Zarn closed his eyes, counted to five in three different languages, and made the kind of command decision that would either save his career or end it spectacularly.
"All ships," he said, his voice carrying resigned determination, "weapons hot. Target the Kryptonians."
"Sir?" Karras sounded genuinely shocked. "With respect, Cap, that's three Kryptonians. Firing on them is like trying to fight the sun with a water pistol. A really expensive water pistol that we're probably going to regret using."
"I'm aware, Lieutenant," Zarn said. "But we have our orders. And those orders don't include 'politely ask the invulnerable aliens if we can please have the princess back.' Fire on my mark."
The three ships' weapons systems powered up with a whine that sounded suspiciously like mechanical anxiety.
"Three... two... one—"
Zarn never got to say "mark."
Because that's when something *extremely large* and *extremely fast* slammed into the side of his ship with the force of a tactical nuke delivered by someone who was very personally offended by their existence.
The impact sent the vessel spinning wildly, alarms screaming, crew members grabbing for handholds as artificial gravity did its best impression of a carnival ride designed by someone who hated people.
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" Zarn roared, hauling himself back to his feet.
"Contact!" the sensor officer shrieked. "Multiple contacts! Four more enhanced signatures just appeared out of nowhere and—oh god, they're hitting us! They're actually physically hitting our ships like we're cosmic piñatas!"
Through the viewport, Zarn caught a glimpse of blonde hair and a red cape as something that looked like a teenage girl in Kryptonian colors literally *punched* his ship hard enough to send it careening off course.
"That's Supergirl!" Karras yelped, his voice hitting frequencies that would have made dogs in three counties bark. "Superman's cousin! She just punched us! An actual teenage girl just punched our military-grade starship, and it WORKED!"
The second ship reported in, its captain's voice tight with barely controlled panic. "We've been hit! Something in black just put a fist-shaped dent in our hull! Repeat: FIST-SHAPED DENT!"
The third ship wasn't even bothering with proper military protocol anymore. "Giant glowing green woman just appeared outside our viewport and she's got a HAMMER—"
The comm cut off as something that sounded suspiciously like a Green Lantern construct impacted their hull with extreme prejudice.
"Evasive maneuvers!" Zarn ordered, which at this point was less a tactical command and more a desperate prayer to physics.
But three ships designed for stealth operations don't handle being used as punching bags by superpowered teenagers very well. Within seconds, all three vessels were spiraling toward the ground in what could charitably be called "controlled crashes" and more accurately described as "falling with style while everything's on fire."
They hit the ground in a field about half a mile from Mount Justice with a series of impacts that would probably show up on seismographs and definitely wake up anyone within a ten-mile radius who'd been trying to sleep.
Zarn dragged himself out of his command chair, checked that all his limbs were still attached (they were, barely), and activated the emergency deployment protocol.
"All troops, prepare for ground engagement!" he barked into his comm. "And somebody find out exactly how many superpowered beings just turned our military operation into a humiliating disaster!"
The ship's rear hatch blew open with a hiss of hydraulics, and Zarn led his squad of elite Tamaranean soldiers into the night air, weapons charged and ready.
They'd barely made it three steps before reality decided to get significantly worse.
A yellow blur streaked past, moving so fast it was basically an insult to the concept of velocity. In the space between heartbeats, half his troops found themselves disarmed, their weapons vanishing into thin air.
"What—" Zarn started.
The blur stopped, resolving into a grinning teenager in a yellow and red uniform with lightning bolts across his chest. He was holding approximately fifteen military-grade energy weapons, stacked in his arms like groceries.
"Hi!" Kid Flash said with the kind of cheerful enthusiasm that suggested he was having the time of his life. "Welcome to Earth! Quick question: did you guys file proper invasion paperwork? Because I checked with customs, and you're definitely not on the approved visitors list."
Before anyone could respond, water erupted from the ground like the ocean had gotten personally offended by their presence. It formed itself into a humanoid shape—tall, regal, with tattoos glowing blue against dark skin.
