "Let's be cautious, guys. This could be anything."

We were almost there, and the figure was becoming clearer. All I could think was, Please don't be another guy with more powers than sense. Please don't be another guy with more powers than sense.

And that, my friends, was when the adventure was about to get really interesting.

—

You know that moment when you're flying through the air, minding your own business, and suddenly, you find yourself face-to-face with what looks like Supergirl's edgier, curvier twin sister? Yeah, me neither—until tonight.

The first thing I noticed was the heat. The air felt like it was auditioning to be a sauna, and my hair decided to do its best impersonation of a Tesla coil. Then came the glow—a bright, crackling energy that could've powered the entire state of New York. And in the center of all that chaos, floating like she owned the skyline, was her.

Let me paint you a picture: imagine Supergirl, but add some serious drama. This girl—let's call her Supergirl 2.0—had short, stylish hair that screamed "I wake up like this." Her white bodysuit looked like it had been designed by someone who thought Supergirl's outfit was way too modest. Gold belt, golden boots, and enough strategically placed cutouts to make a fashion designer cry with envy. She looked like she'd just stepped out of a superhero fashion show, and the theme was dangerously chic.

And she wasn't alone.

Slung over her shoulder like a sack of Kryptonian potatoes was a guy. Not just any guy, though. He had all the moody energy of a teenage Superman, complete with a black suit and a scowl so intense it probably counted as a superpower. And clinging to her back like she'd just hitched a ride on the world's edgiest Uber was a redheaded woman in a lab coat roughly three sizes too big for her. Honestly, the whole scene looked like a bizarre family reunion gone wrong.

When we landed, Supergirl 2.0 casually set her passengers down, like carrying two people through the air was no big deal. She turned to us with a smirk that could rival Bruce Wayne's best "I know something you don't" look.

"We could've been more subtle," she said, crossing her arms. "But hey, what's life without a little drama?"

Supergirl, the actual Supergirl, took a step forward, clearly trying to process the situation without losing her cool. "Who are you? And what are you doing here?"

The girl tossed her hair back like she'd been waiting her whole life for this question. "Name's Galatea," she said, her tone oozing confidence. "And these two?" She pointed at the moody guy and the lab coat lady. "That's Kr, and that's Dr. Caitlin Fairchild. We're here because Cadmus Labs decided it'd be fun to play God."

At this point, I was pretty sure my brain had short-circuited. "Wait, Cadmus? As in the evil lab that's run by that bald-headed megalomaniac who thinks cloning superheroes is a fun weekend project?"

"Bingo," Galatea said, snapping her fingers. "Kr and I? We're the results. Clones. Of Superman and Supergirl." She gestured at Supergirl and then, for some reason, said. "Well, mostly those two."

Supergirl blinked. "Wait. Clones?"

"Yep," Galatea said, popping the p like this was just another Tuesday. "Super strength, heat vision, crippling existential questions about our purpose in life—the works."

"And the lab coat?" I asked, pointing at Dr. Fairchild, who was currently adjusting her glasses and looking like she'd rather be anywhere else.

"Oh, that's Caitlin," Galatea said breezily. "She's the one who helped us break out of that nightmare. She's cool. A little awkward, but cool."

Dr. Fairchild cleared her throat. "Cadmus didn't exactly give them a choice about their, uh, existence. I just... helped them escape."

"Right," I said, nodding slowly. "And flying across the city like a couple of neon signs wasn't going to attract attention at all."

Galatea shrugged. "Sometimes you gotta make a scene."

"Okay," Supergirl cut in, looking like she was hanging on by a thread. "What do you want from us?"

"Honestly?" Galatea said. "A place to crash would be nice. Maybe a little help figuring out what Cadmus is planning next, because trust me, they're not done."

There was a long, awkward pause as everyone processed this. I glanced at Supergirl and Starfire, who both looked like they were trying to decide whether to fight, flee, or adopt these two.

Finally, I broke the silence. "Well, Mount Justice does have a guest room."

Galatea grinned. "Perfect. But, uh, fair warning: Kr snores."

"Do not," Kr muttered, crossing his arms.

"Do too," Galatea shot back, and I suddenly got the feeling that these two were going to fit in just fine.

As we took off toward Mount Justice, I couldn't help but wonder how this was going to play out. New clones, shady labs, and a redheaded scientist with a thing for oversized coats? Yep. Just another day in the life of Shadowflame.

---

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