LiBaG: Emergence 2.18 (Patreon)

Emergence 2.18Zeke woke to the metallic hum of the ship, the steady vibration beneath him syncing weirdly with the low-grade buzz in his skull. his eyes cracked open, immediately assaulted by the too-bright flicker of the overhead lights. yeah, no. closing them again didn’t help—the pulsing light stayed burned on the inside of his eyelids. the air felt wrong too, stale and chemical-heavy, like somebody decided febreze could fix recycled oxygen.

Somewhere outside, the wind howled, muffled but insistent. 

Desert storms. 

Awesome. just what he needed right now. The floor’s rhythm carried through his body as he tried to sit up, and every movement sent sharp, angry spikes of pain through his head. 

His legs? A different story—shaky like he hadn’t walked in months, though he definitely remembered walking yesterday… right? 

Or was it yesterday?

“Ugh… what the hell happened?” his voice came out cracked and scratchy, more sandpaper than sound. 

Perfect. 

Maybe next he could cough up a cactus and call it a day. He pressed his hands to the floor to steady himself, the cool metal grounding him enough to push off it. 

Blinking against the cool lights of the Bio-Ship’s interior, Zeke squinted toward the console. 

Everything felt… off.  His brain hit a wall of nothing, blank where it should’ve been full.

He stumbled to the console, leaning heavily on the edge while swiping at the controls. Static resolved into a system screen after a pause that felt way too long. “Team logs, September 4th,” he rasped..

The system chirped cheerfully in response, and Zeke flinched. “No data available.”

His fingers twitched against the console. “What?” he muttered, leaning closer. The words on the screen stayed stubbornly the same. He swiped again, slower this time, like maybe the system just needed a moment to catch up. 

Nope. “No data? Seriously?”The ship didn’t answer.

Slamming his fist into the edge of the console was probably not the best move, but he did it anyway. Focus. Deep breath in, shaky breath out. Okay, maybe just the logs got fried? Nothing to panic over yet. 

Except his gut said otherwise, the way it clenched tighter.

Pushing off the console, he paced the cabin in slow, uneven strides, trying to get his legs to cooperate. The floor vibrated beneath his feet, steady as a heartbeat, but it didn’t calm the uneasy thrumming in his chest. Flashes of memory slipped through, pieces floating up only to fizzle out like static. Briefing. Energy readings. Bialya. 

There was something else. 

A big deal, according to batman.

No, something else… his brain flickered as a memory of someone speaking and a face appearing in his vision. An ugly face…“Psimon says…”

“Psimon,” Zeke muttered under his breath, the name tasting sour on his tongue. 

The dude was nightmare fuel—a brain in a fishbowl that looked like it belonged on a freaky late-night cable ad. But he didn’t think the League sent them after him… so why—?

His pacing faltered as another flash hit, a clearer one this time. Troia again, her face doing that thing where she looked like she was two seconds away from filing a complaint about his existence. 

Zeke groaned again, dragging a hand through his hair. His fingers caught on a knot, but he didn’t care. Think, Zeke. What else?

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“The watchtower detected an immense power surge in the Bialyan desert,” Batman said, his voice that perfect gravelly monotone that somehow managed to be way more intimidating than shouting. 

The Team was crammed into the mount justice mission center, standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the massive holo-screen that lit up the room. The map of Bialya glowed with this unsettling red dot that pulsed like a heartbeat over what looked like… a whole lot of nothing. desert for miles.

“Spectral analysis revealed elements non-terrestrial in origin,” Batman continued, every word landing with precision.

Zeke shifted in the back of the group, suddenly super aware of how much taller everyone else was—sans Robin, of course—with the new addition of Troia. 

Hell, standing behind Kaldur and Conner both made him feel like a toddler trying to peek over a fence. His eyes flicked toward Troia for a second, only to catch her glance dart his way. She looked back at the screen immediately, her expression somehow even more disappointed than usual.

