Mark & Barbara

Barbara stood outside the principal's office, leaning against the wall with a mix of frustration and concern. Mark had gotten himself into trouble again—fighting, of course. She knew things weren't easy for him at this school, especially with the constant bullying he faced from the richer kids, the "old bloods," as he called them. She got it, to an extent. As the commissioner's daughter, she didn't face the same level of harassment, but she could still sympathize with his situation. It was hard, though, to watch him fall into the same cycle every time.

She tugged absentmindedly at her plait, wishing he would learn to ignore them. But he was stubborn. She sighed, her fingers running through her hair as she watched the door to the office. She hoped they wouldn't suspend him again. He was smart, capable, but if he kept fighting like this, they'd have no choice but to expel him.

The door opened with a creak, and out stepped Mark. His lip was cut, and a nasty black eye was swelling up on his face, but other than that, he seemed okay—better than Barbara had expected, at least. He caught sight of her and grinned, the same cocky smile that always seemed to melt her frustration. He swung his bag over his shoulder and started walking down the hall. Barbara, not having any of it, marched up to him and smacked him on the arm. "Don't give me that smile, asshole!" she snapped, her tone sharp but still with a hint of concern. "What happened? Have you been suspended?"

Mark rubbed his bruised cheek, still smiling despite the pain. "Nah, not this time," he said, shrugging nonchalantly. "Everyone saw Harold throw the first punch, so I'm off the hook. Principal just told me to head home early."

Barbara let out a relieved breath, though her frown remained. She'd known Mark for years, and as much as he was a doofus, he was also one of the kindest, most genuine people she knew. Still, she couldn't help but get frustrated with him for always picking fights. She walked beside him as they headed toward the exit, her thoughts racing. 'If only he would just ignore them when they provoked him...'

"So, where do you think you're going?" Mark's voice cut through her thoughts as he veered toward the exit.

Barbara rolled her eyes. "Where do you think, meathead? I'm taking you home, just in case you have a concussion and pass out," she said, her tone mocking but with real worry behind it. She shot him an angry glare, though it just looked like a cute pout.

Mark smirked, teasing. "Aww, I didn't realize you cared, carrot cake," he said, reaching out to ruffle the top of her head.

Barbara swatted his hand away, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks. "Don't call me that," she muttered, quickly turning her face away from him to hide it.

Mark chuckled softly, the sound rich with amusement. "Come on then," he said, grabbing her arm and pulling her toward the door with a playful tug. "We can play a few rounds of Smash at mine. I know you want to see me kick your ass again."

Barbara yelped, not expecting him to be so forceful, but she followed along, trying to maintain her composure. Despite everything, she couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. It wasn't fair, really. He couldn't make her feel like this and get away with it, she'd have to get her revenge soon.

...

"What! There's no way you could beat Batman in a fight," Barbara said, half-shouting, half-laughing. The idea was so absurd that she didn't even try to hide her amusement, letting out a loud laugh that echoed down the cracked and graffiti-covered street.

Mark grinned, clearly unbothered by her disbelief. "I didn't say I could beat him," he shot back, already raising his fists and bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. "But I reckon I could get two—maybe three—good shots in before he put me down." He fired off a quick jab and a straight, as if demonstrating the hits he'd land.

Barbara crossed her arms and smirked, shaking her head. "You'd be lucky if you even saw him before he knocked you out," she said, tapping his arm with mock sympathy. "Batman's out of your league, bro."

Mark rolled his eyes and dropped his fists, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "Yeah, yeah. Keep doubting me."

They kept walking, weaving through the filth and chaos of the streets. Barbara tried not to look at the drug dealers and sex workers posted up at every corner, some casually smoking or chatting like it was just another day at the office. She kept her gaze straight ahead, but her shoulders were tense, and her steps quickened without her even realizing it.

She hated walking through this part of Gotham, hated how the people lurking in doorways always seemed to look at her a little too long. She didn't want to sound stuck-up, but it was just so different from her neighborhood—where cops and their families lived, where people still watered their lawns and waved hello to each other.

"Did you remember to tape Heroes and Demons?" Barbara asked, hoping to distract herself. They'd both been obsessed with the show ever since Mark's mom let them watch it past bedtime. Sure, it was cheesy and the special effects were garbage, but that was part of the charm. Heroes fighting monsters pouring out of hell portals? It was practically their religion at this point.

