The Bio-Ship cut through the night air like a living shadow, its organic hull rippling with each gust of wind as it approached the Happy Harbor power plant. The facility sprawled across the coastline, its industrial towers and cooling stacks silhouetted against the churning sky like mechanical giants. Yellow sodium lights carved harsh geometric patterns through the darkness, but it was the storm above that commanded attention.
Hadrian stood near the ship's observation window, one hand braced against the curved wall as he studied the meteorological nightmare overhead. His emerald eyes reflected the lightning that danced between the clouds, and a slow smile spread across his face—the kind of expression that suggested he found the whole situation more entertaining than concerning.
"Well, well," he drawled, his voice carrying that distinctive mix of confidence and barely contained amusement that made people either want to follow him or punch him. "Someone's been busy playing God with the weather. I have to admit, I'm almost impressed by the sheer audacity."
Neville moved to stand beside him, his pale green eyes analyzing the storm with the methodical precision of someone who understood atmospheric dynamics better than most meteorologists. Where Hadrian was all casual arrogance, Neville was focused intensity, his dark hair slightly disheveled from the turbulence.
"Audacity isn't the word I'd use," Neville said, his voice carrying the weight of someone who'd seen enough magical disasters to know when things were about to go sideways. "Those cloud formations... they're not just unnatural, they're actively feeding off themselves. Whatever's generating this has access to serious power."
"Feeding off themselves?" Roslyn looked up from where she'd been monitoring the ship's instruments, her eyes bright with curiosity despite the circumstances. She had that quality of making even the most dangerous situations seem manageable through sheer competence and optimism. "That's... actually really concerning. Natural weather systems don't work that way."
"Nothing about this is natural," Zatanna Zatara muttered from her position near the ship's center, her dark eyes fixed on the storm with an expression that suggested she was seeing things the others couldn't. As Enchantress, she had a connection to magical forces that made her acutely aware when they were being manipulated. "Someone's using weather magic on a scale I've never seen before. The amount of energy required..."
She trailed off, shaking her head.
"Energy schmergy," Wally West—Kid Flash—called out from where he was practically vibrating with nervous energy near the ship's rear. His red hair was even more disheveled than usual, and his green eyes sparkled with the kind of manic enthusiasm that suggested he was either about to do something brilliant or catastrophically stupid. "I mean, yeah, it's a big scary storm, but we've got powers too, right? How hard can it be?"
"Famous last words," Donna Troy—Troia—said dryly, her dark eyes fixed on the storm with the kind of wariness that came from experience. She stood with the balanced grace of someone who'd been trained in combat since childhood, her black hair pulled back in a practical ponytail. "I swear, if I had a dollar for every time someone said 'how hard can it be' right before everything went to hell..."
"You'd have enough money to buy your own island and never have to deal with weather-controlling supervillains again?" Kara Zor-El—Supergirl—suggested with a grin that was equal parts innocent and mischievous. Her blonde hair seemed to catch every available light source, and her blue eyes sparkled with the kind of confidence that came from knowing you were nearly invulnerable. "Because honestly, that sounds like a pretty good retirement plan."
"Can we focus, please?" Kaldur'ahm—Aqualad—said, his voice carrying the calm authority of someone who'd been leading teams in dangerous situations for years. His dark skin seemed to absorb the ship's ambient light, and his brown eyes held the kind of steady confidence that made people want to follow his lead. "Megan, what's our approach looking like?"
Megan Morse—Miss Martian—was hunched over the ship's bio-neural interface, her green skin slightly flushed with concentration as she mentally guided their approach. Her red hair fell in soft waves around her face, and when she looked up, her brown eyes held a mixture of determination and concern.
"It's... challenging," she admitted, her voice slightly strained. "The storm's creating some serious wind shear, and the electromagnetic interference is making it hard to maintain a stable approach vector. But I can get us down."
"Define 'down,'" Jessica Cruz—Green Lantern—said nervously, her ring glowing softly as she unconsciously began constructing protective barriers around the ship. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and her brown eyes showed the kind of controlled anxiety that came from someone who'd learned to channel fear into focus. "Because I'm getting some seriously bad vibes from this whole situation."
"Down as in 'on the ground in one piece,'" Megan replied, then paused. "Probably."
"Probably?" Wally's voice cracked slightly. "Did she just say probably?"
