A simplified two-hand clock watched Luthor’s office, perched above its doors. Though it had no words, nor a soul with which to protest, it knew its employ ran antithetically to the virtues of its design. Patience. Clarity. Generous apathy. None of these traits existed within its purpose here, in this room. It held no sway in the matter. It was merely an observer.

And so it observed – just as the longer arm drew near to the top-most hour line – as the doors below gave way to the entry of the final apprentice: Alice B. Cohen. She walked with fervor into the sun-lit office. As if fleeing from the clutches of her assignment. Her posture did its best to downplay the present anxiety as tardiness avoidance. Her attire stood out as well. It was neat. Too neat. Where once a strategic looseness had been present in her blue dress shirt, there now existed a defensive formality. Top button now done, loose ribbon tie tightened, and hem fully tucked into her black pencil skirt contrary to its initial state.

Alice was clearly beside herself, much as she tried to bury these frustrations. Her forehead kept a particular tension as she made her way to the space between her seated peers. A tension felt more than seen. Her lips were straightened with deep restraint. Her head hung just an inch or so lower than before, but one could tell her center was off. A single hair drifted down from her left-swooping bangs, already exhausted from the first day of her ordeal. A hand quickly put it back in place, lest others notice. It was a futile effort, but none seemed to care - which was worse. She made no attempt to seat herself, though her stare towards her peers’ chairs was evident.

Esteban slouched his back into one of the sofa chairs, taking slow and expansive breaths. Though he held a faint smile, the exhaustion of his department’s pace was evident. Slow workers would be left behind. The sweating teen knew well that this would be learned the hard way.

Ms. Graves retained her usual demeanor. She stood attentively to Mr. Luthor’s left, half behind the corner of the desk. As ever, the woman looked like a trained soldier more than an office assistant or personal driver. Arms held tensely behind her, and piercing eyes watching the last junior enter the room carefully. Just in case.

Wayne hadn’t even looked up from the paperwork in his hands. He thumbed through it page by page, checking and double checking each signature space to ensure a job well done. Having noticed that a few remained blank, he leaned forward in his chair, placing the papers onto the smaller table for stability. His left hand worked quickly to repeat their movements, moving from line to line until the last blank was filled. He inspected his work one last time, then plopped the stack onto Mr. Luthor’s desk with little concern - nearly dropping it over the stack the CEO himself had been finishing.

Mr. Luthor resisted his strong desire to grimace at this disrespect, aiming a deathly stare towards the boy. Closing his eyes, he pinched his nasion with his off hand and gently rubbed it in small circles. He had to let this go. He’d never survive the program if he let this get to him. At least the other children seemed to behave, although the man knew it was too soon to be making such a judgement.

“O—kay”, murmured Mr. Luthor as he released his nose and looked around the room to each of his proteges. He glanced at the time before continuing. The clock replied: three fifty-eight.

“Glad to see that punctuality is something you all respect. Let’s get straight to it: how did things go? We can start with whomever.”

Esteban, being so gregarious, popped his head up from the chair’s plush divot. His eagerness to respond belied his misunderstanding. “It was hard, but like… Good, too. Mrs. Jenkins was super understanding, and—”

Mr. Luthor waved his hand, now aware of the mistake in his own verbiage. Esteban’s eyelids fluttered as he was cut off. A twitch ran through one raised corner of his lips. The boy wasn’t sure what he had said wrong. Was he too casual? Too vague? Should he have sat up straight?

He looked to the others for some sort of hint. Alice covered her face with a hand, torn between amusement and frustration. She didn’t want either reaction to be seen, but the faintest of breaths escaped her lips, carrying with it a word: “Trog.” The insult’s target was none the wiser to it.

Wayne hadn’t really been paying attention, and was thus unaware as to what error had been made. He had, interestingly, turned towards Esteban with an unfettered gaze. What message this look carried was for only him to know. There was no help here. Esteban could only straighten himself and prepare for reprimand.

“What I meant”, Mr. Luthor revised with eyes closed once more. “–was ‘What tasks did you accomplish today’, not to waste time on mawkish drivel. This is a business, first and foremost. You’d do well to learn that pleasantry is a tool and little else, young Estévés.”

Esteban shrank into himself, but nodded like a scolded child. These words etched themselves deep within some chamber of his heart. Alice had managed to return her expression to a neutral and echoed the nod dutifully.

Wayne resumed watching the way the city was bathed in a slowly warming hue, unconcerned by the hypocrisy of the man’s unwanted advice. He wondered if Lex would still sing that tune if he hadn’t lost his best shot at romance - the illustrious fashion icon, Lana Lang - to his mortal enemy last November. Would he be worse if she had succeeded in bagging the man of steel?