Cool. Noted. I’ll just go ahead and file that under “Teammate hates my guts for no reason, Volume Twelve.”

“Find out what happened at that site,” Batman said, his gaze sweeping over them. Zeke didn’t need to be a mind reader to feel the weight in the pause that followed, the way his stare lingered on each of them just long enough to drill it into their heads. “What landed there?”

Another flick of his remote and the screen switched to show a woman that looked like a queen from clothes to face. Her image filled the room, all regal and smug, like she knew half the team wanted to punch her and dared them to try. Zeke couldn’t help noticing how the sharp angles of her crown matched the glint in her eyes. 

She looked like she should’ve been holding court in some big, glittering palace, not ruling over desert storms and… whatever else Bialya had.

“Bialya is a rogue state ruled by Queen Bee,” Batman continued. “It is not a member of the league’s UN charter. All communications are subject to interception.”

Zeke caught Wally leaning in toward Kaldur, his mouth moving just fast enough to guarantee whatever he was saying was absolutely a bad idea. Probably something stupid about Queen Bee.

“Maintain radio silence at all times,” Batman finished.

Zeke stayed quiet. 

He always did when Batman was in the room but a question stuck with him, buzzing in the back of his mind like static. Queen Bee… alien bee lady, right? So what's she doing in the Middle East?

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Zeke shook off the memory, pressing his palm against the cool metal of the console to steady himself. His stomach twisted as the pieces fell into place. 

The mission hadn’t exactly been a cakewalk on paper, but now? With all his team missing for the past eight hours apparently?

It was a full-blown disaster.

“Focus, Zeke,” he muttered to himself, forcing his thoughts into order. 

Wherever the team was, he had to find them.

Outside lay answers. or more questions. 

Either way, he wasn’t finding anything standing around.

His gaze locked on the door of the bio-ship…or at least, where he knew it would be. Now how am I gonna get out?With a deep breath, he walked over to the smooth wall and pressed both his palms against the thing. I mean, it’s psychic like M’gann, right?

With a mental shrug, he thought really hard and said the words, “Open Sesame?” 

As soon as the last syllable left his lips, the wall opened up, steps forming down and the cool air of the Martian Bio-Ship was replaced with a wall of blistering heat and relentless wind. So, that does work.

Shaking his head, he stared outside through squinted eyes, one hand over his face as he equipped his goggles from his inventory.The desert stretched endlessly before him, and somewhere out there, his team was waiting. He just hoped he wasn’t already too late.

Stepping into the desert felt like getting dropkicked by the sun. 

Like, the kind of heat that didn’t just hit—it punched, full-on haymaker to the face. 

He stumbled out of the ship, one arm up like that’d do anything against the glare even through his goggles, and immediately regretted existing. The air was so hot it felt solid, like it had weight, and every breath dragged into his lungs slow and scratchy, burning on the way down.

Sand near-immediately clung to everything: his boots, his skin, his soul. 

It wasn’t just outside, either. 

No, it had somehow wormed its way into his socks in the twenty seconds since he’d stepped off the ramp. He tugged at his collar, already soaked, and squinted at the dunes stretching out in every direction, all of them shimmering like they were fake. Awesome. We’re in a funhouse, but it’s hell.

“Man, Bialya sucks,” he muttered, dragging a hand across his forehead. sweat dripped into his eyes, stinging like needles. “shoulda gone with the hoodie…”

the sand shifted under his boots with every step, making even walking a whole ordeal. every grain seemed determined to trip him up, drag him down, pull him back. faint tracks ahead barely gave him anything to follow—half-blurred by the wind, almost invisible in the glare—but it was all he had. slow and steady. no running. running would get him face-first in the sand, and no one was gonna haul his butt up if he passed out.

Half an hour in, his head felt heavy, pounding with every heartbeat. 