"I heard probably," Donna confirmed grimly.
"Oh, come on," Hadrian said, his grin widening as he pushed off from the wall and moved toward the center of the ship. "Where's your sense of adventure? A little atmospheric turbulence never hurt anyone."
"That's not true at all," Neville said flatly. "Atmospheric turbulence has actually hurt quite a lot of people. That's why we have entire government agencies dedicated to tracking it."
"You're both missing the point," Robin—Dick Grayson—said from where he'd been silently studying tactical displays near the ship's front. His dark hair fell across his face in a way that made it hard to read his expression, but his voice carried the kind of analytical precision that came from years of training with the Batman. "The storm isn't random. Look at the pattern."
Everyone turned to where he was pointing at a holographic display showing the storm's structure.
"It's centered directly over the power plant," Robin continued. "This isn't just someone playing with weather magic—this is someone using the plant's electrical output to amplify their abilities. They're turning the entire facility into a massive magical focus."
"Well, that's just fantastic," Conner Kent—Superboy—muttered from his position near the ship's rear, his arms crossed over his chest in a way that emphasized his considerable build. His dark hair was slightly mussed, and his blue eyes held the kind of frustrated intensity that suggested he'd rather be punching something than discussing magical theory. "So we're flying into a storm that's being powered by a nuclear reactor. What could possibly go wrong?"
"It's not nuclear," Roslyn corrected automatically. "Happy Harbor runs on natural gas and coal. But your point stands—they're using the plant's electrical grid to amplify whatever magic they're channeling."
"Which means," Zatanna said slowly, her expression growing more concerned, "that whoever's doing this has access to both significant magical knowledge and the technical expertise to interface with modern electrical systems. That's... a very specific skill set."
"Great," Wally said, his voice rising slightly. "So we're dealing with magical electrical engineers. Why can't we ever fight normal bad guys? Like, bank robbers or something?"
"Bank robbers don't try to destroy coastal infrastructure with weaponized weather," Kaldur pointed out.
"Exactly! See how much simpler that would be?"
Before anyone could respond, the ship suddenly lurched violently to the left as a massive gust of wind caught them broadside. The lights flickered, and several team members had to grab onto nearby surfaces to avoid being thrown across the cabin.
"Okay, that's it," Megan said, her jaw setting with determination. "Everyone hold on. We're going in."
"Define 'going in,'" Jessica said nervously.
"Fast and hard," Megan replied, her hands dancing over the bio-neural interface. "The storm's got a relatively calm eye right over the plant. If I can punch through the wall..."
"You want to fly us into a tornado?" Donna asked incredulously.
"It's the only way through," Megan said, her voice gaining confidence. "The Bio-Ship can handle it, and once we're in the eye, we should have clear air all the way to the landing zone."
"Should have," Wally repeated. "She said should have. Why does everyone keep using words like 'probably' and 'should have' when we're talking about not dying?"
"Because absolute certainty is a luxury we don't have," Kaldur said calmly. "Megan, do it."
"Everyone brace yourselves," Megan warned, then pushed the ship forward into the storm wall.
The world outside exploded into chaos. Wind howled around them like a living thing, and the ship's hull groaned under the pressure as they were caught in the tornado's grip. Lightning flashed continuously, turning the interior of the ship into a strobe-lit nightmare of spinning shadows and panicked faces.
"This is insane!" Wally shouted over the noise, his knuckles white as he gripped a support beam. "Why did we think this was a good idea?"
"Because we're heroes!" Kara called back, her voice somehow managing to sound cheerful despite the circumstances. "This is what we do!"
"I'm starting to think we need better career counseling!" Wally replied.
"Less talking, more holding on!" Donna commanded, her own voice strained as she fought to maintain her position.
Hadrian, meanwhile, seemed to be enjoying himself. Despite the chaos, he'd managed to maintain his casual posture, one hand braced against the wall while the other ran through his hair. His emerald eyes were bright with excitement, and his grin had only gotten wider.
"Now this is what I call a proper entrance," he said, his voice carrying clearly despite the wind. "Dramatic, dangerous, and guaranteed to get everyone's attention."
"Your idea of fun is seriously disturbing," Donna shot back.
"Thank you," Hadrian replied smoothly. "I do try to maintain certain standards."
The ship spun wildly, and for a moment it felt like they were going to be torn apart by the sheer force of the wind. Then, suddenly, they broke through into the eye of the storm.