"Stand down," Aqualad said, his voice carrying the calm authority of someone who'd been trained by Atlantean royalty. "You are outnumbered, outmatched, and frankly making what could be a diplomatic situation significantly worse for yourselves."
Zarn's tactical brain was screaming at him that this had gone from "bad" to "career-ending disaster" to "the kind of story people tell to explain why you should never take military contracts from dysfunctional royal families."
But he was a professional. And professionals didn't back down just because they were facing impossible odds.
He raised his weapon, preparing to give the order to engage—
And froze.
Because floating down from the sky, her long auburn hair flowing around her like she was underwater, her green eyes blazing with starfire, came someone he'd spent the last month hunting across three star systems.
Princess Koriand'r of Tamaran.
Except she wasn't dressed like a princess anymore. The royal garments were gone, replaced by a sleek purple and silver uniform that caught the moonlight. She landed with effortless grace, her bare feet touching the grass without making a sound.
And she was smiling.
Not the polite, diplomatic smile of royalty. The fierce, defiant smile of someone who'd found something worth fighting for and had no intention of giving it up.
"Hello, Captain Zarn," she said, her voice carrying that distinctive Tamaranean accent but with something new underneath it—confidence, certainty, the tone of someone who'd found her place in the universe. "I have been... expecting you."
Behind her, the rest of Young Justice assembled with the casual competence of teenagers who'd been doing this superhero thing long enough to make it look easy. Robin perched on a nearby rock, staff in hand. Superboy cracked his knuckles with a sound like small explosions. Miss Martian floated with her hands glowing green. Zatanna twirled her magic around her fingers.
And standing just behind Koriand'r, like a protective shadow: Hadrian Kent, his emerald eyes blazing, his cape billowing dramatically in the wind, his expression making it very clear that if anyone wanted to get to the princess, they were going to have to go through him first.
Zarn looked at his surrounded, disarmed troops. He looked at the smoldering wrecks of his ships. He looked at the literal army of superpowered teenagers who had just dismantled his entire operation in under thirty seconds.
And he made another command decision.
He powered down his weapon.
"Princess Koriand'r," he said formally, because at this point maintaining military protocol was all he had left. "I am under orders from Governor Komand'r to bring you back to the Citadel Empire to face charges of terrorism, theft, and treason."
"I know," Koriand'r said gently. "And I am sorry for the trouble my sister has caused you. But I am not going back. This is my home now. These are my friends. And if Komand'r wants me..."
Her eyes blazed brighter, starfire crackling around her hands.
"She is welcome to come and get me herself."
—
The field was silent in the way battlefields get right before everything goes sideways—the kind of quiet that made your ears ring and your heartbeat sound like a drum solo performed by someone who'd had way too much caffeine.
Captain Zarn stood with his hands raised in what was technically surrender but looked more like "I'm being very polite about the fact that you just destroyed three military vessels with teenagers," surrounded by disarmed Tamaranean soldiers who were all doing mental calculations about whether their pension plans covered "humiliated by superpowered children."
Koriand'r floated a few feet off the ground, her auburn hair catching moonlight like she was in a shampoo commercial directed by someone who understood dramatic lighting. Behind her, Young Justice had arranged themselves in what could generously be called a defensive formation and more accurately described as "we're trying to look intimidating but several of us are genuinely nervous."
Hadrian Kent stood closest to Kori, his emerald eyes glowing faintly in the darkness, cape billowing with the kind of dramatic flair that came standard with Kryptonian genetics. His posture screamed *try me* in three different languages.
Neville flanked his brother's left, arms crossed over his chest, looking like someone had carved a very patient and very dangerous wall out of Kryptonian muscle and given it opinions about proper tactical positioning.
Kid Flash vibrated in place, still holding an armful of confiscated weapons like the world's most hyperactive coat check attendant. "So," he said with the kind of nervous energy that suggested he was about two seconds from either running five hundred miles or making a terrible joke, "this is going well, right? Everyone's being very calm and diplomatic? Nobody's about to do anything we'll all regret?"
