Somewhere

There had been many moments in Kaldur'ahm's life when his loyalty had been tested. Today had not been one of them, but it was a close call.

From the moment they arrived at the Hall of Justice, something had felt... shallow. They were being honored, yes, but not trusted. A tour in place of a mission. A pat on the head instead of a call to arms.

He had stood silent as Speedy voiced his outrage—his disappointment was louder in silence than any of Wally's wisecracks or Roy's bitterness. The Watchtower, hidden from them. Their so-called day of becoming something more was little more than ceremony.

If we are to become the next generation, then we must be trusted as such

Still, he hadn't left with Speedy. Loyalty came first. But even loyalty could bend under the weight of truth. And when Robin suggested they investigate the fire at Project Cadmus, it hadn't felt like rebellion. It felt... necessary.

The burning building presented an immediate moral imperative—people needed saving. Kaldur watched as Robin used his grappling gun to swing upward, while Kid Flash ran straight up the side of the building. Always showing off, those two. 

Kaldur took a more direct approach. The water from a nearby fire hydrant responded to his will, forming into a spiraling platform that carried him and the two scientists to safety. The hydrokinesis was second nature to him by now, the water an extension of his body and will.

Inside the building, things quickly became stranger. An express elevator where none should exist. A shaft descending far below the earth. Using Robin's grappling line, they made their way down, deeper into the unknown.

The discovery of the G-Trolls—massive, genetically engineered creatures—confirmed Kaldur's suspicions. Cadmus was not simply a research facility. It was something far more insidious.

"Damn..." Kid Flash whispered. "This is how they hide this massive underground facility from the world. The real Cadmus isn't on the grid! It generates its own power with these... things."

Kaldur felt a chill run through him at the sight of the creatures suspended in the energy core. Such exploitation of living beings went against everything he had been taught in Atlantis about the sanctity of life.

When Guardian confronted them, Kaldur had hoped for an ally—the man was a hero, after all. But the small creature on his shoulder, the G-Gnome, changed everything. Kaldur saw the shift in Guardian's eyes, the sudden hostility.

"Take them down hard! No mercy!"

The fight was chaotic, but brief. Robin's quick thinking got them to the elevator, but the only way was down—deeper into the heart of Cadmus.

At sub-level 52, they encountered a creature calling itself Dubbilex, who seemed to be leading them somewhere specific. Their pursuit led them to a sealed door marked "Project Kr."

"Kr," Kid Flash noted. "The atomic symbol for Krypton."

Inside, they discovered something that shook Kaldur to his core—a clone of Superman. Young, perhaps sixteen in appearance, held in suspended animation.

He had stared into that pod, trying to imagine what kind of life stirred behind those still eyelids. Was he dreaming? Listening? Or just waiting?

"This is wrong," Kid Flash muttered, voicing the thought all three of them shared.

Robin nodded. "We can't leave him like this."

Kaldur stood still. Thinking. Measuring. Not out of hesitation—but duty. Compassion was not impulse. It was choice.

"Set him free," he said quietly, then turned to Robin. "Do it."

Robin worked quickly, his fingers dancing across the holographic interface. The pod opened with a hiss of escaping air, and Kaldur noticed with concern that the horns of the G-Gnomes within the pod were glowing red, hissing softly.

For a moment, nothing moved.

The clone's hand clenched into a fist.

Its eyes snapped open—piercing blue, just like Superman's—but filled with an empty rage that the Man of Steel would never show.

Kaldur raised his eyebrows in silent question, a hand moving instinctively toward his water-bearers. But before he could draw them, the clone launched himself forward with terrifying speed.

The impact drove Kaldur backward, knocking the wind from his lungs as they crashed to the floor. 

They tumbled hard—once, twice—the weight and momentum of the Kryptonian dragging them across the metal floor like driftwood caught in a storm current.

Then the clone was on top of him. Pinning him.

The first punch landed square against his jaw—bone-jarring. The second found his cheekbone. The third struck just under his left eye, where the skin split and bloomed with heat.

Aqualad brought up his arms to guard, but Superboy's strength felt like a collapsing tunnel. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think past the blunt, mechanical precision of each strike.

Then Kid Flash was there, gripping one of the clone's arms, digging in with every ounce of speed-strength he had. "Whoa! Hang on, Supey!"

Robin, smaller but just as determined, had the other arm. "We're on your side!"

For a moment, it worked. The momentum stalled.

But only for a moment.

With a sudden wrench, Superboy tore his arm free from Wally's grip and drove a tight uppercut beneath the speedster's jaw. Kaldur saw Kid Flash lift off the ground, then crash backward through a reinforced display cylinder—glass and tech bursting apart in a storm of static and sparks.

He landed hard, and remained still.

Kaldur winced. 

