Shadowflame

There I was, trying not to strangle myself with an overly expensive tie, while Kara, who had apparently appointed herself Commander of Looking Impossibly Impressive, frowned at me like I'd just failed Prince 101. "Harry," she said, dead serious. "Today is not just any summit. You're representing Themyscira. You get that, right?"

"Oh, I totally get it," I muttered, tugging at the tie yet again. "It's not like this isn't the fourth time you've mentioned it."

Kori floated in from the other side of the room, her expression somewhere between pure sunshine and total adoration. If happiness could be bottled, Kori would be running a one-woman monopoly on it. "Oh, Harry! You look like such a bumgorf!" She clapped her hands, practically glowing with joy. "The Queen and Mother Diana would be so pleased!"

Kara snickered. "She means you look princely."

I glanced in the mirror, tugging at the sleeves. "More like a high-budget action figure. Seriously, how do I look like an actual prince when I feel like I can't even move in this thing?"

"Oh!" Kori's eyes went wide with worry. "Is it too much the…lobstery?"

I barely kept a straight face. "Not lobstery at all. Just… princely. I guess."

Kara, though, was on a mission. "Well, princely or not, you'll have to get used to it, because it's not just the UN you're seeing. You'll also get to see Mareena again."

Right. Mareena. The stunning Princess of Atlantis, daughter of Aquaman and Mera, whose smile had floored me last night. And, as if that hadn't been bad enough, Robin decided to broadcast the dance footage for all of my friends to see. They hadn't stopped smirking since.

"Oh yes!" Kori clapped her hands, looking like she was about to burst. "It was like one of the great Tamaranean shlorvaks! You and Mareena, spinning together under the lights—so much the swooning!"

I felt my face go hot. "Yeah, nothing says 'romance' like a thousand people staring at you."

"But on Tamaran," Kori said earnestly, her eyes bright, "we celebrate love by throwing it over the fence for all to see!"

Kara smirked. "Harry's more of a 'keep it private' type, Kori."

"Oh, I understand!" Kori looked at me solemnly. "Then, I shall be sending you much G'lufnog." (Apparently that's Tamaranean for "bless you"—except not really, because it also means something like "I wish you luck with your secretive human shlorvak business.")

I tried to keep my cool, but it was impossible not to smile at that. Kori's version of Earth customs was about 50% sweet and 50% "please explain what you just said." She reached out and gave me a big, well-meaning smile. "Go forth, Harry, and be the most grand of princely for the Mareena and the United Nations. May all of your feelings for the political agenda be… muchly respected."

With Kara on one side and Kori on the other, we headed for the Zeta Tube, off to impress a whole room of world leaders. I couldn't help but grin. With these two at my side, I felt like I might actually pull it off. Or, at least, survive with my dignity mostly intact.

—

Clark Kent was adjusting his glasses for what felt like the billionth time. Seriously, he was pretty sure they were straight to begin with, but anxiety has a way of making even the most mundane objects seem off-kilter. Beside him stood Lois Lane, exuding confidence as she rifled through her notes like she was cramming for the biggest pop quiz of her life. They were covering the UN Summit—a big deal, even in a world filled with superheroes and intergalactic threats.

"Hey, Smallville," Lois said, glancing up with a raised eyebrow that could probably intimidate even a Kryptonian. "You good? Because if you keep adjusting those glasses, I'm going to start thinking you're more nervous about this than you would be on our wedding day."

Clark chuckled, trying to shake off his nerves. "I'm fine! Just—this is huge, you know? I mean, history could be made today. We're witnessing the future of diplomacy right here!"

Lois smirked, crossing her arms. "Right. Or you're just hoping Wonder Woman will pull a stunt worthy of a front-page headline. You can finally talk to her as a professional reporter instead of the 'I'm Superman' guy who trips over his own words."

"Hey, I'm not just a superhero. I'm a professional superhero." Clark grinned, nudging her. "And I have the best partner in the world right here."

But deep down, he had no clue that lurking in the back of his mind was Trigon, an evil demon lord biding his time. To Clark, everything seemed normal—well, as normal as a UN Summit could be—but for Trigon? This gathering was like a buffet of chaos just waiting to happen.

From his shadowy hideout in Clark's psyche, Trigon assessed the power players around the room. Politicians, diplomats, future rulers—all ripe for manipulation. A tiny seed of insecurity here, a little flash of anger there, and soon he could turn these influential figures into his unwitting minions. They'd spread his influence across nations without even realizing it. Classic evil overlord stuff.

But that moment hadn't arrived yet. For now, he was content to hang back, masquerading behind Clark's friendly smile while plotting his takeover. Meanwhile, Clark was blissfully unaware, simply trying to focus on the task at hand: not getting overshadowed by the fact that Wonder Woman was probably in the same building.

Lois squeezed his hand, snapping him back to reality. "Come on, Kent. Let's go make some history."

Clark nodded, dismissing Trigon's dark presence from his mind. He had no idea that history was already being written, and it wasn't the feel-good story he was hoping for. Nope, this was shaping up to be more of a supernatural thriller with an emphasis on dark comedy—perfect for a front-page headline, just not the one Clark had in mind.

