The fight was epic—you know, the kind where you could feel the earth shake with every swing, and everything around you was just one wrong move away from being totally obliterated. Slade Wilson, Deathstroke to his friends (and by "friends," I mean "anyone who's unlucky enough to be his enemy"), was swinging that freakishly heavy Godkiller sword of his like he was auditioning for a role in a gladiator movie. Me? Well, I was wielding a flaming sword the size of my ego, and it was burning so hot I could probably roast marshmallows on it. If I weren't busy, you know, fighting for my life.
The first clash of our blades sent a shockwave through the air, knocking nearby debris into the air like it was just a bunch of scrap metal. I gritted my teeth, trying to keep my balance as I felt the power of the Phoenix fire wrapping itself around my sword, pushing me forward. The blue flames were practically begging to burn something, and lucky for them, Slade seemed like a great candidate.
Slade didn't even flinch. He just shot me that cocky grin of his, the one that made it look like he was too busy calculating my inevitable demise to even care about the fire I was throwing at him. "Nice try, kid," he said, his voice gravelly like he had just swallowed a handful of broken glass. "But you don't scare me. I've taken down gods, demons, and soldiers with a single breath. You're just another obstacle."
Yeah, well, he was about to find out that I wasn't just "another obstacle." Not even close.
I stepped back, feeling the flames around my sword flare higher as I smirked. "You're right about one thing," I said, channeling the full force of the Phoenix inside me. "You don't scare me either."
His grin faltered for half a second, and that was all I needed. My sword exploded forward in a flurry of blue fire that sent him skidding back, his feet leaving trails of sparks on the concrete. You'd think a guy who's spent his life fighting would be prepared for a fiery sword, but nope—this guy was way too used to being the one doing the overwhelming.
"You're starting to show your hand, aren't you?" Slade grumbled, his eyes flicking over the fire. "This isn't just fire anymore. You've got something else in there, don't you?"
I grinned. "Call it a secret weapon."
Slade's eyes narrowed, but I could tell he was intrigued now. Good. He should be.
The flames around my sword grew hotter, wilder. It wasn't just on my blade anymore. The fire was alive, wrapping around me like a second skin, twisting into serpentine shapes that burned through the air. I wasn't just fighting—I was fighting with fire. I spun my sword in a series of rapid strikes, each one cutting through the air with a deafening roar of fire. It was like a tornado made of flame was following my every move, trying to cook Slade alive.
But Slade wasn't stupid. He wasn't slowing down either. Each of his strikes was precise, calculated, and deadly—he didn't get to be a legend by accident. I barely managed to deflect one of his blows, but it felt like my arm was going to fall off from the impact. Still, I pushed back, flames flaring brighter. "I don't need tricks," I said between breaths. "I just need to keep up with you."
Slade took a step back, his eyes scanning me like he was trying to figure out my next move. That's when I felt the surge—Miss Martian's telepathic voice buzzing in my mind, smooth and calm despite the chaos below.
"Harry, I've got Kid Flash on standby. I'm ready to move when you say."
"Tell him to wait for Slade to slip up," I shot back. "The guy's a stone wall, but everyone has a weak spot."
There was a brief pause before her voice returned, calm as ever: "Got it. I'll relay the message."
I didn't have time to savor her words because Slade, that sneaky jerk, was already lunging again, his sword slashing down with a speed that would've made even me flinch if I hadn't been so focused. I was fast, but Slade was a whole different kind of fast, like a freight train on fire. But, as I braced for impact, I saw it. A small slip-up—his foot caught on some oil slicked across the ground from one of his earlier moves. It wasn't much, but it was enough.
"NOW!" I yelled, and I didn't wait for confirmation.
Out of nowhere, there was a blur. Kid Flash. That kid could move faster than my brain could process. Slade barely had time to react before Wally West was on him, zipping around the battlefield like a human tornado. Slade swung his Godkiller sword, but Kid Flash was already a blur, a streak of red and yellow flashing past him.
And then, in the most epic moment ever, Kid Flash slammed a fist right into the back of Slade's head, like he was trying to knock him into next week. Slade's whole body jerked forward, and the Godkiller sword slipped from his grasp for a split second.