The silence was almost deafening after the chaos of the wind wall. Outside, they could see the storm raging around them in a perfect circle, but inside the eye, the air was still and clear. The Happy Harbor power plant spread out below them, its lights creating a geometric pattern against the darkness.
"Well," Roslyn said, her voice slightly breathless, "that was... educational."
"Educational is one word for it," Neville said grimly, his pale green eyes scanning the facility below. "Look at the power distribution pattern. Someone's definitely been modifying the electrical grid."
"Can you tell how?" Robin asked, moving to look over Neville's shoulder at the readings.
"Not from here," Neville replied. "But I'm seeing some seriously unusual energy signatures. Whatever they're doing, they're drawing power from multiple sources and channeling it into... something."
"Something magical," Zatanna added, her voice tight with concentration. "I can feel it from here. It's like... it's like someone's trying to tear a hole in reality itself."
"That doesn't sound good," Jessica said, her ring glowing brighter as her anxiety spiked.
"It's not," Zatanna confirmed. "Whatever they're planning, we need to stop it before—"
She was cut off as the ship suddenly shuddered and began to descend rapidly.
"What's happening?" Kaldur asked, his voice sharp with concern.
"The eye's contracting," Megan said, her voice strained as she fought to maintain control. "Whatever's powering the storm, it's pulling us down. I can barely keep us stable."
"Then don't," Hadrian said, his grin taking on a slightly manic edge. "Put us down fast and hard. Sometimes the best way through a problem is straight at it."
"That's terrible advice," Donna said.
"But it's also probably our only option," Kaldur said grimly. "Megan, can you get us to the landing zone?"
"Maybe," Megan said, then caught herself. "Yes. I can do this."
The ship dropped like a stone, the facility rushing up to meet them with alarming speed. At the last possible moment, Megan pulled up, the Bio-Ship's hull scraping against the concrete as they landed hard in the plant's main courtyard.
When the dust settled, they were down, alive, and more or less in one piece.
"Okay," Wally said, his voice slightly shaky as he stood up. "That was officially the worst landing ever."
"We're alive," Kara pointed out cheerfully. "That makes it a successful landing in my book."
"Your book has very low standards," Donna muttered.
"Thank you," Kara replied brightly.
As they began to disembark, Kaldur moved to the ship's exit, his expression serious as he looked out at the storm-shrouded facility.
"Remember," he said, his voice carrying the weight of command, "we don't know what we're dealing with here. Stay alert, stay together, and—"
He stopped, frowning.
"Where's Robin?"
Everyone turned to look at where Robin had been standing just moments before. The space was empty.
"Oh, for the love of—" Donna began.
"He's gone," Conner said flatly. "Of course he's gone. Because why would we want to stick together when we're facing unknown magical threats?"
"He probably went ahead to scout," Neville said, though his tone suggested he didn't entirely believe it.
"He went ahead because he's Robin," Hadrian said, his grin returning. "Sneaky, impulsive, and absolutely convinced he can handle whatever's waiting for us better than we can. I have to admire the confidence."
"I have to question the judgment," Donna replied.
"Both can be true," Kaldur said, his voice carrying a note of resigned frustration. "But it doesn't change our mission. We find out who's controlling the storm, we stop them, and we try to keep Robin from getting himself killed in the process."
"In that order?" Wally asked.
"Preferably simultaneously," Kaldur replied.
As they prepared to leave the ship, the storm continued to rage around them, lightning illuminating the industrial landscape in harsh, flickering light. Somewhere in the facility, someone was wielding power that could reshape the weather itself, and Robin was already moving toward them alone.
"Well," Roslyn said, checking her equipment one last time, "at least it's not boring."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Jessica muttered.
But as they stepped out into the storm-lashed night, each of them felt the familiar rush of adrenaline that came with walking into danger. Whatever was waiting for them in the Happy Harbor power plant, they would face it together.
Well, mostly together. Assuming they could find Robin before he got himself into trouble.
Which, knowing Robin, was probably a very big assumption.
—
The turbines' mechanical roar created a symphony of industrial power that seemed to shake the very foundations of the facility. Deep within the main reactor chamber, the sound was amplified tenfold, creating a bone-deep vibration that made the air itself seem to pulse with raw energy.