—

So, walking into the UN Summit felt like stepping onto a reality show where everyone's way too serious, the lights are brighter than the sun, and you're supposed to act like you actually know what you're doing. Which, spoiler alert: I absolutely did not. But hey, I had a fancy suit, an entourage, and a title (sort of), so maybe I could bluff my way through it. Also, no pressure. It's not like the world was watching.

Behind me were my two board-members-slash-surrogate-uncles, Sirius and Remus, each trying to look respectable, which for Sirius was about as easy as… well, convincing a dog not to chase a squirrel. He kept yanking at his tie like it was slowly strangling him (which, fair—it probably was). Remus, on the other hand, looked calm and unfazed, like he was just here for a nice day out and maybe some good coffee.

Then there was Talia, our fearless CEO. Normally, she's the type who'd rather lead a mission into enemy territory than sit through a shareholder meeting, but here she was, rocking the whole "business mogul" thing so well she could probably terrify a boardroom just by saying "Good morning."

And then I saw her.

Mareena, Princess of Atlantis. Let me tell you, she didn't just enter the room; she made everyone else look like they were just props in her movie. She moved like she was floating—literally. She had that perfect Atlantean poise, like she could give everyone a run for their money, including all of us land-dwellers who'd just been demoted to "extras."

The second she broke away from her delegation and headed right for me, the photographers went wild. It was like someone had announced a royal wedding. Prince of Themyscira and Princess of Atlantis Meet! Tabloids, eat your hearts out. I could practically hear the headlines forming as the cameras flashed. I reminded myself not to look too much like I was about to pass out.

"Charis," she said, using my fancy prince name, and somehow making it sound ten times cooler than I ever could. "I trust you've saved a place for me today?"

Now, normally I've got a quick line or two ready—sarcasm, witty comebacks, maybe even a joke if I'm feeling generous. But Mareena smiling at me? Yeah, brain short-circuit. "Wouldn't miss it," I managed, sounding only slightly less awkward than a middle schooler at his first dance. "You know, this kind of headline doesn't come around every day."

She laughed, and I swear at least three photographers fainted from sheer happiness. Sirius leaned over and gave me a little nudge with a smirk. "Think you've got the press's attention, kid?"

"Oh, definitely," I whispered back, grinning. "I'm just wondering if we're going to make the evening news or the history books."

Mareena took my arm, and suddenly we were moving, cameras flashing like fireworks around us. And here's the thing: her perfume smelled faintly of salt and the sea, and I'm pretty sure I was turning into an absolute mush pile inside. Yep, me—the prince of Themyscira, walking side-by-side with an actual Atlantean princess. It was one of those pinch-yourself moments where you realize, Wow, this is my life.

Just as long as I could avoid tripping on my own feet or saying something incredibly awkward. But, knowing me, the universe probably had other plans.

—

So, picture this: I'm walking into the UN Summit, Mareena on my arm (yes, the Mareena), and every diplomat in the room looks at us like we're the main course. Beside me, Sirius and Remus are doing their best don't mess with us scowls, and Talia looks like she'd rather be anywhere else, probably plotting the financial takeover of a small country just to pass the time.

But as for me? I'm currently facing the biggest challenge of my life: not tripping in front of world leaders, UN diplomats, and what feels like half the global press.

The second we step in, they swarm. I mean, actual swarming. Politicians, delegates, ambassadors—I swear, even the guy who waters the plants here—all lining up to shake my hand, introduce themselves, and (hopefully) get on the good side of the "Prince of Themyscira" and "Heir to the Peverell Empire." Which, by the way, still sounds completely surreal to me.

One guy starts with, "Prince Charis, it's a great honor," like we're long-lost friends or something. Meanwhile, his hand is outstretched, practically vibrating with hope. Before I can even respond, another delegate cuts in, practically shoving the first guy aside with a smile so wide I'm convinced it's a workout for him.

"Charis," Mareena murmurs beside me, squeezing my arm slightly. "Smile. They are just excited to see you."

Oh, right, smile—definitely didn't feel like I was baring my teeth at them in a half-grimace of terror. "Excited," I whisper back. "Or about to pounce."

Sirius smirks. "Don't worry, kid. Just give them the royal treatment—smile, nod, look important."

Easy for him to say. He's not the one trying to remember twenty names per second while also avoiding the verbal minefields of diplomacy.

Remus leans in, whispering, "Just keep moving. They'll get tired eventually." He says this as he lightly maneuvers me forward, practically parting the crowd with an aura of practiced calm.

Talia, being Talia, doesn't waste a second. With one perfectly raised eyebrow and a glance that screams business first, she actually manages to get a few of the diplomats to back off, guiding us through the sea of handshakes and relentless small talk.

Meanwhile, Mareena's taking it all in stride, guiding me toward our seats like she's done this a million times. And maybe she has, given that she's a princess in her own right. "You will get used to it," she murmurs with an amused smile, clearly enjoying my plight.