His tongue might as well have been made of sandpaper, and his shoulders drooped under the weight of the pack strapped to him. He swiped open his inventory with a flick of his fingers, the glow cutting through the sunlight in soft blue streaks. “Water, water…” his finger skimmed the options until he found the little icon, and he tapped it.

A chilled bottle materialized in his hand, condensation slicking his fingers. 

Zeke twisted it open and drank like his life depended on it—because, yeah, it kinda did. The water was ice-cold, a perfect contrast to the literal oven he was walking through. He splashed some over his face, too, letting it drip down and cool his neck. relief, but short-lived. one bottle down. How much more of this place do I gotta cross?

The tracks ahead veered, cutting toward a cluster of rocks stabbing out of the dunes. They looked like broken bones, sharp and out of place, and Zeke slowed automatically, his gut twisting. It wasn’t just the heat making him uncomfortable anymore.

And then he saw it.

A flash of green, just barely visible through the shimmering heat haze. Small, crumpled, half-buried in the sand. Zeke froze for half a second, squinting, before the shape clicked into focus. No way. No way.

“M'Gann!”

He broke into a run without thinking, the sand kicking up behind him like waves. his legs burned, his chest ached, but none of it mattered. She was there, near-motionless, the sunlight bouncing off her green skin. He slid to his knees, hands already digging into the sand, ignoring the way it scorched his palms even through his gloves. move. Dig. Faster.

Troia was right there, dropping next to him with that same focus she always had, and together they worked. the sand was heavier than it should’ve been, hotter than it had any right to be, but they didn’t stop. Zeke’s arms ached, every muscle screaming, but the tight knot in his chest screamed louder.

M'Gann stirred as they cleared the last layer of sand from her. her eyelids fluttered, her face pinched in pain, and he leaned closer, his breath catching. “M'Gann? hey, you with me?”

Her eyes cracked open, but they didn’t focus right away. She blinked slowly, like even that was an effort, her lips parting as she tried to speak. Her voice, when it finally came, was faint and shaky. “You…”

The younger boy nodded quickly, trying to keep his voice steady. “Yeah. It's me. We’re teammates. You remember anything else?”

Her hand drifted up to her temple, her face scrunching up like she was trying to pull pieces of a puzzle that didn’t fit. “flashes… just… pieces.” she winced, her fingers pressing harder against her head. “You feel familiar, but… I don't know your name.”

Zeke’s stomach dropped, but he didn’t let it show. Couldn’t let it show. 

She needed him steady, not freaking out. This is bad. Really bad. Fix it. He nodded again, forcing a small smile as he met her gaze.

“You’ll be okay,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Just stick with me. we’ll get this figured out. promise.”

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –​

She floated just beside him, keeping pace without a sound. 

Her green skin caught the harsh sunlight, faintly glowing like it was trying to fight back against the heat, but her expression stayed… off. Kind of distant, like she was watching something play out behind her eyes instead of in front of her. 

Zeke didn’t blame her. getting your brain scrambled probably did that to a person.

Her eyes kept flicking his way, though. not full-on staring, but enough to tell she was trying to figure him out, like he was a puzzle piece shoved into the wrong box. The silence stretched on, and Zeke could feel it sitting heavy between them.

He cleared his throat.

“So,” he started, trying to sound casual, even though the air felt like it was made of sandpaper and swallowing hurt. “Anything coming back yet?”

M’gann shook her head slowly, her gaze sliding to the horizon. 

The dunes shimmered under the glare, looking more like an oil spill than a desert. “Just flashes,” she said, her voice quiet, uncertain. “Faces, feelings, but nothing… clear. I know that I’m on Earth at least.” Her brows knit together, her lips pressing into a line. “But you feel familiar. like I should trust you.”

Zeke blinked at that, caught off guard for a second. “Hey, that’s something,” he said, throwing on a grin he didn’t totally feel. “And for the record, you can trust me. like, it’s not like I'd leave you out here or anything.” 