Robin crouched low on the maintenance catwalk, his smaller frame allowing him to move through the shadows with practiced stealth. His domino mask caught the occasional flicker of the unnatural lightning below, and his dark hair was slightly damp with condensation from the superheated air. Every instinct Batman had drilled into him screamed that this was a trap, but he pushed forward anyway—information was critical, and someone had to take the risk.
Below him, the reactor floor had been transformed into something that belonged more in an ancient temple than a modern power facility. Intricate magical sigils covered every available surface, etched deep into the concrete and metal with geometric precision. Lightning—real, honest-to-god lightning—danced between the massive generators in patterns that defied physics, feeding into the glowing symbols with a rhythm that matched the storm's fury outside.
"This is insane," Robin muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the mechanical din. He pressed two fingers to his comm unit, the small device crackling with static interference from the electrical chaos below. "Bio-Ship team, I've got eyes on something big. Magical glyphwork covering the entire plant floor. This guy's not just controlling the weather—he's turned the whole facility into some kind of mystical amplifier. I'm seeing power readings that shouldn't be possible with conventional—"
The words died in his throat as the air behind him suddenly shifted, pressure dropping so rapidly his ears popped. A blast of wind hit him with the force of a freight train, lifting him clean off his feet and hurling him across the catwalk like a rag doll. His comm unit went flying, shattering against the far wall as he skidded hard into the safety railing, the metal groaning under the impact.
Pain shot through his ribs as he rolled to a stop, his vision swimming from the impact. But even through the haze, he could hear it—low, cold laughter that seemed to echo from every surface of the chamber, carrying with it the promise of violence.
"You're not even worth the breeze it took to knock you down," came a voice that sounded like thunder given form—deep, mocking, and filled with the kind of casual disdain that suggested its owner had never encountered anything resembling a fair fight.
Robin forced himself to his feet, his hand already moving to his utility belt. A batarang appeared in his grip as if by magic, the familiar weight grounding him despite the chaos swirling around the chamber. Blood trickled from a cut on his forehead, but his eyes were sharp and focused.
From the shadows at the far end of the chamber, a figure emerged that seemed to be carved from the storm itself. Mister Twister stood nearly seven feet tall, his frame encased in jagged bronze-and-black armor that looked like it had been forged from lightning and nightmares. Wind swirled around him in a constant cyclone, forming a cloak that moved with its own malevolent life. His eyes burned with white-hot energy, and when he spoke, his voice carried the weight of hurricanes.
"They send children to face me?" Mister Twister sneered, his form seeming to flicker between solid matter and pure elemental fury. "Pathetic. I am the harbinger of storms, the master of wind and lightning. Where is your precious Justice League now, little bird?"
Robin's jaw tightened, but before he could deliver the sarcastic comeback that was already forming on his lips, the chamber's main entrance exploded inward. The reinforced steel doors were torn from their hinges as if they were made of paper, and through the opening came the rest of the team in a display of coordinated power that would have been impressive if it weren't so desperately needed.
"Robin!" Kaldur's voice cut through the chaos with commanding authority, his dark eyes immediately assessing the tactical situation as he led the team into the chamber. His water-bearers were already in his hands, glowing with Atlantean magic as he moved with fluid grace.
Wally West materialized beside Robin in a streak of red and gold, his sneakers skidding on the wet metal as he came to a stop. His green eyes were wide with concern as he quickly looked his teammate over, his usual cocky grin replaced by genuine worry.
"You okay, bro?" Wally asked, his voice tight with anxiety. "Oh man, don't tell me tornado boy already broke you before we even got here. Because that would be really embarrassing, and I'd have to spend the rest of the fight making fun of you to maintain team morale."
"I'm fine," Robin gritted out, already spinning another batarang between his fingers with practiced ease. "But he talks too much. That's supposed to be your specialty."
"Hey, I don't talk too much," Wally shot back, his grin returning as adrenaline began to override concern. "I talk exactly the right amount. It's everyone else who doesn't talk enough."
"You're both missing the point," Donna Troy said dryly, her voice carrying the kind of exasperated affection that came from months of dealing with teenage superhero banter. She stepped forward, her lasso already glowing with divine energy at her hip, dark hair pulled back in a practical ponytail that somehow still managed to look effortlessly stylish. "We've got a weather-controlling megalomaniac throwing lightning around a nuclear facility. Maybe we could focus on that?"
