Chapter 23 - Pacific Rim

                                    

                                          
***KARA***
                          
Maybe it's just another symptom of musical dysplasia, but I can keep tunes in my head for a long, long time. So I've got one playing as I fly after the phony Luthor commandos, ready to punch them all down. The theme from Pacific Rim. It's Barry's favorite movie theme song ever. Don't tell anyone else, especially Cisco, who'll cut you if you dare malign his beloved Back To The Future theme in any way.
                          
The good news is, all these commandos (as opposed to, say, the ones we fought on that rooftop) are some kind of cyborg, not showing any life signs that I can see other than mechanical. And the kryptonite badges on their chests are all fake, an attempt to scare me into staying away from them. Sorry, Luthor, but it's not working.
                          
Down, down, down these fake commandos go. From one end, it's from me punching them, and from the other end, it's Diana doing the punching. I think Barry's standing back, trying to get Conner to wake the hell up.
                          
All the commandos, to a man, fall under the combined onslaughts of Supergirl and Wonder Woman. Not to toot my own horn, but...
                          
"Kara!" I hear Barry run up to me, still carrying Conner - he's got him slung over his shoulders, like a fireman's carry. (Wasn't Barry's suit originally designed as next-gen firefighting equipment too?) "Take Conner and get out of here!"
                          
"Why, what's...?" Then I see Luthor himself stepping slowly across the field, the genuine kryptonite in his lapel pin causing me a pinprick of pain even from a distance of fifty yards. No need to tell me twice - I take Conner from Barry and fly him out of the stadium.
                          
Upon landing on the far side, away from all the crowds, I stand him on his feet, but I don't let go of him. He's looking a little too out of it, still. But the music seems to be leaving his head, and he's finally starting to rejoin the land of the living.
                          
"Don't tell me..." he whispers. "Did I get...did I get infected?"
                          
"We got infected." I hug him tightly. "But we're getting past that now, so don't worry. If there's any more enemies-"
                          
"You mean like that guy?" He points up at the sky, where a distant figure streaks through the air, parting the clouds.
                          
I tilt my head and focus my vision until I figure out who he is. "Wait a minute...isn't he on the other side of town?"
                          
"That's not our Clark," says Conner. "It's...it's the one from this world. The one they always told me was...well, he's not really evil, is he? That's only what Luthor kept saying." He shields his eyes so he can get a better glimpse too. "Yeah, that's the other Clark. Looks a little different, but he's the real deal."
                          
I can't help but smile at the sight of his bright blue suit and red cape as this other Clark lands next to us. "Sorry I'm late," he says with a grin of his own. "Lois Lane kept trying to hold me up back home. Lesson learned, kids - never work with the ex. Ever. It's unhealthy." He looks at us one by one. "So you're...Supergirl and Superboy?"
                          
"Yeah..." Conner says warily.
                          
"How'd you know to come here?" I ask.
                          
"When your phone nearly goes nuclear from all the social-media buzz about hashtag #CentralCityChaos, you kinda have to drop everything and run." Clark-2 tilts his head at the sky. "Or, in my case, 'fly,' as it were."
                          
"Yeah. Right." Conner scratches his neck. "So, uh, brother from another universe, since you're here, why don't you help us stop those commandos coming in from all sides, huh?"
                          
It's not exactly "all sides," but Conner's not wrong - there are more black-suited commandos coming at us from the nearby parking lot, where they're spilling out of trucks with conspicuous LuthorCorp logos splashed on the sides. "I mean, really?" I ask, cracking my knuckles.
                          
Clark-2 shakes his head. "I dunno about the Luthors you've got in your world, but mine is terribly unimaginative at the best of times."
                          
"Did you know we were from another world already?" I ask.
                          
"Believe me, I only wish I had a brother and cousin, but in this universe, I wasn't so lucky." Clark crouches, getting ready to take off running like Barry tends to do. It looks a little awkward because he's a lot more top-heavy than Barry, with his extra-broad shoulders. But he speeds off like a bullet all the same, and I follow suit, with Conner right behind me.
                          
Between the three of us, we have no trouble taking down the majority of this wave of commandos - who are all as fake and robotic as the ones Diana and I just took down in the stadium.
                          
The majority.
                          
But not all.
                          
Because some of these commandos aren't fake, and those that aren't have kryptonite gauntlets to keep us all at bay.
                          
Foolishly, however, Conner and I both ignore Clark-2's cries for us to stay back and try to take them on ourselves, because everyone else who can help us is otherwise occupied.
                          
It's only when they break out the stun guns that I snap out of my reckless haze and try to push Conner out of the way. Whatever's in those stun guns, however, is a little stronger than normal, maybe even kryptonite-enhanced, possibly. It dazes me, the shock, and Conner's even worse off, twitching violently and retching until his breakfast flies all over the pavement.
                          
That's when Clark-2 steps in, but the stun-gun guy gets him too, and shoots him full of high voltage no less than five times to keep him down.
                          
I struggle to my feet, wobbling in my boots, but it's too late for Conner.
                          
They've got him, now pale and clammy and still twitching, and they're throwing him bodily into the truck, which takes off the second they close the door on him.