Chapter 149: 149

Words : 1168 Updated : Oct 9th, 2025

Mount Justice. Once the first headquarters of the Justice League—the legendary Secret Sanctuary—it had since been repurposed as the Team's base of operations. Now everyone simply called it "the Cave." It had everything: a fully stocked kitchen, a two-level library, living quarters that Conner and M'gann had made their home, a lounge with a massive television, and a workout room that could put most pro gyms to shame. It was the natural gathering place for the Team when they weren't on missions—like tonight. Koriand'r had grown used to the rhythm of the Cave. Joseph hadn't been around much lately—setting up his company took most of his time—and Rachel still kept to herself unless a mission required her presence. So Kori spent her downtime with whoever was here. Not that she minded. She liked them. She liked this. On Tamaran, she'd been raised as a princess and trained to one day rule, taught the importance of responsibility, tactical thinking, and protecting her people. Now, she saw this Team as her new people. Her leadership came as naturally here as it had at home—not from ego, but from a desire to protect. She was the heart of the group. Compassionate. Courageous. Believing in the best of others. It made her a counterweight to the cynicism that sometimes crept into a hero's life. She loved seeing her teammates grow, bond, and do good together. That's why, when she returned from a routine patrol in Washington D.C. and stepped into the Cave only to find fire, smoke, water, and twisted debris everywhere, her expression hardened instantly. The air smelled scorched. She could hear something in the hangar—metal scraping, the dull thud of movement. She flew toward the sound. What she saw in the hangar made her stop cold. Conner and Wally were pinned against the wall, restrained by jagged, twisted chunks of metal like improvised shackles. Artemis, Robin, M'gann, and Kaldur lay crumpled on the floor. Unconscious. The air felt thin—no, it had been sucked out. For anyone else, that would've been deadly. But not for her. Her altered physiology, the result of the Psions' experiments, meant she constantly absorbed ultraviolet radiation. She didn't need to breathe to survive. The same solar energy that fueled her flight and Starbolts could keep her alive in space. But none of that explained the sight in front of her: Red Tornado—their Red Tornado—standing with two other androids who looked like him: one with the shimmer of water rippling off his frame, the other wreathed in fire. Kori's jaw tightened. Betrayal was an old wound for her. She'd lived it with her sister Komand'r. And she would never let traitors hurt her people again. No hesitation. She streaked forward, fists blazing with starbolt energy, and went straight for Tornado. The first shockwave hit her mid-flight—a wall of compressed air blasted from his outstretched palms. She twisted through it, riding the turbulence instead of letting it slow her, and fired a Starbolt straight at his chest. The android's arms swept in a blur, winds shredding the bolt into sparks before it struck. Red Torpedo moved next, columns of water spiraling from his palms. They slammed into her from the side, hard enough to drive her toward the ground. She countered by igniting a burst of heat from her hands, vaporizing the worst of it into steam. A line of flame cut through the haze—Red Inferno, moving fast. The red fire seared the air between them, heat waves rolling across the floor. Kori met her head-on, her fist wreathed in blazing green Starbolts. Their clash lit the hangar in a yellow flash, heat clashing with heat. Kori pivoted, grabbed the android's wrist, and slammed her into the floor hard enough to dent the metal. Red Inferno's hand spasmed—damage in the servos. But there was no time to finish her. Red Tornado was already on her flank, cyclone-force winds hammering at her side. She dug her boots into the floor, forcing herself forward against the pressure, but Red Torpedo's next strike caught her—water shaping into a dense spear, hitting with enough force to crack reinforced plating. She dropped low and spun, both palms forward. Twin Starbolts ripped into Red Torpedo's chest, the ultraviolet energy melting part of his armor and sending him stumbling back. Red Inferno was on her again, launching a torrent of fire. Kori resisted the heat, darted through the flames, and drove her knee into the android's midsection. Metal groaned under the impact. Her follow-up punch smashed into Red Inferno's faceplate, warping it. The android reeled—half-blind, one arm sparking where servos had snapped. Kori went to press the attack—only for Red Tornado to slam into her from above, both fists driving her into the floor. Wind howled, pinning her there. She strained against it, muscles burning, every fiber in her body fighting to rise. Red Torpedo added his weight—water lashing around her limbs, constricting like iron chains. For the first time, she felt her movements stall completely. They were trying to hold her down, keep her from fighting back. Her eyes narrowed. She channeled the heat differently this time—not to her hands, but higher. Bright green light blazed from her eyes, twin Starbolts lancing out and blasting into Red Torpedo's chest. The force knocked him away, armor sizzling from the impact. The sudden jolt broke Red Tornado's grip enough for her to twist free. She burst upward, slamming both fists—Starbolts flaring—into his torso. Even holding back, the concussive blast tore part of his plating open, exposing flickers of inner circuitry. She didn't have time to finish it. Red Inferno, struggling but still functional, hurled a last, desperate stream of fire. Kori caught her by the wrist mid-strike, twisted hard, and snapped the arm at the joint. The limb dangled uselessly. Red Inferno's systems stuttered, sparks trailing from the ruined arm and dented chest. They were breaking. And then Red Tornado's voice cut through the din—calm, precise, and dangerous. "Stop... or they suffocate." Her head turned. A new cyclone was forming—centered on the unconscious bodies of her team. The air was thinning further. Kori's teeth clenched. She could end this—cripple all three—but not without risking the lives on the floor. Red Torpedo staggered toward Red Inferno, lifting the damaged android in his arms. Both showed burns and dents from her strikes. Tornado himself had half his chestplate scorched, vents along his shoulders hissing. The three moved towards a Zeta Tube. Kori stayed rooted, fury in her eyes, hands still burning with energy—but she didn't move. The cyclone died down. The Justice League Computer's voice announced their departure, one after another. Then the hangar was silent but for the faint hum of damaged systems and the distant hiss of water still draining. Kori exhaled slowly, turning toward her team. They were alive. That was enough—for now.

Chapter 149: 149

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