"Define 'regret,'" Robin muttered from his perch, staff balanced across his shoulders with practiced casual menace.
"Whelmed," Kid Flash replied. "I'm feeling very whelmed right now. Not overwhelmed, not underwhelmed, just... whelmed. Is that a thing? Can we make that a thing?"
"West," Aqualad said with the patience of someone who'd been dealing with speedster nonsense since approximately forever, "perhaps focus on the armed alien soldiers rather than expanding our vocabulary?"
Zarn cleared his throat, which was the military equivalent of tapping a microphone to see if anyone was listening. "Princess Koriand'r," he began, using that formal tone that officers employed when they were about to say something that was technically true but everyone was going to hate anyway, "I understand this situation is... complicated. But my orders are clear. Governor Komand'r has issued a lawful Imperial decree demanding your return to face charges."
"Lawful," Kori repeated, her accent making the word sound like music wrapped in anger. "Tell me, Captain—was it lawful when my sister sold our world to invaders? When she traded billions of lives for power? When she offered me as tribute to beings who wished to enslave me?"
Her eyes blazed brighter, starfire crackling around her clenched fists. "On Tamaran, we have a saying: 'The law that protects monsters becomes monstrous itself.'"
Zarn's expression flickered—just for a moment, something that might have been sympathy or guilt or the uncomfortable realization that he was on the wrong side of a moral argument and had known it for a while but orders were orders and pension plans didn't pay themselves.
"I am a soldier," he said finally, his gravelly voice carrying the weight of too many years following orders he didn't necessarily agree with. "I follow orders. Even when those orders are... complicated."
"That's what every soldier says," Superboy called out from somewhere behind Kori, his voice carrying that particular brand of judgment that came from being a clone who'd been created specifically to follow orders and had decided that was a terrible idea. "Right up until they decide to stop."
"Connor," Hadrian said quietly, a warning in his tone.
"What? I'm just saying—following bad orders doesn't make you less responsible for them. It just makes you complicit. That's not philosophy, that's just math."
Zarn's jaw tightened. "Complicit," he repeated. "Easy words from someone who's never had to choose between duty and conscience while trying to keep soldiers alive."
Before anyone could respond to that—because it was the kind of statement that required either a very long philosophical debate or immediate violence—Miss Martian suddenly stiffened, her green eyes going wide with alarm.
"Wait," she said, her voice tight. "Something's wrong. I'm sensing... there's another mind. Close. Very close. But it's shielded, and the signature is—"
She didn't finish.
Because that's when reality split open with a sound like thunder being personally offended by physics, and Governor Komand'r of Tamaran made her entrance with the kind of dramatic flair that made Hadrian's cape-billowing look like amateur hour.
Her ship uncloaked directly above them, a sleek predatory thing that had been hiding in the sensor shadow of Zarn's vessels like a shark following pilot fish. It was beautiful in the way that poisonous flowers were beautiful—elegant, deadly, and absolutely designed to make you regret every life choice that had led to this moment.
Komand'r descended slowly, violet energy crackling around her like living lightning, her dark hair flowing around her shoulders as if gravity was just another rule she'd chosen to ignore. She wore armor that somehow managed to be both regal and threatening, crimson and black plates that caught the moonlight and turned it into something cold and sharp.
When she smiled, it was the kind of smile that made sensible people check their life insurance policies.
"Sister," she said, her melodic voice carrying across the field like a song about betrayal written by someone who understood both music theory and psychological warfare. "How delightful to see you again. Though I must say, I'm disappointed. When I heard you'd found new friends, I expected something more... impressive."
Her violet eyes swept across Young Justice with the kind of casual dismissal that suggested she was evaluating them the way someone might evaluate particularly uninspiring houseplants.
"Children," she continued, landing with effortless grace that made even her arrival look choreographed. "You've surrounded yourself with children. How very... you."
"Komand'r," Kori said, and her voice had gone cold in a way that made everyone suddenly very aware that these were two warrior princesses from a culture that had been fighting wars since before Earth had invented the wheel. "You should not have come here."