Mark's face immediately fell, and Barbara's heart sank right along with it.

"Crap..." he said, running a hand through his hair. "I knew I forgot something this morning."

"Moron!" Barbara groaned, shoving him hard enough to make him stumble. "Green Flashlight just confessed his love for Pigeon Woman! And now we have to wait until Sunday for the reruns!"

Mark checked his watch and looked up quickly. "We can still make it back to mine in time if we run. Come on!"

Before Barbara could protest, he grabbed her arm and took off down the sidewalk, dragging her along behind him. They dodged pedestrians, squeezed between trash cans, and jumped over puddles that Barbara didn't even want to think about. Her glasses nearly slipped off her nose twice, and she was out of breath by the time Mark finally skidded to a stop.

"Why'd you stop?" Barbara asked, panting as she adjusted her glasses.

Mark pointed to a narrow alleyway cutting between two abandoned buildings. "Shortcut."

Barbara immediately frowned. "No. Your mom specifically told us to stick to the main roads."

"It's the middle of the day," Mark said, flashing his signature grin like that was supposed to settle the argument.

Barbara wasn't having it. "My dad tells me the same thing. We should really just stick to the main road."

Mark chuckled and stepped into the alley dramatically, throwing his arms out wide. "See? Nothing happened. Come on, let's go before we miss it."

Barbara hesitated. Something about the alley set her on edge—maybe it was the way the shadows stretched longer than they should have, even in daylight. Or maybe it was the overflowing dumpster and broken bottles scattered near the entrance.

"Mark..." she started, her voice quieter now.

"Relax," he said, motioning for her to follow. "We'll be out the other side in two minutes."

Barbara bit her lip and forced herself to step inside. Her heart thudded in her chest as the alley closed in around her, the high brick walls pressing tight on both sides. Mark walked ahead, totally unfazed. "Come on! We gotta hurry, or we'll miss it," Mark called back, picking up the pace as he weaved around the overflowing dumpster.

Barbara tried to keep up, her heart still racing from their earlier run. She adjusted her glasses as they started to slip, cursing under her breath. "Slow down, dumbass! Not all of us have legs like stilts!"

Mark smirked but didn't slow down. "Sucks to be short!" he teased, looking back at her for just a second.

And that's when it happened.

A blur shot out from behind the dumpster. Thud!

Mark hit the wall hard, his shoulder slamming into the bricks with enough force to knock the wind out of him.

"Mark!" Barbara screamed, panic spiking through her veins as she rushed forward.

Mark staggered but didn't go down. He braced himself against the wall, already straightening up with a wince. "I'm fine," he said, though his voice was tight.

"You won't be for long if you don't empty your pockets," a sharp, grating voice called out.

Barbara turned toward it and froze. The guy standing there couldn't have been older than seventeen, but he looked worn down—pale, sweaty, and jittery. His clothes were torn and stained, hanging off his thin frame like rags. His eyes twitched as he spoke, wide and bloodshot.

A junkie.

"We will, just don't—" Barbara started, but Mark cut her off.

"Fuck no!" Mark barked, pushing himself off the wall and squaring his shoulders. Though he still wasn't taller than the other kid since he was only thirteen.

Barbara grabbed his arm. "Mark, just give it to him! It's not worth it!" she hissed, her voice low and urgent.

She could tell from the way the junkie's hands shook and his eyes darted that he wasn't stable. He'd do anything for another hit, and right now, Mark was pissing him off.

"I'm not giving this piece of trash anything!" Mark roared, his voice echoing through the alley. "He can crawl back into the gutter he came from!"

Barbara barely had time to shout before Mark swung. His fist connected with the junkie's jaw, sending him stumbling back into a pile of trash bags and broken bottles.

"Mark, stop!" Barbara cried, but it was too late.

The junkie came up fast, wild-eyed and furious—and this time, he wasn't empty-handed.

Barbara saw the flash of the knife, but Mark didn't.

"Mark, no!!!"

She didn't think. She just moved.

Her body slammed into Mark, shoving him to the ground and out of the way.

Relief hit her for a split second when she saw him safe, but then she noticed the look on his face.

Pure horror.

She didn't understand—until the pain hit.

It wasn't instant. At first, it was just pressure, like something sharp was pinning her in place. Then the fire bloomed.