"Nice try, old man," Wally quipped, before zipping back out of range before Slade could even register what had happened.
I didn't waste any time. With the fire burning hotter than my patience, I charged forward and—BOOM—slammed my sword down right where Slade's back was exposed. The force of it felt like an explosion, the flames roaring up around us in a wave of destruction. The air crackled with power, and I knew this was it.
Slade staggered back, eyes flashing with a mix of fury and something else—respect, maybe? Whatever it was, it only made me grin wider.
"Kid, you've got fire," he growled, but I could hear the edge of uncertainty in his voice. "But I'm not done yet."
He was still standing, but he knew now. He'd underestimated me. And that? That was his first mistake.
The fight wasn't over yet. Not by a long shot. But now? Now, it was anyone's game. And I was ready to win.
—
The battle was a blur of blades, fire, and well-timed insults. Slade was giving me one of those "I'm about to turn your life into a full-on disaster" looks, which, let me tell you, isn't a great way to feel like you're winning a fight. I mean, the guy was like a walking tactical manual with a sword attached to his hand. You'd think by now I'd have learned to not get distracted, but hey, this is me we're talking about.
I dodged a wicked slash that came way too close to turning me into Harry Pot Roast. "Okay, this is getting old, Slade!" I yelled, spinning to the side, making sure to keep the flames from my Phoenix power dancing in the air around me like an epic fire show. "You really don't know when to quit, do you?"
"Quit talking," Slade growled, his sword swiping through the air with enough force to split a mountain in two. Seriously, the guy didn't just swing his sword; he threw it at you with all the care and concern of a toddler with a toy knife. It was terrifying.
Kid Flash, aka Wally, was zipping around like a caffeinated squirrel, keeping Slade distracted with his blur of motion. Every time Slade swung at him, it was like he was fighting a ghost. "Come on, Slade! You can't even hit me! What is this, a slow-mo fight scene?" Wally's voice crackled through my comms, full of that annoying, totally-in-the-zone confidence.
"Can you stop taunting him for, like, five seconds, Flash?" I muttered, narrowly dodging another lethal swipe. It felt like I was in a bad action movie, the kind where you know the hero is going to survive, but you're pretty sure they're going to pull some dumb move to get themself really hurt first.
Wally zipped past me again, pulling Slade's attention. "This is what we call 'keeping him busy,' Harry!"
"Right," I muttered under my breath. "But I think it's time we hit the home stretch here."
"Gotcha," Megan's calm voice hummed in my mind. "Everyone is ready, Harry. Just don't blow it."
I glanced at Slade, watching his cold eyes narrow as he locked onto me. There was something dark there, something that told me he wasn't going to blow it. This wasn't just another bad day for Deathstroke—he was pissed, and when Slade Wilson got angry, well, that was usually when things got really bad for people like me.
I didn't have much time. Slade was winding up for a death blow. His sword was aimed squarely at my neck. This wasn't your average sparring session. If I got hit, I'd be checking into the afterlife early. Like, way too early. So, I did what any sensible person in my position would do: I let loose with everything.
"Miss M, tell the gang it's go-time!" I mentally shouted as I sent a blast of Phoenix fire toward Slade, forcing him back. "We need stunners, like, yesterday!"
There was a brief pause in my mind—Megan's soothing presence cutting through the chaos. "All set, Harry. We've got your back."
The moment I felt her confirmation, I switched gears. I channeled more fire, then dashed in, right under Slade's sword swipe. He didn't even see me coming. Kid Flash had him too distracted. That's when I saw it—Slade's back was wide open. This was it.
"NOW!" I yelled, hoping Megan had sent the message. At least I hoped she had, because if this didn't work, I was about to find out how good Slade was at swinging a sword with a target on his back. Spoiler alert: probably really good.
Then the fireworks started.