Luthor could tell that, at the very least, the two teens that mattered had gotten the message. There was an irony to this frustration he felt; The child most likely to be trouble for him was also the one he had to do the least work on.

Alice was a close second, as it was clear that she had been reared well by her family - whom Luthor had been subtly acquainted with already, thanks to their financial contributions to one of his non-profits. He knew she had it in her to survive the upward climb of corporate warfare. Lex could see the inferno lurking deep within her eyes. That determination to upend what slights she faced. Yes, Alice held the most promise of success, in his expert opinion. Perhaps a useful pawn in his empirical machinations, should Ms. Graves ever run into insurmountable troubles. A thought to keep in his sleeve.

Meanwhile, Esteban was a “good kid” from all visible angles. Luthor granted him that much. But “good kids” tended to hit stop gates in this world, and quickly. Maybe he could make a loyal manager out of the boy. Maybe. But he doubted he’d make it much further with his present softness. A pity. The optics on Estévés were phenomenal. Not too rich, not too poor. Neither a genius, nor a total imbecile from a STEM perspective. Infinitely more tolerable than Wayne–

These thoughts were eating into his time, now.

Mr. Luthor cleared his throat, to reset his thoughts and the mood in the room. With his clarification made, he resumed the inquiry to each of his understudies. Esteban amended his answer, stating that business had fared well. He lacked the understanding to define the work that transpired clearly, but Luthor read between the lines; More supply chains had been secured, and several sponsorship dealings were still in consideration. Roughly what was expected. They moved on.

Alice was eager to present her report, though not from any feelings of pride. Rather, her thorough explanation made it clear that human resources were less than ideal. Nothing overt, but the repeated mentions of delay due to her supervisor were concerning. It wasn’t as though quick work was expected of the division. However, the vague inserts drew much of the attention: “Mr. Mallory was socializing”, “Mr. Mallory was busy with an intern”, “Mr. Mallory was focused on dress code”, and so on. It was subtle, but the message was blaring. Luthor scribbled a note to himself to have a talk with the HR director later.

Then came Wayne’s turn. Luthor realized that he had, in his urgency to extract information, overlooked formulation of a cover story. A jolt of dread ran through him as all eyes turned to the unorthodox boy. Wayne remained silent for a painful few ticks. When he finally developed his answer, it was far better than hoped. In fact, a bit too good. References to an undisclosed Cadmus partnership, accurate mentions of on-going projects by codename, and even a false logistics recount that felt too aware to question. Luthor’s face grew a faint displeasure at how, once again, it seemed like he was being played for a fool. By a child he had been supervising the entire time, no less. The man ran a hand across his own scalp, wiping off the minuscule droplets that had formed as he listened. Checking for information leaks might need to move up the list of priorities.

Regardless, the answer sufficed, and Luthor responded approvingly of their delineations. He thanked the three for their efforts, and decided to allow them the day off. There was little planned for them to accompany him on, and he wanted time to himself after all of the day’s surprises. Alice wasn’t thrilled given the promise of observing bigger dealings, but Wayne and Esteban were more than accepting of the freetime.

Once dismissed, another opportunity was made glaringly apparent. That was the chance to bond over food and drink, just like the professionals that surrounded the trio as they departed from LexCorp’s glassy front exterior. Esteban was particularly invested in the idea, despite the ever present apathy exuding from his peers.

“You two wanna’ grab a victory meal?” he asked with a wide, heartfelt grin. The dissociative side-eying that immediately met him was no deterrent as Esteban made the first suggestion. “There’s this cool little coffee place five blocks north. Not too far from the station, either! It’s like… Rudy’s, or Radd’s, or—”

“Radu’s?” Wayne corrected.

“Yeah! That was it! Great place. A little grimy, but no worse than—”

“I’m not drinking coffee at 5 in the evening”, interrupted Alice, her already melted patience beginning to burn away further.

“Agreed. If we’re gonna get food together, let’s get actual food”, Wayne followed up.

Alice reacted with surprised disapproval. The insistence of Wayne’s stomach, who decided at that moment to make itself known, was an effective enforcer of social dogma. The girl relented with a heavy sigh.

“Fine… Just nowhere filthy. We have images to keep up now.”

Alice was right, of course. Esteban had assumed that the showmanship stopped when the camera flashes did, but now that he thought of it, paparazzi were liable to appear anywhere. The weight of that ghostly pressure etched into the back-most edge of his mind. He was grateful to focus back onto hunger satiation, which Wayne was more than happy to provide.

