LiBaG: Emergence 2.18b (Patreon)

The Bialyan soldiers moved like a machine, precise and unrelenting. 

Their boots pounded against the sand in time with the growling engines of the armored trucks and tanks rolling into view. The sun glinted off the barrels of their rifles, heatwaves distorting the air around them. It was a whole production.

Too much, if Zeke had to guess.

Troia stepped forward, her posture unshaken despite looking like she'd gone three rounds with a wrecking ball. Blood streaked her arms, but her stance was steady, solid, like she'd been waiting for this. "They come armed for war," she said, her voice low but—somehow—excited. "Good."

Zeke blinked. "You sound way too into this," he muttered, keeping one eye on the soldiers advancing across the sand.

Her lips twitched, maybe a smirk, maybe nothing. He didn't get a chance to ask because that's when the first shots rang out.

Bullets tore through the air, fast and sharp, ricocheting off the rocks around them. The clang of metal-on-metal was loud enough to set his teeth on edge. Troia darted forward, her bracers raised high as she deflected the rounds with practiced ease, the sparks flying off her armor like tiny fireworks.

Miss Martian was right behind her, eyes glowing as she threw a telekinetic blast that slammed into one of the trucks. The force sent it skidding sideways, its wheels kicking up a thick cloud of dust.

Zeke didn't get to watch the rest. 

A burst of gunfire ripped through the spot he'd just been standing in, and he hit the ground hard, rolling behind a jagged outcrop. The rough sand scratched against his arms as he scrambled to get his bearings.

"Yeah, okay," he muttered, swiping a hand over his face. The heat wasn't helping. 

Neither was the whole people shooting at him thing. 

He pushed himself to his feet, summoning a shield with a sharp flick of his wrist and a muttered “Mana Barrier”. Said glowing barrier flared to life just in time to eat another round of hot lethal bullets. "We're really doing this."

Out of the corner of his eye, Zeke caught a blur of movement. Superboy.

Still roaring. Still wild.

He leapt into the fray, the ground trembling under the force of his landing as he came down directly onto a tank. The metal groaned under his weight, the turret crumpling slightly before Superboy ripped it clean off with a yell that cut through the chaos like a knife. 

The sound of the metal shrieking was almost worse than the gunfire.

Zeke ducked lower, watching as Superboy flung the turret like it weighed nothing, sending it hurtling off into the distance. Some poor idiot was definitely gonna have a bad day when that landed.

"Superboy's focused. Good," Zeke muttered, mostly to himself, before raising his hands. Blue energy swirled to life around his fingers, the mana bolts forming quickly. He aimed at an advancing squad of soldiers and fired. 

The first shot hit dead center, sending two soldiers scrambling for cover. The second caught one of their rifles, snapping it clean in half. The third went wide, slamming into the side of a truck, forcing its door to crumple inward with a satisfying crunch.

"Not bad," he muttered, already charging up another volley.

And then he felt it.

The pain came sharp and fast, lancing through his shoulder before he even realized what happened.

Zeke stumbled, his shield flickering as the bullet tore through his sleeve. Heat and blood followed, sticky and immediate.

"Crap, crap, crap," he hissed, ducking back behind the rock. His hand shot to his shoulder on instinct, his fingers brushing over the wound. It stung—hot and raw—and when he pulled his hand away, it was red. 

A lot of red.

"Okay. That's not great."

+ 2 Resistance: Piercing“I guess that’s a little better.” He pressed his back against the rock, gritting his teeth as he tried to catch his breath. The sounds of the battlefield roared around him—gunfire, shouting, the dull thuds of tanks rolling closer.

Focus. Focus, damn it.

He peeked around the edge of the outcrop, his eyes scanning the chaos. Troia was still out there, deflecting bullets like it was just another…Wednesday? Miss Martian was covering her from a distance, throwing up telekinetic shields to block stray rounds.

Superboy? Yeah, he was still doing his whole hulk-smash thing, only for another tank shot to slam into him with a deafening boom.

“That’s it!” Zeke clenched his fists, royal blue energy sparking faintly around them as he forced himself upright. His shoulder ached, and the wound throbbed, but it wasn’t enough to keep him down. “Consider my pet peeved!” A low growl from Superboy cut through the tense silence as the clone clawed his way to his feet, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. 

“Keep your heads down!” Zeke shouted, his voice hoarse from the sand-filled air. He braced himself, raising his shield in time to deflect a barrage of gunfire wirth a hastily-raised Mana Barrier. The shield absorbed the bullets with a dull thud, his energy stores dipping a bit with each projectile block, but the sudden movement of his arm still jolted his arm painfully.