She looked down and saw the knife buried in her stomach, the blade glinting under the dim alley light.

"Oh..."

The world tilted, and she hit the ground.

"BARBARA!!!"

Mark's voice tore through the haze, but it sounded far away.

She heard more shouting. A roar. The crash of bodies. But her vision was already starting to blur.

Through half-lidded eyes, she saw Mark tackle the junkie and drive him into the wall. She thought she saw him lift the guy off the ground, but that couldn't be right.

Then Mark threw him across the alley like a ragdoll. The junkie hit the opposite wall and crumpled. Before he could get up, Mark was on him again.

Barbara blinked and tried to focus. She saw Mark draw his fist back—saw it come down hard.

Crack.

The junkie didn't move after that.

Then Mark was back at her side, his hands shaking as he pressed them against the wound in her stomach.

"Stay with me, Barb. Stay awake, okay? I'll get help. Where's your phone?"

His voice was panicked, breaking as he spoke. She'd never heard him sound like that before.

She tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. Her lips trembled, and her breath hitched.

"Mark..."

Tears burned her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She didn't want to die. She couldn't die. Not here, not like this. The alley was spinning, the shadows getting darker. Mark's voice kept cutting in and out, calling her name, begging her to hold on.

She tried.

But the darkness kept creeping closer until it engulfed her completely.

___________________________

Barbara's eyes snapped open, her chest heaving as if she'd just surfaced from drowning. Her breaths came sharp and uneven, and for a moment, the pain in her stomach felt as real as it had that day in the alley, it was strange, she hadn't dreamt about that day for a long time. Her hand instinctively moved down, fingers trembling as they brushed over bandages. The touch sent a jolt through her system, and then the memories came flooding back—the fight, the mall, Gus, Larry.

Her body tensed, adrenaline spiking. She sat up fast, ignoring the flare of pain as her muscles protested. Her eyes scanned the room, her mind struggling to make sense of where she was. Floral-patterned curtains, cheap beige carpet, and mismatched furniture—Debbie's apartment. Before she could fully process it, a voice behind her made her freeze.

"Chill out there, Batgirl. I'd rather you not trash my mom's place."

Her blood turned to ice. That voice. It couldn't be. She didn't turn around. She refused to. Her fingers dug into the fabric of the blanket she'd been covered with, and her heart hammered against her ribs. This isn't real. I'm dreaming. Or hallucinating.

"Hey, Red. Kinda rude pretending I'm not here."

She clenched her fists, trying to steady herself, but the voice—his voice—cut through her like a blade. It was cocky, familiar, and so alive. She had to look. She had to. Steeling herself, Barbara slowly turned—and there he was.

Mark.

He stood casually in the doorway, arms crossed, wearing that same cocky grin he always had. He looked alive. Breathing. Real.

Barbara's breath hitched. "I must be dead..." she whispered, barely audible.

Mark heard it anyway. He arched an eyebrow and smirked. "Almost. But I dealt with those assholes before they could finish the job. No need to thank me or anything—though I do accept cash. I hear you bats are loaded."

Barbara barely registered his words. Her mind was still struggling to accept what she was seeing. "This can't be real..." She reached out, almost afraid he'd disappear if she touched him. But before she could make contact, Mark grabbed her hand.

His grip was warm—solid—and that was all it took to shatter the last bit of doubt. He was real.

The dam broke. Tears welled up and spilled over as relief crashed into her. "Mark..." she choked out before lunging forward, throwing her arms around him and tackling him to the ground.

"What the hell?!" Mark blurted as they hit the carpet with a thud. He winced as Barbara buried her face in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably.

Mark's confusion was obvious. His hands hovered awkwardly, unsure of whether to push her off or pat her back. He settled for poking her shoulder. "Uh... do you mind getting off?"

Barbara didn't respond. She just clung to him tighter, her body trembling against his.

Mark's discomfort grew due to her state of undress. With the blanket kicked off, she wore only a sports bra and panties, along with the bandages wrapping her stomach. He flushed slightly but tried to focus on the bigger picture.

"Hey, seriously, what's wrong with you?" Mark asked, his voice softer this time.

Barbara finally lifted her head, tears streaking her face. "You're alive," she said, voice cracking. Her face was contorted in a funny way making her look really strange.

Mark's eyes narrowed as something clicked in his head. He'd been suspicious since she'd woken up, but now it hit him like a freight train. The way she'd looked at him—the way she'd called his name—he'd seen that expression before.