Fred and George (aka the Marauders, my favorite dynamic duo) were already in position, wands raised and ready to blow Slade's mind—literally. Arcana (Hermione, but cooler) had her wand at the ready, her brow furrowed in focus. Cannonball (Ron, whose enthusiasm could power an entire fleet of spaceships) had a grin that told me he was about to unleash something nasty. Firebolt (Ginny, who'd clearly had enough of my "hero" speeches) was perched like a hawk, ready to go. And Grimm (Sirius, looking like he was about to smash every one of Slade's bones) was on standby.
The instant Slade whipped around, a burst of stunners hit him, all at once. It was like watching a bunch of lightbulbs go off in his face. I saw him jerk back, muscles locking, his entire body rattling from the blasts. Then came the sound I'd been waiting for—the Godkiller sword hitting the ground with a loud clink.
It was almost too easy.
Almost.
I wasted zero seconds, sliding forward, grabbing the hilt of the sword. The instant my fingers wrapped around it, there was a pulse. Not a metaphorical one—a real, actual pulse—like the sword was alive and waking up in my hand. My chest filled with heat, like the weapon was speaking directly to me, calling for connection.
I could feel the warmth of it spreading up my arm, a surge of raw power—the kind of power that made the Phoenix flames feel like a campfire. My grip tightened. "Well, well," I said with a smirk, testing the weight. "Guess you're stuck with me now."
The fire surged. This was what it meant to wield the Godkiller. Not just power—but a living force, a bond. I could feel it—itwasminenow. And that meant, for Slade, things were about to go downhill fast.
Slade was still recovering, his eyes blazing with fury. He was gritting his teeth, clearly trying to shake off the stunners. The minute his gaze landed on the sword in my hand, his face shifted. It wasn't just rage. It was fear. And I could almost hear him muttering through clenched teeth:
"Damn it."
I gave him a little grin. "You have no idea, Slade." I twirled the sword once, feeling the power ripple through me. This was it. The sword, the Phoenix flames, the team—everything was in place.
"Good luck, buddy," I said, stepping back. "But you're gonna need more than a sword to take me down."
Slade was tough. No doubt about that. But now? The Godkiller had chosen me. And that? That was game over.
—
Slade's head snapped up, and I could practically hear his brain screaming in frustration as the stunners continued to freeze him in place. His one eye—the one that wasn't hidden behind that iconic mask—bored into me like I was some sort of insult to his legendary badassery. His lips curled into a sneer, but he couldn't quite hide the irritation bubbling beneath the surface.
"I didn't expect..." he began, voice tight, "...such underhanded tactics from a so-called hero."
I shrugged, twirling the Godkiller sword around like it was some cool new toy. "Well, yeah, you would think a guy like you would be used to playing dirty, but I guess you missed that memo. I don't do the 'honorable hero' thing." Flames from my Phoenix powers crackled to life around me, swirling like they were trying to show off. Seriously, could the fire not be that dramatic for once? "You're not the only one with tricks up his sleeve, Slade. Trust me."
Slade's lips curled in that trademark sneer of his, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. "So what, now you think a sword and some fire make you invincible? You really think you can beat me with a flashy trick like that?"
I laughed—loudly and without a shred of humor. "If you think that's what I'm working with, you clearly haven't been paying attention." I stepped closer, the flames licking at the edges of his mask. If he were a barbecue, I'd be a little worried about him getting too crispy. But hey, it's not like I was here to be subtle. "I'm not some kid playing dress-up, Slade. Trust me, I've had worse days than you could dream of. But you? You've been outplayed. And now I'm about to show you why."
His eye narrowed, and I swear I could see the mental gears turning in his head. The guy was nothing if not a master strategist. Still, even he couldn't keep up with the mess I was about to lay down. He opened his mouth to say something—probably some kind of 'I'm unstoppable' speech—but I cut him off, because, let's be honest, the world didn't need more of that.
"You're not the only one with tricks, Slade," I said, crouching down in front of him, getting all up in his grill. "I've got a legacy. My old man? He was a trickster and a warrior. He didn't play by the rules—he made his own. And guess who learned from the best?"
Slade's eye twitched like he was trying to figure out if I was bluffing or just completely nuts. "A trickster... figures." He muttered under his breath, clearly not thrilled with the idea. "But you think you can win? Really?"