He swept his arm at the endless dunes. “See? Still here.”

Her lips twitched, just barely, like she wanted to smile but couldn’t quite make it happen. Instead, she looked down at the sand shifting under her feet, her fingers twitching like she wanted to grab onto something. “I just… I feel like I'm missing something. Something important.”

“You are,” Zeke said softly. He hesitated, then sighed. “But it’s not your fault. Whatever messed with your head? Yeah, that’s on them. Not you.”

Her eyes stayed on the sand, but her shoulders relaxed just a little.

He kept walking in silence, the only sound the crunch of sand under his boots. Zeke snuck a glance at her every few steps, his thoughts spinning out in a dozen directions at once. How much do I tell her? all of it? half? Does she even want to know? 

Leaving her in the dark felt wrong, but dumping everything on her? Yeah, that probably wouldn’t help much either.

“Okay, so,” he said finally, forcing his voice to stay even. “You’re M’gann M’orzz. Miss Martian. Telepath, shapeshifter, general telekine badass. You’re part of a team—our team—Young Jstice.” 

He risked a glance her way, trying to gauge her reaction. 

Nothing. 

Her face stayed blank. “We've been working together for a while now. Things’ve been… crazy. like, really crazy, usually a lot of explosions too.”

Her head tilted, just slightly, like she was filing that information away without really knowing what to do with it. “Young Justice?” she repeated, the words coming slow, uncertain. “That doesn’t… feel familiar.”

He shrugged, his attempt at giving “The Team” an actual name falling flat. 

We work out of Mount Justice, and it’s literally Robin, Kid Flash, and Superboy with Red Tornado as Den Mother, what else are we? “Hey, no pressure,” he said, throwing in another grin, this one a little weaker. “Memories don’t just snap back, right? It’ll take time.”

“Time…” she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper. Her steps slowed even more, her eyes drifting half-closed. “Or something else.”

Zeke frowned, slowing to match her pace. “Something else?”

Before he could ask what she meant, her eyes started to glow, faint but growing brighter. His breath hitched. “Uhh… Hello, Megan?” he said carefully, taking a small step back. “What are you doing?”

“I need to know,” she said, voice strained as she raised her hand. “I'm sorry, but… I have to.”

The pressure hit then—hard, sharp, like someone trying to kick down a locked door, only that locked door was his brain. The boy’s vision blurred, the dunes tilting sideways, and—

Forceful Breach rejected by Gamer’s Mind. 

Miss Martian Backdoor Access Status: Revoked.

The words blinked across his vision in glowing blue text. Before he could process it, Miss Martian stumbled backward with a choked cry, her hands flying to her head.

“M’gann!” Zeke lunged, grabbing her arm to steady her before she could hit the sand. “Hey, you okay?” His voice came fast and panicked, but he didn’t care.

She clutched her head, her fingers digging into her temples. Her face twisted, caught between pain and confusion. “What… what was that?”

Seriously gotta explain my powers to the guys, huh? Zeke grimaced, his grip on her arm tightening just a little. Yeah, probably should’ve done that months ago, but noooo, i had to be all ‘mysterious lone wolf.’ Great call, genius.

He really did need to, but the way everyone acted when he first joined made it... complicated.

How do you even explain that without sounding insane? Zeke dragged a hand through his hair, the sweat making it stick in all the wrong ways. “Okay, uh… long story short? My brain’s got… let’s call it a security system. No one gets in without permission. Period.”

M'Gann’s eyes widened, and guilt flickered across her face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I didn’t mean to hurt you… I thought—I thought it would help.”

“Hey, it’s fine,” he said, quick but softer this time, trying to head off whatever spiral was about to happen. “Just, uh, don’t try it again. No shortcuts, okay? We’ll figure this out the long way.”

She nodded, her shoulders drooping like he’d just taken the fight out of her. “I understand.”

