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Chapter 8 - Chapter 8: Shadows beneath Cadmus.

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After his father left, Mark stood by the window, heart pounding beneath his plain pajama shirt. The air in his room was thick with unease. He had seen the look in his father's eyes, guilt, hesitation, something deeper and he couldn't ignore it.

Without another thought, he threw on a dark hoodie over his clothes and moved swiftly to the rooftop.

Moments later, the Gordius Wheel chariot descended from the heavens, glowing faintly like a golden storm cloud. Its wheels sparked quietly against the sky as it hovered above him.

Mark leapt aboard, cloaked by the clouds, trailing silently behind his father's car like a ghost.

The journey didn't take long. The vehicle pulled into a tall, grey facility surrounded by fences laced with motion sensors. Steel walls rose high, wrapped in wire and blinking red lights, a fortress disguised as a government building. But Mark knew better. This was Cadmus.

From above, Mark could see the heavy presence of security, cameras with sweeping red eyes, guards at every corner, and a steady hum of mechanical surveillance. He needed to enter. But Cadmus didn't let just anyone walk in.

Closing his eyes, he muttered a word Raven had taught him in their training sessions.

A shimmer of silver light rolled over his body before vanishing. He looked down. His hands were gone, his feet too. The spell worked. He was invisible.

Still, invisibility alone wouldn't save him. The facility had sensors designed to catch even the slightest heat trace or motion. He crept across the perimeter like a whisper, ducking beneath cameras, slipping through narrow access vents. Sweat clung to his brow despite the cool night air.

Inside, he watched from above as his father entered an elevator. Mark kept his distance, crawling through tight tunnels above the shaft, his fingers steady against the metal grid. When the elevator began to descend, he followed, sliding silently down a maintenance rail built into the shaft's side.

The lower levels were like an entirely different world — sterile, humming with energy.

White light poured down from above, bouncing off polished chrome and glass. Mark found himself in a sprawling underground lab.

No one would've guessed this place existed.

He crept forward, eyes scanning the area, and then froze.

Standing near a control console was a tall, bald man in a black suit, posture sharp and commanding. His presence radiated power and authority. Next to him stood a woman with unreadable eyes and a stance that screamed readiness.

Mark instantly recognized them.

Lex Luthor and his silent protector, Mercy.

Luthor turned as his father approached. There was tension in the air, subtle but present, like the hum before a storm.

"You took your time, Mr. Flinch. We're ahead of schedule," Luthor said, his voice cold and precise.

"I—an emergency came up. It's been handled," his father answered, his voice slightly unsteady.

Luthor gave a slight nod, then motioned toward a sealed door.

After inputting a password, it hissed open.

Mark, careful and quiet, memorized the code. As they stepped through, he darted forward, slipping inside just before the door shut.

Inside his mind, the kings stirred.

[Artoria: This is risky, Mark. Are you sure you want to do this?]

[Mark: I have to.]

[Artoria: You could've asked for help. That girl, Raven…]

[Mark: No. This is between me and him.]

[Ozymandias: Then proceed. But stay sharp.]

The deeper he went, the more unsettling it became. The lab was massive, its ceiling disappearing into shadow. Machines pulsed with quiet menace — robotic arms moving, fluid tanks bubbling, screens flickering with data.

Then he saw them.

Rows upon rows of people, suspended in containment pods. Their bodies no longer whole, wires jutted from their limbs, eyes replaced by glowing lenses. Flesh merged with steel. They weren't people anymore. They were soldiers. Cyborgs.

Mark's breath caught. Hundreds of them powered by alien tech. Embedded in their chests were Father Boxes, humming with Apokoliptian energy.

The implications were terrifying. With an army like this, The Light could topple the League in days.

He moved deeper into the room. More pods. More machines. Even teens, barely old enough, lay unconscious, waiting for their turn. His hands clenched. This wasn't just science. It was horror.

Then a sound shattered the silence.

Alarms shrieked, red lights flashing wildly. Motion sensors had triggered. Somewhere, somehow, he had slipped up.

Luthor's eyes narrowed as the screens in front of him came to life.

"Scan for intruder," he ordered.

Metal doors sealed. Turrets lowered. The facility locked into defense mode.

Mark ducked behind a pillar, heart racing. He couldn't run. Not now. Not after what he'd seen.

"Deploy security units," came Luthor's command.

From the walls, heavy robots began marching in. Their eyes glowed red. Their footsteps echoed. Mark gritted his teeth and prepared for battle.

One robot lunged, plasma cannon flaring. Mark ducked and rolled to the side. Sparks lit up the room.

Energy surged through his hand as he summoned a weapon. Light twisted into form, and from it emerged a sword — long, gleaming, humming with ancient power.

He moved like lightning.

The first robot fell, sliced clean in half. The second came from the side, but he turned, blade meeting metal. Sparks flew. Another strike. Another enemy down.

[Iskandar: Behind you.]

Mark jumped, spinning mid-air as a robot closed in. He slashed downward, splitting it clean through.

Meanwhile, Luthor watched the scene unfold, disturbed.

"No League member moves like that… None could've bypassed the security."

He turned to one of the assistants.

"Facial recognition?"

"Negative. He's covered. Masked."

Luthor's eyes narrowed. Whoever this was, they were good. Too good.

"Activate the new units. Let's see how our prototype handles a real threat."

Back in the chamber, Mark continued his battle. One by one, the robots fell beneath his blade. He summoned the Gordius Wheel, the chariot appearing in a flash of light, crashing into the swarm like a storm made of bronze and fire.

The tide turned — until it didn't.

A sudden blast struck the chariot mid-air. The golden vehicle crashed, vanishing in fragments. Mark tumbled to the ground, dazed, rolling across the cold floor.

Two figures stepped forward.

Cyborgs, taller than the rest. Sleek, powerful. Their arms morphed, becoming cannons that glowed with pulsating energy.

Mark wiped the blood from his lip, standing slowly.

"I really should've stayed in bed," he muttered, eyes narrowing.

The cannons fired. Explosions tore through the chamber, drowning everything in fire and smoke. Mark disappeared in the blast.

One cyborg stepped forward, scanning.

"Threat neutralized."

They turned to leave — but froze.

Behind them, the smoke stirred.

Energy surged. Something was rising.

And it wasn't done fighting.

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