“Plenty of sports bars and restaurants that are nice near here, if we head southeast. Two blocks, max, I think”, Wayne suggested, placing a hand on his gut to shush its incessant grumbling.

“Not too pricey, are they?” Esteban asked with a miserly wince.

Alice rolled her eyes. “If we’re doing this, let’s just go and be done with it, please?”

“I’ll spot you if it’s too much, pal”, Wayne offered as he began to take the lead.

Esteban smiled eagerly, nodding with satisfaction. “Cool, cool- I’ll owe you one, man!”

With the certainty of minimal financial commitment secured, Esteban happily followed behind Wayne. Alice managed to contain her immense displeasure, but begrudgingly tagged along.

Within about twenty minutes, the three had decided on a location and were promptly seated. A place called only “The Zoot”. Its naming sense befit its clientele, as it was occupied almost entirely by suit-clad corporate workers, as far as any of them could tell. It very much looked the part, too: full glass exterior, plenty of stainless steel furnishings, and enough black and grey to put a funeral to shame. Wayne kind of liked it. Alice was, at minimum, placated by its visual professionalism. Esteban couldn’t care less, so long as the food was good.

When it came time to place orders, only Alice had her mind made up at the first inquiry. It took another two check-ins by the waiter before the boys had settled on something. The girl requested a premium fattoush salad with grilled chicken and added blueberries. The cheapest order of the three, but it also had the nicest presentation. Wayne, having never heard of fattoush before, reconsidered his own order of chicken fajitas for a moment. At least the larger order would serve to quell his growing hunger better. Esteban, meanwhile, took it upon himself to order something simple: the prime rib. Wayne made a point to slide his parsimonious peer a ten-dollar bill, to silently indicate that this would be all the financial assistance he was willing to provide for such an economical choice. The smile he received in trade raised questions towards the other boy’s deeper character.

They ate with very little dialogue between them for the first few minutes. Esteban would then shoot off a random ice-breaker to try to liven things: “what was your division like”, “what’s your home life like”, “what’re your end goals”, and the like. He would, to add more insistence, provide his own answer first. Alice figured he just wanted to finish up his explanation from earlier. She was at least partially right.

However, Esteban was more than happy to talk about his stringent middle-class household as well. He was the middle child of three, but his older brother’s trouble making resulted in his parents resting their hopes with him. Ultimately, his plans were to get in with a big company like LexCorp after highschool, and ride that wave of financial security for both himself and the rest of his family - with the elder sibling’s inclusion still being considered.

Alice, to little surprise, hailed from a well-to-do family of some financial repute. She was the youngest sibling of two by six years, but was well aware of the favoritism shown to her sister. Though she never said so, the expression Alice made when discussing the dynamics of her kin spoke volumes; success was her means of taking revenge for years of neglect. Her future plans involved finding financial prosperity and leaving her familial ties as far behind her as a plane ticket could take her. The current goal aimed at Pacific City, but Alice was aware that plans change with time. She made a point not to discuss much about the goings-on within HR, but alluded to things needing a “drastic power shift”.

True to form, Wayne didn’t offer up too much information. He was an only child. He lived with his middle-class father after his parents divorced. Esteban threw some light sympathy towards an imagined home life of hardship. Stating that he had signed a non-disclosure agreement, Wayne only said that he was looking forward to the future of his assignment. Much as she wanted to, Alice couldn’t argue with this defense. As for future goals, Wayne merely smirked, and said he would enjoy his time at LexCorp. He’d ride out whatever happened next. His peers weren’t very receptive to this dismissal, but it was clear that prying would prove pointless. Wayne would let them know what he wanted them to know. Nothing more.

It was shortly after this that one of the distant televisions caught Wayne’s attention. The muted display of channel two news was running a headline of particular interest: “Mobsters to Punks: Intergang’s New Face”. It was an unusual story for Angela Chen to be covering compared to the usual Mr. Troupe, given her rank as the station’s gossip columnist. Regardless of who was delivering the information, what mattered was the footage. An all too familiar scene unfolded: Superman interfering with an electronics heist from two teens clad in black and blue jumpsuits, riding on high-tech disks, and shooting off fire and ice beams.

This sudden focal lock was not unnoticed. Alice, being ever watchful, followed Wayne’s eyes to the screen. She took in the same sights, the same text. Then she looked back to her self-assigned rival. His face was as flat as ever, but the feeling behind this look was not. The usual air of smug passivity had been replaced with intensity. A cold calculation whose ends could only be guessed at.

What could he be thinking, Alice pondered with equal fixation. What could he be planning?

