The Daughter Knew Their Secrets

Diana crumpled to her knees, her sword slipping from her hand with a metallic clatter. Superman was already by her side, catching her before she hit the floor. "Diana!" he called out, but her lips refused to move. He cradled her carefully, his eyes scanning her body, then he saw it.

Black lines were threading out from the wound in her shoulder, spreading across her skin like creeping vines. His expression hardened as he looked up at Ashborn.

"What was in that pistol?"

Ashborn casually spun the weapon on his finger, unbothered. "The bullets are laced with a strong paralytic compound extracted from a unique ant. Painful, yes, but non-lethal. She won't be able to move or speak for at least a week."

"You poisoned her," Superman growled.

"I disabled her," Ashborn corrected. "Big difference. She came at me with a blade. I just responded faster and was less lethal."

He examined the pistol again, almost admiring it. "I keep this around for types like that. Too much power wrapped up in blind righteousness and delusions. She's that old and still doesn't know what her people actually do. Worse, she still thinks she was born from dirt."

J'onn stepped forward "How do you even know that? Even Wonder Woman didn't."

Ashborn shrugged. "I have my sources. What they are, and how I get them, is of no consequence to you."

Superman looked down at Diana, her face frozen in silent fury, her breath shallow but steady. Then he looked back at Ashborn. "Do you always have to provoke people into fighting you?"

Ashborn gave a lazy smirk. "No. Just the hypocrite assholes I don't like. She, and her entire island, fall under that umbrella."

Superman clenched his jaw, stood up with Diana in his arms, and pivoted toward the door, choosing to de-escalate this time. "Fine. But stop that TV show. You can't just parade our identities and slap 'parody' on it like it's harmless."

Ashborn blinked. "What TV show?"

He looked genuinely puzzled, which made Superman pause mid-stride. "You're telling me you don't know about Ultraman? It is produced by Shadow Crop"

Ashborn shook his head. "Never heard of it. I don't review or deal with anything in the entertainment sector. I do watch that stuff and I don't like spoilers"

Superman's expression darkened with something colder than anger, concern. "Then who does? Someone's using your company, and they know everything."

Ashborn had a thoughtful look on his face. "My daughter, Ace. I told her to review scripts and pilots, greenlight anything that caught her eye or suggest changes. Letting her do that should help develop common sense. How bad are we talking?"

Superman looked shaken for a moment, then began explaining the contents of the show Ultraman, the ridiculous assassination plots, the journalist alter ego, the color-reversed suit.

Ashborn actually laughed. "That script is gold. Honestly, keep it running. Satire that sharp deserves to live."

"No," Superman said firmly. "It's too accurate. It needs to be taken down or at least changed."

Ashborn sighed. "Fine. I'll have something done about it and re-iterate with Ace what to not do."

Superman hesitated. "Does Ace… know about my identity?"

Ashborn looked him in the eye. "Yes. On the day she was losing her powers, she glimpsed through my memories. She knows a significant portion of what I know."

The room fell silent.

Superman, for a moment, groaned out of sheer frustration. Dealing with Lex Luthor was easier. Lex was an out right villain. He had schemes, agendas, and crimes. You could wrap your head around him. But Ashborn? He was an enigma, annoying jerk at worst. He didn't break laws, barely put an effort, and still managed to be the most frustrating presence Superman had ever encountered.

At least with Lex, he could punch something.

Superman inhaled slowly, steadying himself. "Talk to her," he said, eyes back on Ashborn. "We need to know if she shared our identities with anyone."

Ashborn didn't even blink. "She didn't. I already had included your identities in the do-not-share list."

Superman raised an eyebrow. "And the TV show?"

Ashborn gave a half-shrug. "That's why I want to teach her common sense. She probably thought 'parody' meant it was okay. Honestly, from my perspective, it's a clever cover. The satire is so over-the-top that most people will dismiss any similarities as coincidence or mockery. It works in your favor."

Superman paused. He hated to admit it, but Ashborn had a point. Still…

"You still need to change it," he said. "It's too much of a risk."

Ashborn gave a single nod. "Alright."