"Should not?" Komand'r laughed, and the sound was like silver bells being used as weapons. "Oh, little star. I go wherever I please. And right now, it pleases me to retrieve what belongs to the Empire."
"She doesn't belong to anyone," Hadrian said, stepping forward with that particular brand of Kryptonian confidence that came from knowing you were effectively invulnerable. "And she's not going anywhere."
Komand'r's attention shifted to him, and her smile widened.
"Ah," she purred. "And you must be the Kryptonian. The one my sister has been hiding behind. Tell me, boy—do you truly understand what you're protecting? Or has she simply enchanted you with her innocent act?"
"I understand she's under our protection," Hadrian replied evenly. "And I understand you're currently threatening a teammate. Which means you're threatening all of us."
"All of you," Komand'r repeated, her voice dripping with amusement. "How touching. And how... inadequate."
She raised one hand, and violet energy exploded outward in a wave that sent everyone scrambling for cover.
The battle began before anyone could say "diplomatic incident."
Komand'r moved like violence choreographed by someone who understood both beauty and brutality, starfire blazing from her hands in concentrated beams that carved furrows in the earth and sent Young Justice diving for cover.
"Scatter!" Robin shouted, already in motion. "She's stronger than Kori—don't engage directly unless—"
He was cut off as a blast of violet energy vaporized the rock he'd been standing on approximately half a second earlier.
"Run?" Komand'r called out sweetly. "Oh, please do. I enjoy the chase."
Kori launched herself at her sister with a cry of fury and heartbreak mixed together, starfire meeting starfire in an explosion of green and violet that lit up the night sky like competing fireworks displays.
They collided mid-air with enough force to crack the sound barrier, trading blows that would have pulverized buildings, screaming at each other in rapid Tamaranean that even the translators couldn't keep up with.
Hadrian moved to help, but Komand'r caught him with a blast of energy that sent him skidding backward across the field, his boots tearing furrows in the grass.
"Stay out of this, Kryptonian," Komand'r said, her voice carrying easily over the chaos. "This is between sisters. A family matter. Though if you insist on interfering..."
She gestured, and suddenly three more ships decloaked overhead, their weapons ports glowing ominously.
"I brought backup."
The ships opened fire, energy beams raining down like an extremely aggressive meteor shower. Young Justice scattered, Kid Flash grabbing civilians (aka Zarn's very confused soldiers) and moving them to safety at speeds that violated several laws of physics.
Superboy caught a beam on his shoulder, grunted, and immediately launched himself at the nearest ship with a roar that probably scared wildlife in three counties.
Miss Martian went full density and flew straight through another ship's hull, her fists glowing as she systematically dismantled their weapons systems from the inside.
Aqualad raised his hands and water erupted from underground, forming into massive constructs that wrapped around the third ship and dragged it down.
Robin was doing what Robin did best—being everywhere at once, smoke pellets and explosives turning the battlefield into a confusion of shadows and controlled chaos.
And through it all, Koriand'r and Komand'r fought with the kind of intensity that only came from siblings who'd loved each other once and now couldn't remember why they'd stopped.
"You betrayed us!" Kori screamed, her starbolts slamming into her sister's shields. "You sold our world!"
"I saved what could be saved!" Komand'r shot back, her violet energy overwhelming Kori's defenses and sending her spinning. "You were weak! Idealistic! You would have let them all die rather than make hard choices!"
"Hard choices?" Kori's voice cracked. "You call genocide a hard choice?"
They came together again in a clash of energy and fury, and for a moment the sky lit up bright enough to read by.
Hadrian tried to intervene again, but one of Komand'r's ships opened fire on him—not energy weapons this time, but something else. Something that made his skin prickle with warning and his Kryptonian instincts scream danger.
Red sun radiation.
He dropped out of the sky like someone had cut his strings, hitting the ground hard enough to crater it.
"Hadrian!" Kara screamed from somewhere, her voice high with alarm.
Neville was there immediately, putting himself between his brother and the ship, his expression murderous. "Bad move," he growled, his pale green eyes blazing.