Esteban took notice as well, though only as he looked up from his food to begin another aimless question. He, too, trained his eyes to the same television across the room. He could feel the growing tension. The psychic pressure traced shivers along his skin, and a tremor through that cold corner in his heart. He hated whatever this was. Break the silence. Break these glaciers.

“So crazy how active those Intergang guys are”, the extroverted boy remarked with feigned interest. Esteban paused just a moment to stuff another slice of meat into his mouth and chew, but he picked the commentary right back up given the lack of response. “Like, I remember they used to be an old school mob and stuff. Wild how kids like us are getting wrapped up in that kinda’ thing, now!”

“The desperate do what they must, I suppose”, Alice stated with little extra thought. Esteban was shocked by her apparent lack of sympathy, but Wayne interpretted the statement differently.

“No rest for the weary, as they say”, added Wayne dryly. “Those most in need of justice are often the first to turn away from it. Although I guess that would bring said justice into question, wouldn’t it? Not that I care much.”

“Oh?” Alice adjusted. “Finally catching a glimpse of the person beneath all that indifference? Color me surprised; I figured you coasted through your life with an empty head.”

The smirk returned with a silver flicker in the eyes.

“Don’t get me wrong, princess; I do coast. But I do so because my head is chock full of thoughts - not the other way around. Living easy comes from knowing—”

A buzzing from Wayne’s pocket cut his words short. Fishing the source of the vibration out, the boy scrutinized his phone’s screen intently. There were a few button presses as he sat in silence. Then his face flattened. Quickly. Alice and Esteban watched intently, pondering what might have instigated the shift. Though they knew very little, both had taken notice of the know-it-all’s rather sluggish mannerisms. Something must have happened.

As if to confirm their unspoken conjecture, Wayne stuffed the phone back from whence it came and left the table. Alice and Esteban expected him to go make a call, but were startled further as he began to speak with one of the waitstaff. A bill was handed to him, which he slapped some cash to without a word. Before the employee or the duo could process the event, Wayne had already bolted out the door.

Neither teen knew how to react. The change was too sudden. There were too many unknowns. The waiter coming to confirm the fully covered meal solidified the absurdity of the act. Esteban looked at Alice. Alice looked back at Esteban. She was the first to speak, containing herself to a whisper.

“The heck was that about?” There was personal insult in her tone.

“How should we know? Maybe a sick relative? Strict parents and a curfew?”

“You really think that guy would care about a curfew? Might be onto something with the sick family, though…”

The copious background chatter displaced their thinking hush. Esteban was just beginning to pity the imaginary hospital visit forming in his mind’s eye, but Alice’s contemplations constructed a much more devious idea.

“Hey”, she cooed, leaning in towards her remaining peer with a sly smile. She ran a hand through her hair while the load-bearing arm tucked its hand under her chin. She flashed glances towards the shrinking silhouette of the fleeing teen, so as not to lose sight of her target. “How about we find out for ourselves? I’d love to finally find an angle on that kid, and I bet you’d benefit too~”

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Esteban looked to the girl with confusion while stuffing his face once again. Sure, he would enjoy knowing more about his peer for a variety of reasons. But knowing people served a variety of ends, none of which seemed important to secure between himself and the other boy. One didn’t force a cat to love you, and he viewed Wayne similarly.

Alice could see that pure intrigue wouldn’t be enough of a selling point. A better incentive was required, but what? A bribe, perhaps? Given prior stinginess, that seemed plausible. “Think of it this way: Wayne is clearly… Closer to Mr. Luthor than the both of us already, right?”

Esteban nodded, still mid-mastication.

“Right… So I was there when he got his interview. He was talking with some girl and let slip that he’d gotten a job at Lexcorp. A job. Not an internship. But then he was announced as an intern alongside us. Wouldn’t you agree that that’s weird?”

A heavy swallow preceded new considerations. Esteban was starting to see Alice’s point; Wayne clearly had some sort of in that they didn’t, although he still didn’t see how that was his problem.

“So, like… What if he’s already guaranteed to work there after the program’s done? What if you and I are just wasting our time with this? Doesn’t that bother you?” It certainly bothered Alice.

“Damn”, Esteban finally said. “That’d be some major bullshit… But I still don’t get—”

“How that relates to this?” Alice cut off with a sneer mimicking Wayne’s. “I’m glad you asked, my bulky compatriot.”

Alice, intending to emphasize the secrecy of her assertion, leaned herself even closer towards Esteban. The shortened distance spurred a reaction that rattled the boy’s simulation to pieces. Esteban was suddenly very conscious of the girl beside him. Of the meticulousness of her eyeliner. Of the faint chasteberry-balsam scent she wore. A siren blared from somewhere deep within his awareness. He knew this was a ploy. There was no way it wasn’t. Hormones, however, gulped down these warnings to humor a tantalizing what-if.