Superman adjusted Diana gently in his arms, her stillness making the gesture feel heavier than it should have. He turned to go, but Ashborn reached over and pressed a button on his desk. The windows behind him slid open with a low mechanical hiss.

The heroes stared.

Ashborn gave a dry look. "We all know you want to fly out the window. Just get it over with."

None of them replied. One by one, they floated through the open window in silence. Kara was the last to step through. She lingered for a moment, then turned to face him.

"Thanks," she said simply.

Ashborn blinked. He had just been thanked, for hiding the most important details from them. Strange. But he didn't dwell on it. He closed the window and returned to his desk, sipping the last of his coffee as if nothing had happened.

___________

High above the city, the heroes flew through open skies, carrying more questions than answers.

"At least now we know," Kara said, her voice distant. "I was cloned. It's real."

Superman exhaled. "If only Ashborn was more cooperative. I just don't get him. Why can't he be… normal?"

He looked over to Martian Manhunter flying alongside him. "J'onn… did you try reading his thoughts?"

J'onn nodded. "I did. But during the entire conversation, all he was thinking about was mundane things, where to eat for lunch, dinner plans, recalling restaurants by name, menu and location. His mind is trained to deflect surface readings."

Superman frowned. "And he has a gun that can incapacitate Diana. Kryptonite missiles. Random strange daggers. Who knows what else he's stashing in that office. I really want to know where he gets those things from."

Kara looked ahead, her voice quiet. "I've seen that pistol before. He said it came from the same source as the potion that cured Mr. Freeze and his wife."

Superman turned to her.

She continued, "You know the daggers, a souvenir from the Joker, or at least some of them. The new missile? definitely Gizmo's upgrade. In my clone's dream, he told her she was in danger because she was with him. I think he was right. But the danger wasn't just to her, it's to everyone. He's quite capable and has some weird things in store. I think he's just dying for a chance to test them on someone legally, and in his eyes, you're all the perfect volunteers"

The group was quiet for a moment.

Then Superman let out a long breath. "Let's go back to the Watchtower. Hopefully we can analyze that poison and find a way to purge it."

Their eyes fell once more on Diana, silent, unmoving, her body barely breathing. Her eyes darted from one to another, alert and aware. If not for those eyes, she could have been mistaken for dead.

___________

In the evening, Ashborn made his way to Ace's room. Inside, Ace sat at her desk, pencil in hand, diligently working through her homework, her expression was serene. When she looked up at him, her lips curved into a gentle, natural smile. It was a marked change from the days when even the concept of smiling had seemed foreign to her.

Only her eyes betrayed her, wide, focused, unblinking. As always.

"How's school life treating you?" Ashborn asked casually as he stepped inside.

Ace set her pencil down and looked up fully, her smile remaining. "It's okay. We are …."

Ashborn sat on the edge of her bed, listening quietly as she spoke about her day, her teachers, a funny incident during lunch. Occasionally, he made a comment, asking a question here and there. He didn't rush her. He never did.

When she finally finished, he tilted his head thoughtfully. "That's good. Sounds like you're adapting."

She nodded.

Then he added, "Some of the caped tribe came by today. Superman, Wonder Woman, and some others."

Ace blinked once. "Were they mad at you?"

Ashborn gave a small shrug. "They wanted the Ultraman show canceled or changed."

Ace tilted her head, puzzled. "Was it bad? I made it look like Superman."

Ashborn chuckled, leaning back a little. "In the contrary, it was very impressive. That's the problem. It's too close. You nailed it too well. They're scared it'll expose him."

Ace looked confused. "But… it's just a TV show."

Ashborn nodded slowly. "Yes, but they're afraid it'll make people dig. Look for similarities. Ask why a hero reporter from a fictional show matches a real one. That kind of thing."

Ace looked thoughtful, then nodded. "So… keep shows different?"

"Exactly," Ashborn said. "Let's steer them away from real hero lives. Keep it fun, silly, exaggerated. A little distance can be the best protection."

She nodded again, returning to her homework without another word. Ashborn watched her for a moment, her pencil scratching against the paper, and then quietly stood up.

"Goodnight, Ace."

"Goodnight," she said, not looking up, but the tone was warm.