He ripped a boulder out of the earth—and by ripped I mean he just grabbed it like it was made of styrofoam—and threw it with enough force that when it hit the ship, the vessel crumpled like aluminum foil.
The ship crashed, smoking and sparking, its crew staggering out only to be immediately surrounded by very annoyed teenagers with superpowers.
But Komand'r wasn't paying attention to her downed ships or her scattered forces. She was focused entirely on her sister, on the fight that had been brewing for months, on finishing what had started when she'd chosen power over family.
"You could have stood with me," Komand'r said, her voice carrying genuine pain underneath the anger. "We could have ruled together. But you chose sentiment over strength. Emotion over empire."
"I chose people over power," Kori replied, breathing hard, her hair wild around her face. "I chose life over conquest. I chose—"
"Weakness," Komand'r finished. "And now you'll pay for that choice."
She raised both hands, violet energy building to levels that made the air itself taste like ozone and imminent death.
And then—
A voice cut across the battlefield, young and uncertain but carrying an authority that made everyone freeze.
"Stop."
Everyone turned.
Standing at the edge of the field, bathed in moonlight and looking like they'd walked out of a fantasy novel by way of a very expensive tech convention, were six teenagers in armor that definitely hadn't existed five minutes ago.
Alex Luthor in his golden-blue scarab armor, its surfaces rippling with alien technology and attitude.
Lena Luthor in silver plate and moonlight hair, Joan of Arc if she'd had a fashion consultant and several advanced degrees.
Raj in gleaming gold and silver, looking like iron man by way of the Mahabharata, his bow already drawn with an arrow of pure light.
Ethan in the golden pelt of the Nemean Lion, looking like the world's most intimidating football player had been blessed by Zeus personally.
Sarah with fox ears and a tail, her armor orange and silver, looking like someone's anime protagonist fever dream come to life.
And Maya, crowned in leaves and starlight, her wooden mask giving her the appearance of a nature goddess who'd decided mortal politics needed her input.
They looked ridiculous.
They looked magnificent.
They looked like they had absolutely no idea what they were doing but were committed to doing it anyway.
Komand'r stared at them for a long moment.
Then she started laughing.
"Oh," she said, wiping tears from her eyes. "Oh, this is perfect. This is absolutely perfect. My sister didn't just find children to hide behind—she found children playing dress-up in artifacts they don't understand!"
Her laughter was genuine, delighted, the kind you get when reality exceeds your wildest comedic expectations.
"Tell me," she called out to the new arrivals, "which one of you dies first?"
That's when Lena raised her sword, and when she spoke, her voice carried an authority that made even Komand'r pause.
"None of us," she said simply. "Not today."
And the air around her seemed to shine, just a little bit brighter.
Komand'r's smile faltered.
Just for a moment.
But it was enough.
---
The battlefield had transformed from "vaguely organized superhero defense" to "cosmic blender set to 'chaos' and someone broke the off switch" in approximately thirty seconds.
Komand'r's ships were raining fire from above, their energy weapons carving glowing orange lines across the night sky. Young Justice was scattered across the field doing what they did best—which was making impossible situations look slightly less impossible through superior application of teenage determination and questionable tactical decisions.
And now six teenagers in legendary artifacts had just entered the fray like they'd been personally invited to this disaster by destiny itself and had decided to RSVP with extreme violence.
"Okay," Maya said, her wooden mask unable to hide the way her voice had climbed about three octaves toward panic territory, "so we're doing this. We're actually doing this. Fighting an alien invasion with magical weapons we got from a billionaire's basement. This is happening. This is my life now."
"Less talking," Alex snapped, his scarab armor flickering with tactical displays that were scrolling information faster than human eyes should be able to process, "more not dying. The ships are targeting—"
He didn't get to finish because one of Komand'r's vessels opened fire directly at their position, energy beams turning the ground where they'd been standing into a smoking crater.
Sarah's enhanced fox senses saved them—she'd heard the charge-up and grabbed Maya and Lena, yanking them aside with strength that absolutely shouldn't have existed in someone who weighed maybe one-twenty soaking wet.