With a sinister airiness, Alice posited, “If Wayne, there, has some dirt to dig up, we can use that to secure our own positions. Our futures would be just as secure as he claims his is~”

“Well… It would be nice to guarantee some green”, Esteban assuaged with thoughtful tone. Certainly, this was a solid deal. But his stirring blood slipped an extra idea into his head. He mulled it over while side-eyeing the same-age girl beside him. He thought he could see something in her body language. In the way her half-lidded gaze traced his face. He couldn’t have been more wrong, but his self-interest superseded that risk. “Tell you what, shorty; I’ll go along with this, yeah. But I want a little extra… Motivation, you feel?”

Alice tilted back in a fluster of blinks. She grieved at her mistaken faith, asking for an answer she dreaded already knowing. “… And what might that be….?”

Esteban smoothed back his already gelled-flat hair. His expression twisted into what he imagined was the embodiment of masculine charm: lightly puckered lips, half-cocked brows, and an upward tilt of the chin. A textbook smolder. “I do this for you, ‘n’ you offer up a little of your time this weekend, ‘ay?”

A large knot impounded Alice’s stomach. She felt sick from just the thought, especially after the workday she’d just suffered. But, this would guarantee this troglodyte’s cooperation, right? She held the power in this deal, as sickened as she was by it.

“And as a bonus”, added Esteban with a showy flex of one arm, sensing the fairer sex’s trepidation. “I’ll even provide some extra muscle, as needed. Not that I think we’ll need it for that dude.”

Esteban caught the click of the girl’s tongue as she thought for a moment. “Fine, whatever… But one date is all. One. I pick the place, the time, and you will pay for the entire affair….”

With a satisfied nod, Esteban agreed. Alice turned to place her forehead against a table-braced hand, growing sicker the longer she had to look at the boy’s displeasing expression. The bargain was struck – an oath that would seal their fates.

The two proceeded with the plan: follow Wayne to wherever and whatever secret he was en route to. They left the restaurant in the same direction as their quarry. Alice, eyes aflame with ambitious zeal, took long and rapid strides. The black half-inch heels of her navy shoes clacked with the fervor of every step. It was necessary, Alice believed, to put her all into this and think of any consequences later. Especially now that there was a confirmable price to be paid. But nothing would stand between her, and the sweet satisfaction of acquiring the advantage she sought. Even at the cost of a little pride, if it meant a bigger return later.

Esteban, matching pace with his soon-to-be prize, was the very image of overconfidence. Head held high, he strut with the full gait of his build. The arms of his blazer constricted around the bulbous outline within as they swung back, loosening into concealing straightness as each arm was brought forward. His steps carried less noise thanks to his rubber soles, but the boy’s bulk still crunched the thin layers of dirt beneath his heels. While his steps were slower, his stretching stride was plenty. The promise to let him shoot his shot – the limits of which had not been fully expressed in the agreement, to his personal contentment – was all he really needed. Wayne could keep his secrets, for all Esteban cared. He would prove the better man in the end. That was enough.

They rounded the first corner. Wayne’s faint shape was slipping past the edge of another building. Both Alice and Esteban had no trouble recognizing his distinctive silhouette. It helped that he was a slightly lighter shade of distant grey, as well.

The two were rushing now. Wayne had gotten a solid headstart on them, to be certain, but the surprise of his pace was a stark contrast to his prior leisure. Power walking wasn’t going to cut it. Alice broke into a jog. Esteban matched her speed with a startled gripe.

Wayne was even further along by the next turn. Far, far down the road. His shoulders were starting to reach the horizon of the hill before them. The tailing duo couldn’t hope to keep up. Esteban wasted no time fighting this epiphany. With his well-manicured athleticism, he knew something about this was wrong.

“Damn! Huff… Huff…. Didn’t think… The guy was so quick! We– Hoo, man! We definitely won’t catch him… Like this….”

Alice soldiered on. The distance between her and Esteban was steadily increasing, yet so was the gap for the target. She couldn’t relent. Wouldn’t. But her newfound lackey was, without a doubt, correct. The redhead hated that. She needed another option. Another method of tailing him. Anything.

They reached the hilltop. Trembling legs halted. Lungs filled to their limits before cycling out half of each intake batch. Esteban hunched forwards, bracing his arms upon his knees. He winced hard while hanging his head. Alice slouched against the brick wall to their side, keeping it at a distance with an unsteady hand. Even through this exhaustion, she remained firm to the task of keeping line of sight. Except…

“Shit”, the girl exclaimed between panting. “Lost him… Huff… How- Haah… How the fuck is he so… So fucking fast? It doesn’t make sense! Capes are, sure, but that kid is no cape!”