"It's not nuclear," Roslyn corrected automatically, her eyes scanning the magical sigils with professional interest. "Natural gas and coal, with some hydroelectric backup. But the principle stands—this is a really bad place for a super-powered fight."
Mister Twister's burning gaze swept over the assembled team, his expression shifting from disdain to something approaching genuine offense. Lightning crackled around his armor as he spread his arms wide, the storm outside responding to his movements with renewed fury.
"More children," he spat, his voice rising to match the wind's howl. "I asked for warriors—heroes worthy of my power. Instead they send me... what? A collection of teenagers playing dress-up? This is what passes for the next generation of heroes?"
"Somebody needs a serious lesson in manners," Donna muttered, her fingers tightening on her lasso as divine energy began to pulse along its length.
"And maybe a lesson in counting," Kara Zor-El added cheerfully, floating a few inches off the ground as her cape snapped in the supernatural wind. Her blonde hair seemed to glow with its own inner light, and her blue eyes sparkled with the kind of confidence that came from knowing you were functionally invulnerable. "Because I'm pretty sure we outnumber him."
"Numbers don't matter when you're facing the power of the storm itself," Mister Twister replied, his white eyes flashing with contempt. "I've stood against the Justice League's finest. What makes you think a group of sidekicks and wannabes can succeed where they failed?"
"Maybe because we're not playing by the same rules," Hadrian said, his voice cutting through the chaos with surprising calm. He stepped forward with deliberate grace, his emerald eyes bright with challenge and something that might have been anticipation. His black and red uniform seemed to absorb the chaotic lighting around them, and when he smiled, it was the kind of expression that suggested he'd found something genuinely entertaining.
"You dare speak to me that way?" Mister Twister demanded, his storm cloak stuttering slightly as he focused on the tall figure before him.
"Not just dare," Hadrian replied, his smile widening to show teeth. "Promise. See, here's the thing about storms—they're loud, they're dramatic, and they make a lot of noise. But in the end, they're just weather. And weather..." He paused, letting solar energy begin to radiate from his skin in gentle waves. "Weather bows to the sun."
"Big words from someone who's never faced a real storm," Mister Twister snarled, wind beginning to whip around him with increasing violence.
"Actually," Neville Longbottom said, stepping up to flank Hadrian, his pale green eyes dark with controlled fury, "I think you're about to find out what a real storm looks like."
As he spoke, sparks of magical energy began to dance around his hands, but these weren't the chaotic displays of raw power that most magic users favored. This was precise, controlled energy that spoke of years of study and practice. The air around him began to shimmer with heat distortion, and when he moved, it was with the kind of confident power that came from knowing exactly what you were capable of.
"You want to throw wind around?" Neville continued, his voice carrying the weight of someone who'd faced down dark wizards and lived to tell the tale. "Fine. But I've been controlling the elements since before you figured out how to make your first tornado. This should be educational."
Roslyn moved to complete the triangle, golden light already radiating from her hands in complex patterns that seemed to bend the chaotic energy around them into more manageable forms. Her expression was focused but not worried—the look of someone who'd studied the theoretical aspects of exactly this kind of situation.
"The energy matrices are fascinating," she said, her voice carrying genuine academic interest despite the circumstances. "But you're channeling raw power through damaged infrastructure. That's incredibly unstable. One wrong move and this whole place could—"
"Could what?" Mister Twister interrupted, his voice dripping with contempt. "Explode? Collapse? You think the threat of collateral damage will make me hesitate? I am the storm incarnate! I am—"
"Boring," Zatanna Zatara finished, her dark eyes rolling as she began weaving complex magical patterns in the air. "Seriously, do all megalomaniacs go to the same school for dramatic monologues? Because the curriculum needs work."
Jessica Cruz stepped up beside her, emerald constructs already forming around her hands as she fought to control the anxiety that always came with these situations. Her ring pulsed with steady green light, and when she spoke, her voice was stronger than she felt.
"You know what?" Jessica said, her constructs solidifying into protective barriers around the team. "I'm tired of being scared of guys like you. You're just another bully with fancy powers, and I've had enough of bullies for one lifetime."
"Children," Mister Twister spat again, his eyes flashing white-hot with rage. "All of you. Playthings sent to die in my winds. I asked for the Justice League... and they send me children!"