I grinned like I was about to deliver a punchline. "You think I care about being a hero, Slade?" I threw my arms wide like I was at the climax of some epic movie speech. "I'm not here to follow some fluffy idealistic code. I'm here to do what needs doing. And what needs doing right now is you. You don't get to walk away from this one."
His jaw tightened. And for a second, I thought I saw a tiny crack in his steely exterior—like maybe, just maybe, he was starting to realize the seriousness of his situation. But before he could fire off another one of those 'I'm invincible' speeches, I hit him with another curveball.
"You think that sword—the Godkiller—is just a weapon, don't you?" I asked, grinning. "The thing is, it's not just some shiny piece of metal. It's a choice. And right now? I'm choosing to make you regret messing with me."
Slade's expression faltered for just a split second—just long enough for me to notice. I let the moment hang there like a piece of fruit ripe for the picking. The guy's been a walking weapon for years, but now? He was the one staring down something far more dangerous. A kid with a goddamn sword and a whole bunch of firepower in his back pocket.
"I'm not following anyone's rules, Slade," I said, straightening up. "I make my own. This? This power? This sword?" I gave the Godkiller a twirl, watching it hum to life like it was all too happy to join the party. "It's not just a weapon. It's a statement. And right now, that statement is: You're done."
Slade growled through clenched teeth. "You think you've won, kid? You really think you're the one calling the shots here?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. I do." The flames flared, hotter now, as if the universe was giving me a high-five. The air crackled with the kind of energy that makes you want to take a step back and reassess your life choices. I could feel the Godkiller pulsating in my hand, like it was eager for the next move. "I'm not some wannabe hero. I'm the one who decides when this ends."
His face contorted in frustration. "You've got a sword, but you don't have what it takes to finish this, kid. You're not me."
I grinned, stepping back and raising the Godkiller high. "No, Slade. I'm not you. And thank God for that." My voice dropped to a dark, playful tone as I looked him dead in the eye. "But what I am is someone who's just kicked your ass."
I let the sword's energy gather, flames swirling around me in a perfect storm of power. The game was over. Slade Wilson had finally met his match, and I wasn't just playing by my own rules—I was rewriting the damn playbook.
Slade? Yeah, he was in for one hell of a lesson today.
And I was the one handing out the syllabus.
—
Just as I raised the Godkiller, ready to finish what I'd started, a flicker of movement caught my eye. I didn't need to look twice to know who it was. There, cloaked in shadows, was Sirius. Yeah, that Sirius. The guy was practically a ghost when it came to sneaking around. But he wasn't here to drop a "let me handle this" speech. Nope, Sirius was already at work.
"Step aside," Sirius muttered, voice gruff and low, the kind of voice that told you he wasn't here for small talk. He flicked his wand with that familiar fluid motion, the same precision I'd seen a hundred times before. A tendril of glowing blue magical energy shot out, wrapping itself around Slade's limbs like chains made of light. The assassin's body jerked, caught in a web of magic that drained his strength, locking him down with the kind of efficiency I'd expect from someone who'd faced down dark wizards, monsters, and ancient curses in his time.
I couldn't help but smirk. "That's right, Slade. No talking your way out of this one."
Sirius didn't acknowledge me. His focus was entirely on the bound mercenary. "He won't be talking at all. Not for a while." With a fluid motion of his wrist, Slade was lifted off the ground like a puppet on invisible strings. He hovered a few feet above the floor, helpless and pissed, as Sirius began to float him away.
My eyebrow shot up. "Where the hell are you taking him?"
Sirius didn't break stride, his voice casual as ever. "Where the rest of his team's waiting. We're not here just for him, you know. The rest of the team needs to be kept in check."
I let out a breath and followed, my grip tightening on the Godkiller. No time for victory laps—this wasn't over yet. The air in the lair felt suffocating, like it had absorbed every single dark thought Slade had ever had. The floor beneath our boots was slick, and the stench of oil and decay seemed to hang in the air like it had been stewing in this place for years.