Esteban’s lifted head squinted through beads of sweat to scan the bottom of the hill, ignoring the sudden geyser of expletives erupting from the other pursuer. Eyes listed to and fro. Landmarks were recognized. Decrepit buildings wilted in their own dust just a few blocks further. Warehouses resided further still. Street junctures were estimated. The glistening, golden waters on the horizon whispered their clues.

“The bay”, the boy concluded. “It’s gotta’ be the bay! He’s probably heading for the pier!”

The blue suited girl snapped her head towards the brown-clad boy as his suggestion ran through her own calculations. In the quiet of thought, the vortex of emotions settled into a methodical swirl. Alice still had doubts. There were plenty of streets that could be turned down. Maybe Wayne had noticed them and was giving them the slip? Maybe he was destined for some unassuming building one would only notice if they knew to look for it?

“You sure it’s the pier? Is there… Anything else this direction that he might–”

“Anything else!?” Esteban was taken aback at the ignorance her suggestion held. “Do you really not know? It’s Suicide Slums past those next, like, two blocks! Unless the dude lives down here, there ain’t nada! Maybe a warehouse? But those are all at the bay, too.”

A warehouse was a better guess than nothing. Through her own reconnaissance - publicly sourced, of course - Alice was well aware of the general residency of both fellow apprentices. She had looked them up during her lunch break earlier today, in fact. She was born and raised on St. Martin’s Island within the northern half of the bay, while Esteban was a resident of Bakerline. She could thereby hold some awareness of the middle-class standard the latter was reared by, though the realities of such might as well be destitution compared to her own upbringing.

Wayne, even in this way, remained anomalous to her information scrounging. That boy lived closer to Gotham than Metropolis. Not even in the same state, but their boorish neighbor, New Jersey. Alice had tried to place what “Verdant Acres” could mean towards class hierarchy, but the place was such a mixed bag that it remained inconclusive. It was flummoxing how poor apartments could remain so close to suburban McMansions. What must their security be like to take such risks?

So yes: it must be the warehouses! A brilliant deduction, and proof of having found good help right away. Alice could now see a path to extracting Esteban’s true value under her benevolent instruction. Maybe she could use his single-layered affections to greater benefit? Dangle a few more dates over his nose if he did well enough. Nothing permanent, to be sure.

“Well!?” the girl accosted, having caught her own breath with little regard to her companion’s own physical state. “If you’ve figured it out, why are we wasting time? We’ll miss whatever he’s up to at this rate!”

With this addressal, Alice resumed her march towards the docks far in the distance.

“Catch up when your lungs are done screaming. You’re supposed to be my muscle, remember?”

Esteban only needed a moment more. He had already lost considerable distance to his charge, having to now rush himself to reach her. Deep breaths powered him forwards. Long strides closed the gap before shrinking to match Alice’s slightly shorter steps.

The two passed many old brick structures. Storefronts and alleys gave refuge to various residents. Most were too preoccupied by their own dealings to notice the teens. A rare few watched them pass, but decided to let the perceived trespassers carry on - for the moment. Musty ruins of former apartments paid the two no heed, nor did the whistling pipes of a long collapsed hospital. The feeling was mutual.

◅◁◇▷▻

Time came, went, and left behind the path traveled. A swishing, foamy sound from the east welcomed them. Gulls sang offkey overhead as they rode the currents of summer air. The amassed heat of the day twisted the light for every inch of concrete. What little shade existed was provided by the rows of large warehouses, whose rusted roofs carried few sounds of the working day within them at this hour.

Alice and Esteban, by this point, were exhausted. The intensity of the day’s temperature combined with the ever-churning mist of sea water to create a thick zone of humid duress.

Both teens were dripping with sweat. Alice was particularly ill-suited to these environs, mumbling curses and whinging inaudibly as they continued to skulk between buildings.

Esteban, taking to the climate only slightly better, had taken point on vigilance. There was nothing of note to really see, but as the pair trudged on, he was first in noticing an auditory disturbance.

Shouting. Distant and panicked. Growing closer. Louder. Young voices, possibly other teens. Stomping feet. A stampede of fear.

“Alice”, Esteban alerted. The girl in question stifled her grievances, perking up as the information processed.

“Sounds bad”, she said, eyes sharpening for potential survival needs. “He better not have run off already.”

“He probably wouldn’t be here much longer anyways. Look.”