“Miss Martian, Troia—take the left flank!” he yelled, barely hearing his own voice. “We need to push them back before they box us in!”

“Understood, Son of Man,” Troia replied, her tone sharp and determined. Zeke shot a look her way, face twisted up. Son of wh-Troia darted forward, her bracers catching the gleam of fading sunlight as she deflected a hail of bullets. She slammed into a group of soldiers with unrelenting force, sending them sprawling.

Zeke’s eyes stayed on her, widening slightly as he watched her fight.

Despite being tossed around by Superboy barely a half minute ago, Troia was living it up, like she was born for this.

Which… she might have been, depending on which backstory this version had. Not the time, man!

She moved like a whirlwind, each strike hitting like a sledgehammer as she pulled her punches with the human soldiers but only just enough that they didn’t die. Honestly, sick.

A soldier lunged at her, baton raised high, but she caught it mid-swing, snapping the thing clean in half like it was a twig. Her knee came up fast, catching the guy square in the chest and sending him flying back with a grunt.

Another one tried to rush her with a knife. Stupid move. 

She sidestepped, her movements quick and effortless, then spun on her heel. Her kick connected with his jaw, and he went down hard, the knife clattering uselessly to the ground.

“Is that all you’ve got?” she called, her voice carrying over the chaos like it was no big deal. she was grinning, blood streaking down her arms, her hair wild in the wind, but she was grinning. “Is this all Man’s World has to offer a True Daughter of Themyscira?”

 I can hear the capitalization on that. Zeke blinked. “Okay, somebody’s havin’ way too much fun…”

Not far off, Miss Martian was holding her own, but barely. her hands glowed faint green as she flung chunks of debris at the advancing tanks, her movements sharp and fast. At the same time, she was using her telepathy, messing with the soldiers’ heads. Some of them staggered, clutching at their helmets like they’d just heard something they weren’t supposed to.

But there were too many.

“Zeke!” she called out, her voice tight with strain. “A little help here!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it,” Zeke muttered, forcing himself up even though his shoulder still throbbed. The pain didn’t matter right now. He raised his hands, summoning a fresh mana barrier just as another spray of bullets slammed into it. 

He dropped the shield just long enough to hurl a quick barrage of mana bolts. They shot out fast and tight, glowing like miniature blue comets. Two hit their marks, forcing a group of soldiers to dive for cover. The third clipped the edge of a truck, crumpling the metal like a soda can.

Zeke paused, taking a second to breathe, and that’s when it happened.

A shadow darted through the fray, moving faster than his eyes could track.

Robin.

Zeke blinked, watching as the kid wonder practically danced through the battlefield. His staff twirled in a blur, disarming soldiers like it was child’s play. One guy went for him with a rifle, and Robin flipped over him like it was nothing, planting a smoke bomb on the way down.

The thing went off with a hiss, sending soldiers coughing and stumbling blindly.

“Where the hell did you come from?” Zeke called, his voice half-incredulous, half-annoyed.

Robin didn’t even look at him. “No time,” he snapped, his eyes scanning the chaos like he was already five steps ahead. “Who are you, and what’s going on?”

Zeke groaned, running a hand over his face. “Oh, great, another one with no memory. Just what we needed.”

But there wasn’t time for more.

By the time the dust started to settle, the Bialyan soldiers were retreating, their trucks and tanks reduced to smoldering wrecks. Some of them ran. Others limped. Didn't matter. They were done.

Superboy wasn't, though.

He stood in the center of the wreckage, chest heaving, his wild eyes scanning for more targets. His fists clenched, his muscles taut like he was ready to explode all over again.

And then he did.

Roaring like an animal, he lunged at Troia, who didn't flinch.

"Oh, for—fine," she growled, stepping into his charge.

Their clash was pure chaos. He swung wildly, his fists slamming into her bracers hard enough to spark. She ducked, sidestepped, then grabbed his arm, twisting it in a way that looked all kinds of painful.

Zeke didn't know what he was watching. Wrestling? Some kind of ancient martial arts thing? Didn't matter. All he knew was Troia moved like a predator, locking Superboy into hold after hold.

One moment, she had him by the neck, forcing him down. The next, she hooked her leg around his, sending him sprawling into the sand.

"Miss Martian!" she barked, her voice tight as she strained to keep Superboy pinned. "Now!"