Sirius wasn't in any rush. His eyes darted around, scanning the dark corners of the lair, ever vigilant. The guy had this uncanny ability to stay sharp, even when he was doing something that seemed effortless. It was as if his brain was always five steps ahead, and I liked to think I was pretty good at keeping up.
We reached the central holding cells before long. The sight wasn't pretty: Ravager, Black Spider, Ragdoll, Copperhead, and Brick—all suspended in various positions, bound and gagged, clearly incapacitated. The whole scene had the feel of an action movie set gone wrong. Ragdoll's body, for example, was contorted in ways that would've made anyone with a sense of personal space break into a cold sweat. I couldn't help but shudder, though I masked it with a grin.
Sirius didn't flinch. He flicked his wand again, tightening the magical bindings around each of the mercenaries, securing them in place. His magic wasn't just about containment—it was about absolute control, making sure nothing was left to chance.
"You sure about this?" I asked, eyeing the bound group. "I mean, these guys aren't exactly known for their politeness."
Sirius shot me a look that could've frozen a hundred suns. "Positive. We're not here for their manners." He didn't waste time, his attention already shifting back to Deathstroke, who was now floating by his side. "We need answers from Slade, and we're going to get them. But he's not the only one who has secrets."
I glanced over at Talia, who was already in the middle of hacking into the lair's central computer system. She was a woman on a mission, her every movement deliberate and filled with purpose. The way she sat at the terminal, fingers flying over the keys with the speed and grace of a concert pianist, was almost hypnotic. But I knew better than to get distracted. She was good. Damn good. Probably better than anyone else in this room at cracking into the most secure systems.
I walked over and leaned in slightly, watching the screen flicker with streams of encrypted data. "Anything interesting?" I asked.
Talia didn't even look up, but the slight curl of her lips spoke volumes. "Deathstroke isn't just working for money. He's part of something far bigger." She paused for a moment, fingers tapping a few commands, and the screen flashed, pulling up detailed files I couldn't make heads or tails of at first glance. But one thing was clear—this wasn't just about mercenaries anymore.
Her voice was cold, calculating. "He's running operations. But someone else is pulling the strings. Someone far more dangerous." The way she said it made it clear that whatever it was, it wasn't something I'd want to deal with lightly.
I frowned, leaning closer. "So we're up against more than just hired guns. There's a whole power structure behind all this?"
"Precisely," Talia replied, her voice growing more intense. "And if we don't find out who's really behind this, we're just playing into their hands. This isn't just a mercenary operation. This is something far darker, and it goes deeper than any of us have imagined."
The weight of her words sank in like a stone, but I wasn't ready to stop just yet. "Great," I muttered, rubbing my temples. "Just what I needed. Another damn conspiracy."
Talia didn't even acknowledge the sarcasm. "We don't have the luxury of time, Harry," she snapped, her focus now completely on the data flowing across the screen. "The clock is ticking. And we need to figure out what Slade knows."
I nodded, my fingers gripping the hilt of the Godkiller a little tighter. This wasn't just another fight. This wasn't about some petty mercenaries or some maniac with a grudge. No, this was something much bigger, and I was right in the middle of it. I could feel the weight of it pressing on me like an anvil, but damn it, I wasn't going to back down now. Not when the stakes were this high.
Sirius came to stand beside me, glancing over at the terminal. "We get this right, kid, and we stop a whole lot of pain before it starts."
I gave him a tight smile. "Just another day in the life, right?"
He smirked, his eyes glinting with that unspoken understanding that, no matter how messed up the world got, we'd find a way to make it out alive. We always did.
"Exactly," Sirius said, and for a second, I could almost hear him think, And if we don't, at least it'll be a hell of a ride.
Talia's fingers hovered over the keyboard, but her voice broke the moment. "I've got it. I know who's behind this."
I turned to her, my heart pounding in my chest. "Who?"
Her gaze met mine, cool and composed. "Damien Darhk."
—
I blinked, staring at Talia like she'd just dropped a bombshell in the middle of a quiet dinner. "Damien Darhk? Who the hell is that?"