"Barbara?" he said, barely more than a whisper.

Her eyes widened, her breath catching. She froze.

That was all the confirmation Mark needed.

His eyes went wide. "It is you!"

Barbara scrambled back, wiping her face with her hand as she tried to recover. "No, it's not!"

Mark pushed himself up, pointing at her. "Moron, you just admitted it!"

"You're the moron!" Barbara snapped.

They stared at each other, frozen for a moment.

Then they both burst out laughing.

Mark fell back against the floor, still chuckling as he ran a hand through his hair. "I can't believe it—you're Batgirl!"

Barbara wiped her face again, sniffling as she tried to pull herself together. "I can't believe you're alive! You're supposed to be dead, Mark! I thought—I thought I lost you forever, and yet here you are!"

Her voice cracked at the end, and Mark's smile faded just a little. He scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, well..." He shrugged. "I've nearly died a few times now. It's kinda lost its novelty at this point."

Barbara's eyes softened, her tears drying but leaving her cheeks flushed. She looked at him like she couldn't quite believe he was real, like any second he might disappear. "You're unbelievable," she whispered, shaking her head with a watery smile.

Mark was about to respond, but then his eyes drifted—just for a second—and it hit him again that Barbara was sitting there in nothing but a sports bra, underwear. He immediately looked away, clearing his throat as his face reddened.

"You might want to, uh..." He gestured vaguely in her direction.

Barbara blinked before realizing what he meant. Her eyes widened, and a bright blush spread across her cheeks. "Damn perv!" she muttered, snatching the blanket off the couch and pulling it tightly around herself.

Mark smirked, though he was careful not to look again. "I wasn't looking, relax."

Barbara glared at him but couldn't keep the fondness out of her eyes. She let out a long breath and, instead of moving away, slid down to sit next to him against the wall. Mark raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

"You're really alive," Barbara said softly, leaning her head against his shoulder like she used to back when they were kids. She clutched the blanket tightly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought—I thought I'd never see you again."

Mark stiffened for just a moment before relaxing, letting his head rest back against the wall. "Yeah, well, I'm not that easy to get rid of."

Barbara smiled through the tears still glistening in her eyes. "You idiot."

Mark chuckled lightly. "Takes one to know one."

They sat in silence for a while, Barbara felt the steady rise and fall of his chest, grounding her. She still didn't understand how this was possible—how Mark could be here, they'd said he was killed by the Joker—but right now, she didn't care. "I missed you, Mark," she admitted quietly.

Mark hesitated before replying, his voice softer than usual. "I missed you too, Carrot cake."

___________________________

*Beep*

*Beep*

*Beep*

Alarms screamed through the Cadmus research center. Soldiers scrambled into defensive positions, weapons raised and safeties off. Scientists fled down reinforced corridors, slamming security doors behind them. In the command center, Amanda Waller stood in front of the main console. Screens flickered with static and bloodied hallways. Her jaw was tight, her eyes cold.

"Get those damn blast doors shut! Focus all turrets on the lower levels! I want reinforcements—now!"

No one responded. The comms were filled with screaming, gunfire, and static. On the monitors, three Viltrumites tore through the facility. They weren't in a rush. They didn't need to be.

Nolan crushed a soldier's skull with one hand, blood and bone coating his white suit. His prosthetic arm dented the steel wall as he shoved another guard into it hard enough to break his spine. The man twitched on the floor until Nolan stomped down on his head. He didn't look down. He didn't stop moving.

Anissa caught a soldier mid-sprint, yanking him back by the collar. He screamed, clawing at her hands. She slammed him into the floor, ribs shattering. He coughed blood, but she wasn't done. She drove her fist into his chest, snapping through bone. She didn't even look when she pulled her hand out and let him drop.

Lucan plowed through the defenses. He caught a burst of gunfire in the chest and didn't flinch. He grabbed one of the shooters, lifting him off the ground by the neck. The man kicked and gagged, clawing at Lucan's arm. Lucan squeezed. The skin split and blood sprayed. He dropped the body and moved to the next.

The soldiers fought back, but it didn't matter. Nolan ripped through a group of them, hitting one so hard his body folded backward over a railing. Anissa dodged bullets like they weren't there, snapping necks and breaking limbs in seconds. Lucan didn't dodge. He let them shoot him until they ran out of bullets, then crushed their heads one by one.

