Shadows Over Texas
The desert night over Texas was quiet in the way only corporate lies could make it.
From the air, the LexCorp warehouse looked mundane—rows of steel containers, security lights, delivery trucks moving on schedule. To the U.S. government, it was a logistics hub. To the world, another cog in Lex Luthor's empire.
To The Light, it was a weapons transfer point.
The convoy rolled in without resistance.
Black Manta oversaw the operation with military precision, directing mercenaries and automated loaders as crates marked medical equipment and industrial hardware were moved inside. In reality, the shipment contained Lex Luthor's weapons prototypes and refined components for rebuilding the Blockbuster serum—everything Vandal Savage required.
Cheshire and Black Spider stayed at the perimeter.
Cheshire moved differently now.
She didn't walk—she glided, her boots barely gripping the concrete as if friction itself had become optional. Every step was silent, fluid, controlled. The scars that once mapped her skin were gone, replaced by smooth, unmarred flesh that caught the dim lights like polished glass.
She said nothing.
She didn't need to.
The operation finished in under twenty minutes.
Once the final crate disappeared into the warehouse and confirmation codes were sent, Black Manta gave the signal.
"Mission complete. Disperse."
Cheshire didn't wait.
She vanished into the shadows the moment clearance was given, Black Spider following seconds later. By the time anyone thought to look for her, she was already miles away—moving faster than before, lighter than she had ever been.
Sportsmaster's Eyes
Sportsmaster noticed.
He always did.
From a rooftop overlooking the warehouse, he watched Cheshire's exit replay on his visor—slowed, magnified, dissected frame by frame. Her movements didn't match known enhancements. No boosters. No visible tech. No heat spikes. No magical signatures he could detect.
Too clean.
Too perfect.
"She wasn't moving like that before," he muttered.
No one answered.
Sportsmaster didn't push it—not yet. But the seed had been planted.
And once Sportsmaster started digging, he didn't stop.
The Light Watches
Elsewhere, in a chamber of screens and shadows, The Light reviewed the footage.
Simon's report played alongside visual feeds—thermal scans, biometric overlays, kinetic breakdowns. Cheshire's performance stood out like a glitch in reality.
Queen Bee leaned forward, intrigued.
Ocean Master frowned, arms crossed.
Vandal Savage said nothing—watching, calculating.
Lex Luthor's expression remained neutral, but his mind was racing.
"No known metagene activation," Simon reported.
"No detectable artifact," another analyst added.
"And no external technology visible."
Silence followed.
"So," Queen Bee said softly, "what is she?"
"A mutation?" Ocean Master suggested.
"Magic?" another voice offered.
Lex leaned back.
"No," he said finally. "Magic leaves fingerprints. Technology leaves schematics. This leaves neither."
He paused.
Then, almost as an afterthought, a memory surfaced.
A boy.
A rooftop.
A devil fruit forced into Superboy's hands.
Lex's eyes narrowed.
"Unlikely," he said aloud. "We've searched for eight months. No leads. No replication. No sightings."
Still…
He didn't dismiss the thought entirely.
Because Lex Luthor had learned one thing recently:
If something impossible existed in this world—
Damian Wayne was usually nearby.
Closing
In Texas, the warehouse doors closed.
In the shadows, Cheshire disappeared into the night—stronger, faster, untouchable.
And across the world, powerful minds began circling the same question:
Where did her power really come from?
And more importantly—
Who would be next?