Zeke managed a half-smile, hoping it looked reassuring even though his head still felt like it’d been dropkicked by a giant. “Cool. Now, come on. We’ve got teammates to find, and I'm betting they didn’t exactly leave us breadcrumbs.”

They started walking again, the heat pressing down like a smothering blanket. The silence wasn’t as bad now, but it still hung there, awkward and heavy. Every now and then, Zeke caught M'Gann glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, like she was still trying to figure out what to do with him. 

He ignored it. 

Mostly.

It also didn’t take long for him to be proven wrong. Hm… breadcrumbs.

The tracks ahead were a mess. haphazard, like whoever made them couldn’t decide if they were running, stomping, or just straight-up leaping. Probably a mix of all three. 

The further they went, the deeper the tracks got, turning into craters at a certain point, some big enough for him to climb out of if he wasn’t careful. Zeke didn’t have to think too hard about whose handiwork it was. Only one guy on the team makes holes like this.

“This is so not how I saw my day going,” he muttered, swiping another water bottle out of his inventory. Not that I remember how I saw my day going. The glowing blue interface barely lasted a second before fading, the bottle cool and slick in his hand. He drank half in one go, then tossed the rest to M'Gann. She caught it without a word, twisting the cap off like her mind was somewhere else entirely.

Half an hour later, the tracks dragged them toward a clearing. jagged rocks jutted out of the sand in uneven lines, like something massive had just smashed through here. 

And then there was the noise.

He froze mid-step, tilting his head. The sound rolled over the clearing like distant thunder, low and irregular, rumbling and cracking as it echoed off the rocks. “Okay… that’s weird. A thunderstorm?”

M'Gann slowed beside him, her brows pulling together. “Thunderstorm?” she asked, the word careful, like she wasn’t sure she was saying it right.

“Yeah, no,” The dark-skinned sidekick said, frowning as the sound shifted again, sharper now, almost a crash. “That's not thunder.”

The rumble grew louder, the sound breaking into sharp bursts like something slamming into stone. instinct kicked in, and Zeke hurried forward, clambering up a nearby ridge to get a better view. M'Gann followed, silent but close, floating after him.

Tthey reached the top just as the ground trembled beneath their feet. Zeke barely had time to brace himself before something—someone—hurtled through the air, a blur of movement that smashed into the sand below with enough force to send a spray of dust and debris flying.

The thirteen-year-old boy blinked, coughing into his elbow as the dust started to settle. The crater was huge, jagged, the edges still crumbling under the weight of the impact. 

And in the center of it—

“Oh, what the hell,” he muttered.

The figure stood slowly, his chest heaving, bare torso coated in sand and grit. His arms hung loose at his sides, but the veins bulging under his skin screamed tension, anger, barely-contained chaos. And then he threw his head back and howled, the sound ripping through the air like an animal on the edge.

Superboy.

“Superboy,” M'Gann whispered, her voice soft but tinged with relief. and something else. 

Awe, maybe?

Zeke didn’t have time to focus on it because another figure shot into view, launching herself over the rocks like a streak of black and red. Her sleeveless red jumpsuit caught the fading sunlight, her hair whipping around her as she dove straight for Superboy like a human missile.

Zeke’s stomach sank. “Yh-oh,” he muttered, throwing an arm out as M'Gann took an instinctive step forward. “Stay back.”

But of course, she didn’t listen.

M'Gann’s face lit up with something dangerously close to hope, the first flicker of emotion that didn’t scream confusion since they’d found her. Her whole expression shifted—soft, almost bright, as if just seeing him there fixed some part of her she hadn’t known was broken.

“Superboy!” she called out, her voice clear, cutting through the static-like tension hanging over the clearing.

Zeke’s stomach dropped.

Superboy’s roar snapped into silence, his head jerking up so fast it was almost inhuman. his eyes locked on M'Gann, and Zeke felt his chest tighten. those weren’t eyes that recognized anything. no spark of familiarity, no moment of clarity. just something raw and wild, boiling over.