A beefy index finger was aimed towards a single warehouse door. Dozens of kids could be faintly seen. They were scrambling over one another to escape the building. More interestingly, they all seemed to be in the same uniforms as Intergang members. Alice squinted, wondering if the span between was distorting her sight. Then they got closer. Closer. Running straight for them. Running straight past them.

“Intergang!?” Esteban exclaimed, several of the accused bumping into and pushing past him. “Ain’t no way he works for Intergang!”

Alice, who was presently hiding from the mob behind her companion, couldn’t agree more. “If we spot that blowhard trog, we are never letting him live this down! Agreed?”

A fleeing grunt thoughtlessly stomped upon Alice’s foot in their flight. A loud yelp was succeeded by a flurry of pain-fueled insults. Mostly classist remarks about how her heels cost more than their entire household. Esteban’s focus switched to consoling the girl, so as not to provoke the mob from turning on them amidst the chaos.

As the last few stragglers clamored away, the major players revealed themselves. From the same evacuated building as the Intergang members, the floored steel of the warehouse garage was torn through like ripping paper. The high-pitched groans of metal flooded the briny air. There was muffled speech, then two final pairs of rushed footsteps.

The first was a pasty-skinned older boy. He looked rather pink, emphasized by the brilliant redness of his short mullet. The brown jacket he wore was battered with aged wrinkles and recent scuffs. He’d clearly been in a fight, and it was easy to imagine who his adversaries must have been. He took the lead as these last individuals exited the building.

Low and behold, Wayne was the person immediately behind. Nothing seemed off about his own attire - not his jacket, nor his spacious pants were shifted out of place. Whatever had happened to the first boy, Wayne had not experienced himself. He outran the other teen quickly, but slowed to match pace with him after taking a small lead.

Most shocking of all was the last escapee. A girl with bright blonde hair, only marked by a jet black hairband. She was paler than Wayne by leagues, but still not as porcelain skinned as the other boy. Her crop top was white with the ever-recognizable super S in red across her chest. The same red as her boots and cape, contrasting the blue of her skirt. If the cape wasn’t odd enough, the girl's hands were held within clean, white gloves as well.

But strangest of all: She was flying. Alice and Esteban almost missed Wayne’s presence from the surprise of this new heroine. Given the familiar sigil, they assumed her to be one. But why was she here? Why was Wayne here? Why were they the last to flee-

“Jimmy! Smart-aleck! Keep going in case it blows”, the supergirl belted out towards the two boys, hovering in place. What followed made the surrounding distress much clearer for the two late arrivals. “I’ll try to get that bomb outta’ here!”

There was little to debate or deliberate. Alice and Esteban were quick on the uptake, both bolting in the same direction as Wayne and company. Alice was in many ways shocked to notice the girl fly back into the warehouse, but took no time to dwell on the thought. Supers are good for that sort of thing, after all. No need to worry for the evidently alien protector—

Brrra-Ka-BOOM

A thought too soon. A flash of light and wall of air collided with the four teens’ backs, sweeping them off their feet. Jimmy and Esteban were the least braced, falling forwards onto their own backs. Alice had the intuition to shift with the force, tucking her legs in and leaning back to bounce concrete-against-rear about two feet. Wayne had mistimed the blast, but trusted his gut to fall back into the force from behind. He slid on his feet - one heeled and one toed - only to stumble a bit on the landing, nearly losing his balance and narrowly avoiding falling onto his face.

The four promptly turned towards the destruction. Stone and steel crumbled into the sea where the warehouse once stood. Glaring red and orange blotted out the sun and stifled the sky with plumes of ash. The blast was less than expected, but this part of the pier was undeniably obliterated.

A sound from the sky. Something falling. Jimmy, Wayne, and Alice looked up. Esteban was too entranced and horrified by the flames. Something had broken through the tower of smoke. Headed for them. Something about their size. Something yellow, and white, and red, and-

“Supergirl!” shouted the redheaded boy, jumping to his feet.

Indeed, the girl of steel was plummeting fast towards them. Jimmy moved around, first to the left and forward, then straight back. A little more to the right– A lot more to the right. More forwards. More backwards. Less backwards. More—

There was a small leap, then a hard impact. Skidding rubber against gritty pavement. Alice followed the other girl’s arc the whole way. Jimmy turned too late, having missed his mark by a yard.

The blonde grumbled in exhaustive pain. Her brow trembled, eyes opening slowly to regain a sense of happening. Someone was there, but her eyes blurred the light. Her head rested against a cushioned shoulder, with her back and knees propped up by tensing forearms. She must have been too late. The bomb must have thrown her skyward.