Waller's fingers tightened around the edge of the console.

"Containment has failed. Prepare emergency countermeasures."

"Ma'am," one of the techs said, voice shaking, "the vault doors won't hold. They're already breaching—"

The feed cut out.

Waller didn't blink. "Activate Galatea."

The techs froze. A few exchanged panicked looks.

"You heard me," Waller snapped. "Activate her now!"

Before anyone could argue, the door to the command center bent inward. Metal groaned as it crumpled, the reinforced steel folding like cardboard. Nolan stepped through first, blood dripping from his hands. Anissa followed, wiping gore off her cheek. Lucan walked in last, cracking his knuckles.

"Waller," Nolan said as he floated inside, his voice calm but heavy.

"Nolan," Waller spat back, her teeth clenched so tight it hurt.

A grin spread across his face as he stepped forward. The lab technicians and soldiers froze. Some made the mistake of running. Anissa blurred across the room, cutting them down before they reached the door. Blood sprayed the walls, and their bodies hit the floor in broken piles.

"It wasn't easy to find you," Nolan said, his eyes scanning the room like he was already bored. "After you moved from your last base, you really thought you could hide?"

He floated closer, brushing dust off his suit.

"We had to tear apart five other facilities before we found this one." He stopped next to Waller, placing his hand on a technician's shoulder. The man flinched but didn't move, his face pale and drenched in sweat. Nolan smirked. " Ibet you regret ever working with me."

Waller didn't answer. Her eyes locked on his, sharp and unyielding.

Nolan laughed softly. "You always thought the League would enslave you. You feared them ruling over humanity, didn't you?" He leaned in closer, voice low but sharp. "And in the end, it was me. And you helped."

Waller's fists clenched at her sides, her breathing tight and shallow.

"How does that feel?" Nolan asked, his smile fading. The tech under Nolan's grip whimpered.

"Don't!" Waller snapped, but Nolan didn't even look at her.

Splat.

The man's head burst in Nolan's hand, bones cracking, flesh splitting. Blood hit Nolan's suit and Waller's face. She didn't flinch, but her eyes burned. Nolan let the body drop.

"No matter," he said, wiping his bloody fingers on his cape. "I need something from you."

"And what's that?" Waller hissed.

Nolan's eyes narrowed. "The location of the League members and the systems you use to track them."

Waller didn't blink.

"And," Nolan continued, "where's the Kryptonian? Supergirl."

"No." The word left her mouth before she could stop herself.

Lucan snarled and crossed the room in a blur. He grabbed a console and hurled it against the wall, shattering glass and metal. Sparks rained down, lighting the blood on the floor. "I'll make you talk!" Lucan roared as he grabbed Waller by the throat and lifted her off the ground. Waller's boots kicked uselessly, but she didn't cry out.

"They call you the Wall," Lucan said, his fingers tightening around her neck. Her skin started to bruise. "Watch how fast I break you." Her hands clawed at his grip, but he didn't budge.

"Keep her alive," Nolan ordered without even looking.

Lucan bared his teeth but didn't squeeze any harder.

Nolan turned to Anissa. "Question the others."

Anissa didn't hesitate. She grabbed a technician by the hair and yanked him out of his chair. He screamed as she slammed him against the floor, knocking the wind out of him.

"Where's your data vault?" she demanded.

He stammered, blood dripping from his nose. "I—I don't know!"

She snapped his arm backward. Bones tore through skin. He howled, but she just grabbed his other arm.

"Try again," she said flatly.

Behind her, Lucan let out a low growl as Waller's legs stopped kicking. She was turning purple.

"Enough," Nolan said, walking over. "We need her awake."

Lucan dropped her. She hit the floor hard, coughing and gasping for air.

Nolan knelt beside her, wiping blood from her face with his thumb.

"I'll ask again, Waller," he said quietly. "Where's the Kryptonian?"

Waller smiled for the first time since they'd arrived. "She's right here..."

...

Floating high above the burning Cadmus base, Galatea smirked. Her short blonde hair whipped in the wind, and her white suit clung to her curves, leaving little to the imagination. The design mimicked the Viltrumite uniforms, but hers flaunted her body—deep cleavage framed by the tight fabric and legs bare from the upper thigh down, long and sculpted like a statue carved to perfection.