"Holy—" Maya started.
"MOVE!" Sarah shouted, her tail puffing out to approximately twice its normal size, which would have been hilarious under different circumstances.
They scattered as another volley hit, and suddenly they were in it—*really* in it—the kind of combat situation where "I don't know what I'm doing" stops being funny and starts being "how are we not dead yet."
Raj's armor was screaming information at him—targeting solutions, wind vectors, probability matrices—and his brain was screaming back "I'M A COLLEGE STUDENT NOT A SPACE MARINE" but his hands were drawing the bow anyway because apparently muscle memory worked even when your conscious mind was having a full-scale breakdown.
The arrow released with a sound like crystallized thunder.
It flew true—of course it flew true, the armor wouldn't let it miss—and punched through the ship's shields like they were made of particularly aggressive tissue paper. The vessel's engine exploded in a cascade of sparks and regret.
"I HIT IT!" Raj screamed, his voice cracking with disbelief. "I ACTUALLY HIT IT! THE ARMOR WASN'T LYING ABOUT THE AIMING THING!"
"RAJ!" Alex yelled, his helmet's HUD tracking three more incoming targets. "LESS CELEBRATING, MORE SHOOTING!"
"RIGHT! YES! SHOOTING! I CAN DO SHOOTING!"
Another arrow, another engine. This was either going to be the best day of his life or the last day of his life, and honestly the jury was still very much out.
Ethan, meanwhile, had discovered something wonderful and terrible about the Nemean Lion's pelt: it made him *absurdly* strong. Like "pick up cars and throw them" strong. Like "that physics class where they said there were limits to human strength was apparently optional" strong.
He'd grabbed a chunk of one of the crashed ships—just reached down and *grabbed it* like it was a slightly heavy grocery bag—and hurled it at another vessel with a roar that probably terrified every animal within a five-mile radius.
The makeshift projectile hit with satisfying violence, and the ship careened sideways, smoke pouring from its engines.
"OKAY!" Ethan shouted, his voice coming out deeper and more resonant through the helmet. "OKAY THAT WAS COOL! THAT WAS REALLY COOL! I MIGHT BE GETTING INTO THIS!"
"DON'T GET TOO INTO IT!" Sarah yelled back, currently using her newfound agility to dodge energy blasts with movements that looked less like combat and more like the world's deadliest parkour routine. "WE'RE STILL ABSOLUTELY GOING TO DIE!"
"NOT HELPFUL, SARAH!"
"BEING REALISTIC!"
Lena was fighting differently—not with raw power but with *precision*. Joan's armor wasn't about flashy displays or overwhelming force. It was about being exactly where you needed to be, doing exactly what needed to be done, with the kind of unshakeable conviction that made reality bend to accommodate you.
She parried an energy blast with her sword—and the beam just *stopped*, absorbed into the blade and redirected into the ground. She moved through the chaos like she was dancing to music only she could hear, every step purposeful, every action economical.
It was terrifying to watch. Beautiful, but terrifying.
Maya, for her part, had discovered that being bonded to the Pith of Gaia came with some unexpected perks. Like, for instance, the ability to convince plants to grow *very fast* and be *very angry* about alien invaders.
Vines erupted from the earth at her command, thick as tree trunks and moving with predatory intent. They wrapped around one of the ships like a massive hand, pulling it down despite its engines screaming in protest.
"GOOD VINES!" Maya shouted, because apparently she'd decided that if she was going to be a nature goddess, she was going to be an *encouraging* nature goddess. "VERY GOOD VINES! YOU'RE DOING AMAZING, SWEETIES!"
"ARE YOU SERIOUSLY PRAISING THE MURDER PLANTS?" Raj screamed, loosing another arrow.
"POSITIVE REINFORCEMENT IS IMPORTANT!"
Alex was the coordinator, his scarab feeding him tactical data and letting him see the entire battlefield like a chess board. He called out targets, directed fire, warned people about incoming attacks—except the scarab was also judging *all* of his decisions and providing unhelpful commentary.