I wasn't kidding. The name didn't ring a single bell, and I was pretty damn good at keeping track of people who liked to mess with my life. But this guy? Nothing. Nada. Zip.
Talia didn't even flinch. She just looked at me with that infuriating calm, like I should've already known. "Damien Darhk," she repeated, as though explaining the concept of gravity to someone who had just discovered the Earth. "He's a former member of the League of Assassins, a man with a taste for chaos and power. He's a manipulator, a strategist, and he's been pulling the strings on several high-profile operations across the globe. His influence is vast, but he operates from the shadows. You won't find him unless he wants you to."
I couldn't help but scowl. "Yeah, well, I don't give a damn about shadow puppeteers. What's his deal?"
Sirius, ever the cool and collected presence, stepped in then. "Darhk's got a history. It's more than just mercenaries and random attacks. He's building something. He's dangerous. And we need to stop him before whatever the hell he's planning blows up in our faces."
I grunted in frustration, running a hand through my hair. "Great. So I've got a ghost of a guy pulling the strings from the shadows. Fantastic."
Talia shot me a pointed look. "We don't have the luxury of ignorance, Harry. If we don't track him down and figure out his plan, it's not just you and your friends at risk. It's the entire world."
I exhaled slowly, letting the weight of her words settle in. This was bigger than I thought. But I wasn't going to back down now. Not when I was in this deep.
Just as I was about to respond, the sound of a door slamming echoed through the lair. I glanced over to see Kid Flash, Fred, and George slipping through one of the corridors, each of them carrying what looked like a few questionable souvenirs—a stack of high-tech gadgets, a bag filled with what could've been explosives, and something that looked like an advanced interrogation device.
Fred flashed me a grin, his ever-present mischievous glint in his eye. "Found some stuff we thought might be useful," he said, tossing a gadget in the air like it was a casual snack. "Though, I have to admit, this place doesn't exactly scream 'home decor.'"
George chimed in, "Yeah, more like 'soul-crushing lair of impending doom.' But hey, there's a certain charm to it."
I shot them a glare, but honestly, I couldn't help but smirk. Leave it to Fred and George to turn a deadly mission into a scavenger hunt.
Artemis, Superboy, Arcana, Cannonball, and Firebolt were standing off to the side, arms crossed, watching the whole mess unfold with varying degrees of exasperation. Superboy, arms crossed and scowling, shot me a look that pretty much summed up how everyone was feeling. "Really? You guys are stealing stuff now?"
"Kid Flash and the Marauders are just… reclaiming what's ours," I said, raising an eyebrow at him. "You know, doing the whole 'finders keepers' thing."
Arcana (Hermione), standing a few steps behind me, narrowed her eyes at Fred and George. "You're going to get us in trouble, you know that, right?"
"We've got everything under control, Arcana," George said with a wink. "Besides, if we don't bring something back to Mount Justice, how else will they know we had a successful mission?"
Artemis rolled her eyes, though there was a hint of a smile playing at the corner of her lips. "You're a handful, you know that?"
"Better a handful than a bore," Fred quipped.
Firebolt (Ginny) just sighed, her arms crossed tightly as she stood next to Superboy. "At this rate, we're gonna be here all night."
"I'll make sure to grab the best souvenirs, don't worry," Kid Flash said, his voice an easy mix of confidence and a bit of a dare. "Anything you want from the evil lair of doom, just let me know."
I shook my head. "Yeah, let's just make sure we don't blow the place up before we figure out who the hell Damien Darhk is, and what he's planning."
Fred raised his hand, looking more serious than I'd ever seen him. "You can count on us, mate. But… about Darhk… he's the guy behind Deathstroke, right?"
I nodded. "Yeah. And he's not the type to take no for an answer. So, you all better start looking for clues while we figure out where the hell he is."
George shot me a quick salute before turning back to the pile of weird tech they'd gathered. "On it, cap. We'll be the ones with the good stuff to show for this little adventure."
As they scattered again, I turned my attention back to Talia, who was still engrossed in the data streaming across her terminal. My heart pounded, the weight of everything bearing down on me. If we didn't stop Damien Darhk soon, everything we'd fought for would be at risk.