Zeke didn’t breathe. He couldn’t.

And then Superboy moved.

His entire body tensed, fists clenched so hard it looked like his bones might break under the strain. The sound that tore out of his throat wasn’t human—just pure rage, shredding through the air.

“Oh, fuck,” Zeke muttered, his thoughts racing faster than he could keep up. “He doesn’t… he doesn’t even have memories of anyone… anything. There’s nothing there to remember.”

Superboy slammed his fists into his chest, the sound echoing like distant thunder, and then he charged.

It wasn’t running. 

It wasn’t even a sprint. 

It was destruction in motion.

Every step sent sand exploding into the air, clouds of it swirling around his feet like smoke.

“Shit,” Zeke hissed, throwing himself to the side as Superboy barreled past, missing him by inches. the force of it still knocked him onto his back, his head spinning. “Shit.”

But Troia? she didn’t flinch.

She was already moving before Zeke even hit the ground, a blur of motion intercepting Superboy mid-charge. Her fist connected with his jaw in a sharp, brutal arc, the crack of impact ringing out across the clearing.

Zeke barely had time to push himself up before the shockwave hit, the force rippling through the sand like a mini-earthquake.

Superboy staggered back a step, but the wild fury in his eyes didn’t falter. If anything, it burned hotter as he retaliated with a swing that would’ve turned most people into dust if it landed.

Troia ducked, her movements precise and fast, every step calculated. 

Her elbow drove into his ribs with enough force to make even Zeke wince, but Superboy barely reacted. His punches were raw, unrefined, angry. Each one missed by inches, smashing into the ground and leaving craters in their wake.

“Get behind me, citizens!” Troia barked, her voice sharp and commanding as she raised her bracers to deflect another blow. The clash of metal and skin sent sparks flying, the heat of it tangible even from where Zeke crouched.

I have not been fighting supervillains for months to be called a goddamn citizen! Zeke scrambled to his feet, brushing sand off his knees and glaring at her. “Yeah, I'll just let you get pounded into the sand. great plan!”

Superboy roared again, frustration bleeding into his movements as Troia continued to sidestep, dodge, and counter with a precision that screamed experience. Every hit she landed targeted a joint, a weak point, anything that might slow him down.

It didn’t seem to be working.

His durability wasn’t just physical—it was relentless.

Troia’s kick caught him hard enough to send him skidding across the clearing, sand spraying in all directions. for a second, Zeke thought maybe—just maybe—that’d be enough.

Nope.

Superboy dug his heels into the ground, coming to a stop with a snarl. Without hesitating, he ripped a massive chunk of rock out of the ground and hurled it toward her like it weighed nothing.

Troia didn’t flinch. 

She raised her bracers again, the impact crashing against her defenses and sending her skidding back a few feet, but she held her ground.

“You fight like a child!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. “Learn discipline!”

Superboy roared again, the sound vibrating through Zeke’s chest like a shockwave.

This time, he charged with more force, his movements less erratic, more focused. Troia waited, standing firm as he closed the distance.

Zeke’s heart pounded. she wasn’t moving. Why isn’t she moving?!

At the last second, Troia shifted, sidestepping with impossible speed and driving her knee into Superboy’s gut. The blow doubled him over, the air rushing out of his lungs in a sharp gasp.

She didn’t stop.

Before he could recover, she brought both fists down on the back of his head, the strike landing with enough force to send him sprawling into the sand.

He didn't get up this time. 

Not right away.

Troia stood over him, her breathing steady but sharp, her fists clenched at her sides. “I do not seek to kill you, demigod,” she said, her voice low but firm. “But you try an Amazon’s patience.”

But Superboy wasn’t listening. 

He couldn’t.

Zeke’s jaw tightened as he watched the half-Kryptonian stagger back to his feet, his movements heavy but… wrong. 