In one hand, she casually held what looked like an ICBM, her fingers digging into the metal casing as if it were made of paper. Smoke and fire billowed below her, the base already in chaos, sirens wailing uselessly.

She could almost picture Waller's smug face down there, waiting for her savior to arrive. Waiting for her weapon to step in and clean up the mess.

Not today.

Galatea tilted her head, her grin widening as she looked down at the writhing ants scurrying through the wreckage. She spun the missile lazily, like a baton.

"Sorry, Waller," she said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "It's been fun, really. But I think it's time we part ways. I'm sure you'll understand—being so pragmatic and all."

Her fingers crushed the missile's shell as she cocked her arm back.

"Consider this my resignation."

She hurled the missile downward, and it tore through the air like a thunderclap, whistling as it plummeted toward the shattered base.

The explosion came a heartbeat later. A deafening roar shook the ground, fire blooming outward in a blinding wave. The shockwave ripped through what was left of the walls, tearing metal beams apart like twigs. Fuel lines ignited, setting off a chain of secondary explosions that engulfed the remains of the command center.

Flaming bodies were flung into the air before crashing down in pieces. Shattered glass rained over smoldering corpses. Soldiers who had survived the Viltrumites' attack were vaporized instantly, and the ones outside the blast radius screamed as the fire caught their uniforms and flesh.

Galatea hovered above it all, her grin never fading as the shockwave pushed at her but did nothing to move her. Smoke and flame reflected in her eyes.

"I wish I could savour this moment," she said with almost a moan as her hand traced down her body wiping a speck of soot off her thigh.

Taking one last look at the crater below she shot off into the sky. She wasn't under any delusion that the Viltrumites were dead, and they'd likely be after her when they recovered. For now all she had to do was figure out a way to get that damn kryptonite out of her head.

Down below, in the smoking crater where the Cadmus base had once stood, Nolan, Anissa, and Lucan burst free from the layers of twisted steel and shattered concrete that had buried them. Dust and ash billowed around them as they rose from the rubble, unscathed but seething. The fires still burned, licking at the edges of the crater, but they paid it no mind. Nolan stood at the center, his eyes scanning the horizon. His uniform was torn and dirtied, and his prosthetic promethium arm glinted in the flickering firelight. Blood and grime streaked his face, making his expression look even more terrifying.

Anissa landed beside him, brushing chunks of debris off her shoulders with a look of disgust. Her short black hair was matted with soot, and her now exposed arms and legs were streaked with dirt, but she didn't care. She was more annoyed than anything else. Lucan followed last, towering over them as he stomped out of the wreckage. His dark skin was smeared with soot, his muscles tense and twitching with rage. He barely restrained the urge to smash the nearest piece of debris into powder.

Nolan's fists clenched as he glared up at the sky. His jaw tightened, and the veins in his neck bulged as he pieced it together. Supergirl. It had to be.

"She's gone," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. His eyes remained locked on the horizon, scanning for any trace of movement.

Anissa crossed her arms, her brow furrowed. "What now? She hit us and ran—just like a coward." She spat onto the ground, clearly frustrated.

Nolan didn't even look at her. His voice came out sharp and cold. "Anissa. Lucan. Find her. Track her down."

Anissa's expression twisted. "And what about you? I thought we agreed to stick together."

Nolan finally turned to face her, his eyes burning with rage. "It's taking too long."

Anissa's lips parted to argue, but Nolan's next words froze her.

"If you can't bring her in yourselves—then die."

Lucan let out a low growl, cracking his knuckles. Anissa's eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed. She scowled, but said nothing. Without another word, Nolan shot into the sky, the force of his takeoff kicking up dirt and rubble in a violent gust. The clouds swallowed him as he disappeared, leaving the two younger Viltrumites alone in the ruins.

Anissa glared after him before looking at Lucan. "Let's go."

Lucan rolled his shoulders, his massive frame shifting as he prepared to take off. "I hope she fights," he muttered.

"She will." Anissa smirked darkly, then rocketed into the air with Lucan close behind, leaving nothing but fire and corpses in their wake.

(AN: So this is the beginning of the short arc with the Viltrumites and Galatea, also Kara's birth and their baby. After that we will go into the main topic of the Arc which is the Viltrumite War and other good stuff. Anyway I hope you enjoyed the Chapter.)

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