Miss Martian didn't hesitate.

She stepped forward, her hands glowing brighter now, brushing against Superboy's temples.

"Relax, Connor," she whispered, voice soft but firm as Superboy eased up, the clone still barely lucid but far more calm despite his lack of awareness. "You're okay. We're here."

"Someone want to tell me what the hell is going on here?" Robin snapped, his voice cutting through the desert chaos like a whip. His gaze darted between everyone, sharp and searching, the grip on his staff tight like he was expecting any of them to attack.

Zeke turned, panting, his mana shield flickering before it stabilized again. "Glad you could join us," he said, tone flat, sweat dripping down his face. "Lemme guess—no memory, right? Same as the rest of them."

Robin's brows furrowed, his stance shifting into something even more defensive. "What's that supposed to mean?" he shot back, staff raised just enough to send a clear message.

Zeke opened his mouth to answer, but the blur of red and yellow cut him off. Kid Flash skidded into view, Artemis slung awkwardly in his arms. He stopped just short of crashing into them, a lopsided grin on his face. "Rob? That you?" his voice cracked, relief bleeding into every syllable.

Robin blinked, his staff lowering by a fraction. "KF?"

Kid Flash set Artemis down, dusting sand off his suit like it'd been nothing but a minor inconvenience getting here. "Rob, man, it's you! Haven't seen you in weeks!"

Robin's expression darkened, his grip tightening on his staff again. "Weeks? It's been months, kid."

That stopped Kid Flash in his tracks. "What?"

"It's September Fourth. Two-thousand-ten," Robin said, his voice grim, words clipped. "It's been months."

Kid Flash's grin faltered, confusion creasing his brow. "...Oh. Uh, weird." He shifted awkwardly, his eyes flicking to the others. "So, uh… who're these guys?"

Zeke stepped forward, swiping at the grit stuck to his forehead, his arms still tense like he was bracing for another wave of bullets. "I can answer that."

Robin and Kid Flash turned to him in unison, suspicion practically radiating off them. Robin's voice was sharper now. "And you are?"

Zeke smirked, crossing his arms. "Genesis. Proton Genesis. Captain Atom's sidekick."

Kid Flash raised an eyebrow, his head tilting. "Never heard of you."

"Same," Robin added, his voice cold, eyes narrowing as he adjusted his grip on the staff.

Zeke's smirk faded for a second, then came back. "Yeah, well, if you remembered the last six months, you would."

Robin's frown deepened. "What do you know about the last six months?"

Before Zeke could answer, Miss Martian spoke up, her voice soft, hesitant. "He… he knows us."

Robin's head snapped toward her, eyes narrowing like he was trying to piece her apart with just a look. "Who's 'us'?"

Kid Flash, still glancing between Miss Martian and Troia, froze mid-shift. His gaze locked onto the two women like something had finally clicked—or almost had. "And who are you two?" he asked, his voice quieter now.

Zeke sighed, arms falling back to his sides. "Kid Flash, Robin, Artemis…" he trailed off, catching Artemis's gaze, his smirk sharpening. "You know me?" she asked, her voice shaky but low, like she was daring him to prove her wrong.

Zeke's grin widened. "And your sister too," he said, the words casual, almost lazy. "Tell her I said hi."

Artemis blinked, her mouth opening like she wanted to respond but didn't have the words. "…Uh…"

Zeke turned, motioning toward the others. "Anyway. Kid Flash, Robin, Artemis—meet Miss Martian, Troia, and Superboy."

Robin's eyebrows shot up. "Superboy?"

"Yep," Zeke said, not bothering to elaborate further. "Superboy."

"And all of us…" he paused, his smirk fading slightly as he straightened. "We're a team."

Kid Flash raised an eyebrow, skepticism practically written all over his face. "Oh yeah? What team is that supposed to be?"

Zeke's expression hardened, the smirk gone entirely now. "Young just—"

The crack of rifle fire cut through the air, sharp and sudden, cutting him off mid-sentence. Instinct kicked in before thought, Zeke throwing up a mana barrier while Robin, Kid Flash, and Artemis dove for cover. The bullets slammed into the shield, blue light rippling across the surface as it absorbed the hits.

Zeke's heart raced, the sound of the shots still ringing in his ears as his gaze darted toward the others. And that's when he saw her.

Troia staggered, her knees buckling as she crumpled to the ground. Clutching her side, the proud Amazon let out a scream—a raw, guttural sound that hit like a punch to the chest.

"TROIA!"