Like all that strength had nowhere to go except through whatever was in his way. His fist slammed upward, catching Troia mid-step and sending her flying back at least a dozen meters, definitely more. The young Amazon hit the ground hard, rolling twice before she sprang up like it was nothing.

“Okay,” Zeke muttered aloud. “This is bad. really, really bad.”“Ezekiel…”He snapped his gaze to the side as M’gann’s voice reminded him she was still there. “Huh?”The green girl’s gaze was locked nervously on the fight in front of them, green eyes snapping between both black-haired bricks as they traded blows. “Who… who is she?”Zeke pulled a slight face at the sight of the she in question, dodging a wild lariat from the raging clone. “Donna Troy, codename: Troia. Younger sister of Justice League Hero, Wonder Woman.”

He shifted on his heels as he turned his attention back to the fight, focused on staying just far enough away to not get caught in the fallout, his mind racing. They weren’t going to win this by brute force—not with him like this. Superboy didn’t just fight harder, he fought like someone who didn’t care about breaking the entire desert to win.

And Troia? She wasn’t slowing down either.

Superboy lunged again, a blur of raw power as he swung. Troia braced herself, her bracers catching the full force of his punch. the impact cracked through the air like a whip, her boots sinking slightly into the sand as she held her ground.

A grin split her face, sharp and wild. “Oh, is that all?” she called, her voice almost teasing as she leaned back, already preparing for his next strike. “Come now! surely you can do better!”

Zeke bit back a curse. Oh, great, she’s a literal mini Wonder Woman.  “Uh, Donna?” he called out, cupping a hand around his mouth as he shifted behind one of the rocks. “Maybe don’t antagonize the dude who could bench-press a battleship?”

No response. Her focus was entirely on the fight.

Troia weaved through Superboy’s attacks like she’d been born to do it, every dodge timed so perfectly Zeke would’ve thought she was reading his moves if he didn’t know better. Her counter came fast, an uppercut to his jaw that snapped his head back with a thunderous crack.

Zeke’s stomach twisted. No matter how good Troia was, Superboy just kept coming. 

If anything, the fight seemed to fuel him, his punches faster, harder, like each one carried more weight than the last. Was he always this strong? No…

“...he’s stronger,” Zeke muttered, his brow furrowing as his eyes tracked Superboy’s movements, and compared to them to what he had seen. “Almost twice as strong as before, at least.” That brought a question to mind that Zeke wasn’t even sure how to answer. “How much was he holding back?”

Superboy’s roar tore through the clearing, snapping Zeke out of his thoughts. He grabbed a chunk of rock and spun with it, momentum fueling him before he let it go at speed, the thing flying at Troia like a cannonball the size of a soccer mom’s favorite car.

she moved at the last second, leaping into the air as the boulder shattered. Shards of stone scattered in every direction, but Troia landed gracefully, her bracers glinting as she dusted herself off.

Superboy charged again, sand exploding under his feet as he closed the distance. This time, it wasn’t just wild swings—it was relentless. a storm of punches, one after the other, each powerful enough to turn bone to dust and then some.

Troia blocked most of them, but even her bracers couldn’t absorb all that force. She was driven back, her boots skidding through the sand as she tried to hold her ground.

Zeke’s chest tightened. She couldn’t keep this up forever. Sure, she was skilled—way more skilled—but Superboy’s raw power was overwhelming.

And then, because Troia was apparently incapable of not antagonizing her Kryptonian opponent, she smirked. “Nearly as strong as my sister,” she said, ducking under another punch and driving her knee into his ribs. “But your skill? Nothing compared to hers.”

Superboy’s response was another roar, guttural and raw, as he swung with enough force to pulverize steel.

Troia twisted out of the way, but his fist grazed her shoulder, spinning her to the ground. She hit hard, her breath coming in sharp gasps, but her grin didn’t falter.

“And yet,” she said, her tone almost teasing, “Even mindless, you learn as you fight.”