Lightning struck the floor in front of him with a deafening crack, leaving a blackened crater in the concrete. The smell of ozone filled the air, and the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees in seconds.
The team didn't flinch.
Hadrian tilted his head, his smile taking on a sharper edge as solar energy began to pulse more brightly around him. "You know what your problem is?" he asked, his voice carrying the kind of casual confidence that suggested he'd never met a problem he couldn't solve with sufficient application of force. "You're thinking like a storm. All noise and fury, signifying nothing. But we're not weather patterns—we're heroes. And heroes don't break."
"Speak for yourself," Wally muttered, still vibrating with nervous energy. "I break all the time. Usually right after I say something stupid and charge headfirst into danger."
"Which is exactly what you're about to do, isn't it?" Donna asked with resigned affection.
"Probably," Wally admitted with a grin that was equal parts embarrassed and excited. "I mean, it's worked out okay so far."
"Define 'okay,'" Conner Kent said dryly, his own massive frame radiating the kind of barely contained power that came from Kryptonian genetics and a lifetime of holding back. His dark hair was slightly mussed from the wind, and his blue eyes held the frustrated intensity of someone who'd rather be punching something than talking about it.
"Still breathing, still fighting, still looking good while doing it," Wally replied without missing a beat. "What more do you want?"
"A plan that doesn't involve you getting thrown through another window would be nice," Kaldur said, his water-bearers beginning to glow more brightly as Atlantean magic responded to his growing focus.
"Where's the fun in that?" Wally asked, already beginning to vibrate in place as his speed force connection built toward critical mass.
"There's no fun in it," Kaldur replied patiently. "That's the point. We're trying to stop a dangerous criminal, not entertain ourselves."
"Why can't we do both?" Kara asked brightly, cracking her knuckles as she prepared for battle. "I mean, if we're going to save the world, we might as well enjoy it."
"Because," Megan Morse said, her voice carrying the weight of someone who'd been trying to hold a team of powered teenagers together for months, "enjoying ourselves tends to lead to property damage. And property damage leads to paperwork. And I hate paperwork."
"Fair point," Hadrian acknowledged, though his grin suggested he wasn't particularly concerned about paperwork at the moment. "But you have to admit, this is going to be epic."
"Epic disaster, maybe," Donna muttered, but she was already moving into position, her lasso crackling with divine energy.
"That's the spirit," Hadrian said approvingly.
Mister Twister's patience finally snapped. With a roar that shook the entire chamber, he raised his arms skyward, and the storm outside responded with renewed fury. Lightning began striking the facility's lightning rods in rapid succession, each bolt feeding more power into the magical sigils that covered every surface.
"ENOUGH!" he bellowed, his voice carrying the weight of hurricane-force winds. "You want to see what real power looks like? You want to face the storm itself? Then come! Show me what you think you are!"
The air in the chamber thickened with raw elemental energy as both sides prepared for battle. Kryptonian hybrid power crackled on one side, Atlantean magic pulsed on another, Lantern constructs flared to life in brilliant emerald displays, and pure teenage determination sparked in every corner of the room.
"Team," Kaldur said, his voice cutting through the chaos with quiet authority, "Formation Delta. Take him down."
"Finally," Wally said, his grin widening as he prepared to charge. "I was starting to think we were going to talk him to death."
"That's still an option," Zatanna said dryly, her hands weaving increasingly complex patterns as she prepared her own magical assault. "I know some really boring stories."
"Save it for the after-action report," Donna replied, her lasso spinning as she prepared to enter the fray.
The team moved as one, their months of training and shared experiences allowing them to coordinate without conscious thought. Hadrian launched himself forward with a burst of solar-enhanced speed, his fists already glowing with concentrated energy. Kara followed a split second later, her cape streaming behind her as she moved with Kryptonian grace. Neville and Roslyn flanked wide, their magical and Kryptonian abilities creating a complex web of energy patterns that began to interfere with Mister Twister's control over the storm.
"FOR THE WIND!" Mister Twister roared, his arms spreading wide as he unleashed the full fury of his power.
The battle was joined with a sound like the world ending, and in the heart of the storm, heroes and villain clashed with the kind of fury that would be remembered for generations—assuming any of them survived to tell the tale.
Above them, the storm raged on, but inside the chamber, something new was being born: the moment when a team of young heroes stopped being students and became legends.
---
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