"Let's get moving," I said, clenching my fists. "We've got a lot of work ahead of us."
—
Meanwhile, in an undisclosed location, Damien Darhk sat in a darkened command center, his fingers lightly tapping the surface of a sleek, polished desk. His piercing eyes were focused on a screen displaying live footage of Shadowflame and his crew moving through the heart of Deathstroke's lair. A drone, camouflaged in the shadows, hovered just outside their path, feeding Darhk real-time data.
Darhk leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He had been watching the scene unfold for days, carefully orchestrating his next move. The young heroes—brash, fearless, and unpredictable—were mere pawns in a much larger game, but they were proving themselves useful. They were playing right into his hands.
He leaned forward, adjusting the angle of his monitor to get a clearer view of Shadowflame, the armored figure at the center of the action. The young hero—Shadowflame—moved with the precision of someone who had lived more than a lifetime's worth of battles. Black, red, and gold armor gleamed under the lair's harsh lighting, his red hooded cape billowing behind him like some sort of mythical specter. His golden mask gleamed, hiding his true face and revealing nothing of his thoughts. But Darhk didn't need to see his face to know what he was capable of.
The way he commanded his team—how his presence demanded respect, how his instincts drove him forward despite the odds—was undeniable. Shadowflame was the wildcard, the one who broke the rules, the one who didn't follow anyone's script but his own. He could be useful, but he would be a challenge to control.
"He's the son of Wonder Woman," Darhk muttered to himself, his tone almost admiring. "And yet, he's already more dangerous than she ever was. He doesn't need a lasso to tie people down. His fire does that for him."
Damien's fingers hovered over the controls, calling up a file marked "Shadowflame—Subject of Interest." The screen displayed numerous encounters, missions, and battles, all leading back to the same conclusion: Shadowflame was an unpredictable force, a blend of raw power and self-made destiny. The perfect player to manipulate… if he could be swayed.
But how to get him on my side? Damien mused. Ah, yes… allure him with the promise of power, and if that doesn't work—
A low buzz interrupted his thoughts. He glanced to the side, where a notification flashed. His brow furrowed.
"Ra's al Ghul has made his move," Darhk said softly, his voice dripping with menace. He turned his attention back to the drone feed, watching as the young heroes continued their search. He could feel the impending tension in the air, like a storm on the horizon, and he loved it. Ra's al Ghul and his League of Assassins, always a threat, and his forces—dangerous, cunning, and ruthless—were ready to strike.
But Damien Darhk didn't plan to be caught in the middle. No, he was playing for bigger stakes. Ra's might have the League, and Talia might have her loyalties, but Darhk was a shadow that existed outside their web. He'd been preparing for this war for years, ensuring that when the battle came, it would be his victory alone.
"Let the games begin," Darhk said with a low chuckle, his eyes narrowing as he zoomed in on Shadowflame's figure once again. "You'll either be my ally… or my greatest obstacle. And either way, you will serve my purpose."
His fingers twitched over a different set of controls, activating a network of hidden operatives spread across the globe. The time was near. He could feel it in his bones. A three-way battle was inevitable—Ra's al Ghul's League, his own organization, and these so-called "heroes" led by Shadowflame. The winner would be determined by who controlled the chaos, who mastered the shadows.
And Darhk planned to be the one pulling the strings, watching as the world bent to his will.
As the drone feed continued to transmit, Damien's eyes locked onto Shadowflame once more. The young hero in the black, red and gold armor—his armor, his legacy, his fire—was about to become a key player in the coming storm.
He won't follow me... but I can make him want to.
---
Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Click the link below to join the conversation:
https://discord.com/invite/HHHwRsB6wd
Can't wait to see you there!
If you appreciate my work and want to support me, consider buying me a cup of coffee. Your support helps me keep writing and bringing more stories to you. You can do so via PayPal here:
https://www.paypal.me/VikrantUtekar007
Or through my Buy Me a Coffee page:
https://www.buymeacoffee.com/vikired001s
Thank you for your support!