How nice - how sweet - of this someone to catch her. She’d be fine from a little fall, but they still gave the effort to keep her from that extra harm. The shadowy blob was almost shaped like Olsen, and Kara thought that seemed right. Except that the colors were off. Black hair, not red. Maybe her cousin had– No, the arms were far too skinny to belong to Superman. Then who?

Focus. Realization. A conflicting throb in the chest. Those faintly glowing eyes and that smarmy grin staring down at her slack form. Comfort drained from her body. Of all the bad luck. It just had to be him.

“Welcome back, princess”, Wayne jeered.

With urgency, Supergirl bolted upright and shoved away from the boy that caught her. Wayne slid on his heels a good distance back from the unfiltered force, but managed to stay standing. The heroine’s face wore her inner turmoil plainly. Flushed face, cold sweat, and a thoroughly disgusted expression. Alice held in a laugh, sympathizing the evident battle within the alien’s psyche. Poor little damsel.

A few breaths passed, and Supergirl’s manners caught up with her. Lacking the fortitude to face her helper, she shot over her shoulder a sour, “Thanks… I-I guess.”

“Don’t sweat it”, Wayne shouted back, not bothering to return to his prior position. Silence resumed. Attention returned to the devastation.

“So… Did we win?” asked Jimmy, uncertain from the harbor’s present conditions.

“For now, I guess”, replied Supergirl. The doubts carried through in her voice.

“Wait”, Alice interjected, reminded of her objective. “Win against what, exactly? And why were you even here, Wayne—”

As attention returned to Wayne, it came with an awareness that the aforementioned boy was already on his way out. He had wasted no time, having turned away during the silence to begin his exit unannounced. By now, he’d already added a good bit of distance between himself and the others.

Only turning his head to face a single eye their way, Wayne shouted back flatly, “Tell you later. And don’t tell the boss about this, yeah? It’d be bad press~”

Once more, he left no room for objection. His pace increased as he trotted away, hands firmly pocketed yet again. The others were not without speech, but it was made clear that Wayne would not be receptive to commentary or request.

“Sure! Fine! Just swoop in and run away! Whatever”, Supergirl whinged, crossing her arms with deepening frustration. Mostly towards herself.

“Jeez”, Jimmy added. “Guy could at least stick around for the cleanup.”

“Can’t say I blame him”, Esteban chimed in, not really wanting to stick around either. “You, uh… You think the cops will get here soon?”

“Goddamn, showboating troglodyte”, Alice grumbled with fury. With no other options, she snapped her attention to the other redhead. She had come all this way. Someone must have what she sought.

“You! Urchin”, Alice demanded, stupefying Jimmy in her addressal of him. “What was this all about? How do you know him!?”

Caught off-guard, Jimmy couldn’t devise a clever deflection. “He- He was the guy that tipped me off to this whole place! Didn’t even know who he was until today! Dude just texted me to check the arcades after that tech fair attack!”

Intriguing. And more telling than the poor newsboy realized. The scowl Alice wore began to weaken with the faint sense of victory. Craving more, she snapped to Supergirl. She gave the blonde a once over with her eyes before asking, “And what’s your relation to that trog, Barbie?”

Kara didn’t appreciate this other girl’s tone one bit. Not the pejorative, nor the implication. She clicked her tongue, posturing herself defensively as she answered.

“Supergirl, first of all. And no relation, I’ll have you know! I- I’ve only met him today.”

Suspicion flashed in Alice’s eyes, but considering this broad had survived an explosive at point blank, pressing the issue seemed like a poor idea.

Esteban, meanwhile, was growing disquieted from the aggression flooding the carbon thick air. “Easy, Alice, easy! Let’s all simmer down and clear out of here too, before–”

Too late. There was a whooshing from above. Something like a large bird swooping down. The fire light cloaked its shadow. A man descended towards them, all four turning with uncertainty. His frame was massive, and made only larger from the billowing red cape. Black hair coiffed back. Small, piercing eyes gazing down upon them. Jimmy and Esteban seemed excited, beaming from ear to ear. Alice remained callous, even in the face of this titan of Metropolis. Supergirl, however, shrank in shame.

“Are you kids alright?” asked the floating man, looking from the ruined warehouse to the teens. “What happened here? I assume at least one of you can answer.”

This final remark was aimed quite clearly towards Supergirl, who reacted with an uncomfortable chuckle and grin. She looked at Jimmy. Jimmy shrugged. Alice and Esteban stood in silence, content enough to merely listen in. Supergirl put her palms together with a pleading expression, maintaining eye contact with the junior journalist. A chemical jolt shot through him. His will broke down with a defeated sigh. Turning to face his idol, Jimmy gave in to his imposed role.

“Okay, okay! I’ll tell you what went on, just... Please don’t be mad at us, alright?”