That blow could have shattered his spine.

Robin was already reacting, arm latching tighter around the clone's neck, the other reaching instinctively for his belt.

"I don't want to do this," the boy muttered. He didn't wait for an answer—just jabbed the smoke canister into the clone's clavicle and let it loose. Gas hissed violently, engulfing the boy's face in a thick plume.

Finally, Superboy stumbled—half coughing, half disoriented.

That was all the opening Aqualad needed.

He twisted beneath him, kicked upward with a sharp sidekick. His heel drove deep into the clone's abdomen, slamming him back into the main console. Glass cracked. The clone dropped to the floor before the remains of his pod.

Robin didn't hesitate. He followed the momentum, pulling out a high-voltage taser with practiced speed. He jammed it into the clone's chest.

Crack—the current surged. A stream of raw electricity lanced into the Kryptonian's body.

But the clone didn't scream. He didn't flinch.

He grabbed the wires. Yanked them.

Robin barely had time to react as the clone hauled him in like a child pulling a toy closer. His hand locked around the front of the boy's cape, twisted it like a leash, then slammed him into the ground.

The wind left Robin's lungs in a strangled wheeze.

Then Superboy stepped forward.

And placed his foot—slowly, deliberately—on the Boy Wonder's chest.

Kaldur didn't stand and watch, he moved.

The WaterBearers hissed to life in his hands, lines of Atlantean script flaring as water crystallized into shape. He pulled the currents wide and forced them into mass. 

A hammer.

"Enough!" he shouted, as the weapon swung.

Superboy turned at the voice—too late. The hammer crashed into his side with the sound of steel on bone, launching the clone off his feet and straight through the remaining pod supports. Metal groaned. Plastic split. He landed in a heap.

Kaldur dropped the construct and was beside Robin in seconds.

The younger boy was coughing, trying to sit up, one arm clutching his chest.

"You are injured," Kaldur said, helping him to his knees.

"I'm… fine—" Robin managed, then his face slackened and his body slumped backward. Out cold.

Kaldur laid him down gently.

Then came the sound—heavy, fast.

Footfalls.

He stood and turned. The clone was walking toward them again, shoulders rising and falling in shallow rage.

Kaldur raised a hand, open-palmed. The most universal signal he could give.

"We are trying to help you."

Superboy did stop. But only for a moment.

The glare didn't fade.

His fist came without warning, a blur of motion aimed at Kaldur's head.

But he was already moving—slipping sideways, redirecting his weight, then ramming his shoulder into the clone's torso and driving him hard into the wall.

The impact cracked concrete.

He tried to follow up, swinging a right cross down from above—

But Superboy caught it.

Fingers wrapped like iron around his wrist.

Then came the counter.

A solid front kick straight to his gut.

It hit like a submarine's piston. Kaldur flew back, breath stolen, armor denting under the force.

He hit the floor and rolled instinctively—absorbing the momentum, bleeding off impact, reducing the damage.

Shit

His arms trembled as he pushed himself back to his feet.

He needed a new plan.

But Robin was down. Kid Flash was somewhere behind the shattered glass.

And the clone—

—was still moving.

The panic wanted in. Clawed at the edges of his mind, whispering useless things.

He shoved it down. Focused. Thought of any opening. Any strategy that ended with them still breathing.

Then—

What?

In the span of a blink, someone was standing there.

A man—no, a boy. His age? Maybe younger.

Right between him and the clone.

Kaldur blinked again.

Where did he come from?'

There was no sound. No presence. No warning. Nothing. He hadn't heard him. Hadn't felt him. It was like he just appeared.

His back was turned to Kaldur. Grey robes. Two swords on his hips.

Is he another enemy? I can't recognize him

Even the clone had stopped. Brows furrowed. Watching.

The boy didn't flinch under the clone's glare. Didn't look afraid. He stood slack, expression unreadable. Not angry. Not fearful.

Just… empty.

Like someone who had been watching this entire time, and only now remembered to speak.

Then he did.

"Where the fuck am I?" the boy said, deadpan.

His question went unanswered as Superboy lunged.

There was a blur of motion—metal leaving a sheath, a sword raised like a shield—

—then the sound of shattering.

The blade exploded in his hands. Superboy's momentum carried through like a truck with no brakes, slamming into the boy's chest and sending him flying past Kaldur. He crashed near the wall, just short of Robin's unconscious form.

For a long second, Kaldur just stared.

The boy groaned, pushed himself up with one hand, brushing shards of sword off him.

Kaldur stepped forward, weapons humming back to life in his grip. "We seem to be allies of circumstance, stranger," he said carefully.

The boy looked up at him. His lip was bleeding. A line of red trailed from the side of his head. But he smiled.

A small, crooked, too-calm smile.

"…It appears so, doesn't it?"