*"Suboptimal positioning,"* it chimed in his head. *"Suggest immediate relocation."*
"I'M A LITTLE BUSY!" Alex snapped out loud, then winced because that made him look like he was talking to himself, which was definitely not helping his "I'm totally in control" image.
*"Note: pilot is experiencing stress-induced emotional volatility. Recommend deep breathing exercises."*
"I WILL DEEP BREATHE WHEN WE'RE NOT BEING SHOT AT BY ALIEN DEATH MACHINES!"
But they were holding. Against all odds, six completely untrained teenagers with borrowed legendary weapons were somehow, impossibly, holding their own.
Which is when Komand'r decided she'd had enough.
She disengaged from Koriand'r with a blast of violet energy that sent her sister spinning, turned toward the new arrivals, and smiled with the kind of predatory interest usually reserved for discovering particularly interesting prey.
"Enough," she said, her voice cutting through the chaos like a knife through extremely loud butter. "Let's see what these artifacts can *really* do."
She raised both hands, and the air itself seemed to *compress* around her, violet energy building to levels that made reality look nervous.
The blast she released wasn't aimed at the kids.
It was aimed at the ground beneath them.
The earth exploded, chunks of rock and dirt launching skyward, the shockwave hitting like a physical wall. The kids scattered—or tried to—but the blast had created a crater, and suddenly they were sliding, falling into—
Sarah's fox instincts saved her—she twisted mid-fall, grabbed Maya and Lena, used her tail for balance (which shouldn't have worked but apparently did), and somehow landed on her feet.
Raj's armor deployed flight stabilizers he didn't know he had, catching him mid-plummet.
Ethan just hit the ground and created an Ethan-shaped dent because invulnerability had some perks.
Alex's scarab had already had him airborne before the blast hit because the scarab, unlike Alex, did not believe in "let's see what happens."
But they were separated now, scattered, and Komand'r was descending toward them with the leisurely pace of someone who knew the fight was already over.
"Artifacts," she said conversationally, landing at the crater's edge. "Powerful, certainly. Ancient. Legendary. But do you children understand what makes a weapon *truly* dangerous?"
Her violet eyes swept across them.
"It's not power. It's *will*. And will comes from experience. From pain. From sacrifice."
She raised one hand, energy crackling.
"You're children playing with tools you don't understand. Let me teach you—"
"HEY!"
Everyone froze.
Because standing at the crater's edge, his uniform torn and dirty but his emerald eyes blazing with fury that could probably be seen from orbit, was Hadrian Kent. And he looked *pissed*.
"You," he said, his voice carrying all the weight of Kryptonian heritage and personal offense, "just made this really personal."
Komand'r's smile widened. "Oh? And what will you do, little Kryptonian? You're weakened. My ships hit you with red sun radiation. You're practically human right now."
"Yeah," Hadrian said, cracking his knuckles in a way that suggested he'd been watching too many action movies or possibly his own father. "But the thing about being Kryptonian?"
He grinned, and it was the kind of grin that suggested someone was about to learn a very painful lesson about underestimating teenagers with superpowers and bad attitudes.
"We get stronger when we're angry."
He blurred forward, moving fast enough that even Komand'r looked surprised, and hit her with a right hook that sent her skidding backward across the field.
The fight was back on.
And judging by Hadrian's expression, it was about to get significantly more violent.
"FINALLY!" Wally shouted from somewhere. "I've been WAITING for the dramatic second wind moment! THIS IS PEAK SUPERHERO STORYTELLING!"
"CAN WE MAYBE FOCUS?" Robin yelled back.
"I'M MULTITASKING!"
And then, because the universe apparently hadn't decided they'd suffered enough, more ships began dropping out of cloak.
A lot more ships.
"Oh come on," Maya groaned. "How many ships does one evil alien princess NEED?"
As if in answer, the sky lit up with dozens of new contacts, all bearing Citadel insignias, all with weapons hot.
The real invasion had just begun.
---
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