Is this how Amazons flirt? Zeke’s eyes narrowed as he watched, attention darting between the two of them. Not important. “Think, Zeke,” he muttered under his breath, gaze flicking to the jagged rocks surrounding them. Use the terrain. Distract him. Give Troia an opening.

His fingers itched to move, to do something, but before he could, Superboy lunged again. 

The clone’s fists smashed into the ground where Troia had been a moment earlier, the impact sending a shockwave rippling through the sand.

Zeke staggered, barely staying upright as the ground shifted beneath him. Troia used the opening, launching herself into the air. Her fists came down like a hammer on Superboy’s back, driving him into the sand with enough force to leave a crater.

But he wasn’t down.

He was up in an instant, faster than Zeke thought possible, grabbing Troia by the arm. Before she could react, he hurled her across the clearing like she weighed nothing.

Zeke flinched, his eyes squeezing shut as Troia slammed into the ground, dust billowing around her. Jesus.

She hit the ground hard, a grunt tearing out of her as she skidded to a stop in the sand, not far from where Zeke stood. for the first time, her expression cracked—just a little, but enough. strain tugged at the corners of her eyes, and her breathing came rougher, less controlled. she was tough, sure, but even she had limits. and Superboy was pushing her right to the edge.

“You good?” Zeke asked, his voice tighter than he meant it to be as he held out a hand to help her up.

Troia's head snapped toward him, her confusion flickering across her face like static. It was fast, gone almost as soon as it came, but yeah—she didn’t know him. 

Not really. didn’t matter.

she pushed herself to her feet, swiping blood from her lip with the back of her hand. “Better than him,” she said, the words clipped as she looked at his offered hand with disdain.

Zeke frowned. Sure, whatever.

In the clearing, Superboy stood tall, his chest heaving like a machine that didn’t know how to stop. Sand clung to his skin, streaked with dirt—no sweat, Kryptonians don’t sweat under a yellow sun—but it didn’t seem to bother him. his wild eyes darted across the battlefield, locking onto Troia with a feral, unrelenting intensity.

Zeke's fists clenched at his sides, faint blue energy sparking around them. He wasn’t sure how much good he’d do here—against that. but sitting back and doing nothing? 

Not an option.

“Okay, big guy,” he muttered under his breath, rolling his shoulders. “Round two.”

Miss Martian stepped in before he could move, her hands glowing faintly as she reached out with her mind. Her voice came low but steady, laced with that telepathic energy she used when things got serious. “Superboy… stop.”

Zeke held his breath as Superboy's head snapped toward her, his eyes narrowing. 

Then the missile hit.

Zeke barely registered the sound before it slammed into Superboy's back, the explosion ripping through the air and swallowing everything in a flash of light and heat. The shockwave sent him sprawling, his ears ringing, sand grinding into his palms as he hit the ground.

His head spun, the world a blur of sound and movement. He coughed, dragging himself upright with shaky arms, his heart hammering like it was trying to break out of his chest.

“Who dares?” Troia demanded. The girl was already on her feet, brushing sand off her bracers, stance solid even with blood streaking down her arms.

Zeke followed her gaze, his stomach sinking as he caught sight of the source of the blast.

A squad of soldiers.

They were moving in fast, a small army of tanks and trucks rolling over the dunes with precision that made his blood run cold. their weapons glinted in the fading sunlight, barrels all trained in the same direction—on them.

“Oh, great,” Zeke muttered, dragging a hand over his face. sand stuck to his skin, gritty and hot, but he barely felt it. “this is just… perfect.”

He pushed himself upright, squaring his shoulders as the adrenaline started to kick in. Faint sparks of blue energy crackled around his hands, not enough to be intimidating, but enough to remind him he wasn’t powerless. 

The young sidekick let out a shaky breath, his eyes darting between Troia, Miss Martian, and Superboy—who was already picking himself up, like the missile hadn’t even fazed him.

“This is gonna suck.”