Finally—finally—we reach our destination: the Atlantean and Themysciran delegations, who are watching the spectacle with barely concealed amusement. I let out a breath, hoping it's subtle enough that Mareena doesn't notice.

As I take my seat, she leans in, her voice soft. "You did well, Prince Charis. They'll be talking about you for weeks."

"Fantastic," I whisper back, half-smiling. "Just what I always wanted—UN fame."

—

In a corner of the bustling UN Summit, Clark Kent—aka Superman, aka the most undercover superhero in the room—was doing what he did best: making himself look about as intimidating as a golden retriever with a press pass. In his dorky suit and thick glasses, Clark was every bit the charming, slightly clumsy reporter. He was ready to bring the world the biggest scoop, or at least whatever Lois didn't grab first, which was most things.

Now, here's what nobody knew—not Lois, not Jimmy snapping photos like his life depended on it, and certainly not Clark himself. Inside that super brain of his was a visitor. A squatter. A metaphysical couch-surfer, if you will. And that uninvited guest just happened to be Trigon, a multi-dimensional demon who'd chosen Superman's head as his new evil HQ. Cozy, right?

And because Trigon was a classy villain (if sneaky brain-hitchhiking counts as "classy"), he wasn't making any flashy moves. Not yet. Instead, every time Clark interviewed a diplomat or shook hands with some delegate, Trigon left a teeny, tiny imprint in their minds. Just a smidge. Just enough that, over time, those diplomats would start feeling a bit… shadowy. Because what's world domination if you don't start with a well-placed Shadow Minion or two?

Meanwhile, Clark—completely oblivious to the demon's squatting arrangement—was just trying to keep up with Lois, who was currently out-interviewing every journalist in the building. She shot him a quick "better keep up, Smallville" look, which he returned with a sheepish smile. Somewhere between her eyebrow raises and Jimmy's relentless shutter-clicking, you'd think everything was just business as usual.

But it wasn't, not by a long shot. As Trigon silently chuckled from his Superman-shaped penthouse, he knew his plan was coming together. The most powerful hero in the world was his own personal carrier pigeon for chaos. And with each handshake, each friendly question, Trigon's influence crept a little closer to the top. The world was in for a rude awakening, and Superman? Well, he'd be the last to know.

—

So, there I was, trying to blend in with the high-powered politicians and royal entourages at the UN Summit—keyword "trying"—when a small human missile collided with Mareena. And by "small human missile," I mean a girl around nine years old, with huge, wide eyes and a whole lot of adorable, looking up at Mareena like she'd just seen a real-life Disney princess. Which, okay, in her defense, Mareena basically is one.

"Oh! I am terribly sorry!" the girl blurted out, her words wrapped in a thick Eastern European accent. She looked from Mareena to me, then back at Mareena, like she couldn't quite believe her luck.

Mareena, bless her oceanic heart, dropped down to the girl's level, all smiles. "No harm done," she said in that calm, princessy way she has. "What's your name?"

"Perdita," the girl replied, eyes lighting up as she grinned. "Perdita Vladek."

And that's when I realized who was about to show up: the King of Vlatava himself. Because, why not? My day was already complicated, and apparently, we needed to add "meeting kings" to the agenda. Sure enough, a tall, stern-looking man approached—King Josef Vladek, in all his royal, fatherly, "I'll stare down anyone who so much as sneezes near my kid" glory.

"Ah, there you are, Perdita." He gave her a smile—well, the closest thing a king gives to a smile. It was like watching a rock warm up in the sun. Then he looked at me and Mareena, softening his expression by maybe 0.02 percent. "I hope my daughter isn't bothering you."

"Bothering?" Mareena smiled. "More like brightening up the entire room." She gave Perdita a quick wink, and the girl practically melted with delight.

As for me? Well, I did my best to look like I totally belonged between an Atlantean princess, a king, and a miniature royal whirlwind who'd decided we were her new best friends. I gave Perdita a little wave, which she returned with that "Hey, let's be friends for life" look that only nine-year-olds can pull off convincingly.

Around us, reporters were taking a break from their usual snapping and jostling, probably because they were as stunned as I was. I mean, forget politics; this was the real spectacle—a mini princess, a king, and the whole "Are we in a Disney movie?" vibe swirling around us.

And I had a feeling this summit had just kicked off a whole new level of "interesting."

—

Walking Mareena over to the Atlantean delegation felt like leading a queen to her oceanic throne, which, in her case, was mostly accurate. She squeezed my arm in thanks and gave me a parting smile that could've melted glaciers (or, at the very least, my composure). I gave her my best "cool guy" nod, probably looked more like I had a crick in my neck, and turned to face...Themyscira.

And let me tell you, "meeting the family" is a whole different experience when it involves a warrior queen grandmother, a superhero mom, two generals, and an aunt who just lives to remind you she's "younger-but-technically-older." This is not your average family brunch. More like brunch with a side of Greek tragedy, Olympic-level martial arts, and maybe an epic poem thrown in for good measure.

I spotted Mom—Wonder Woman, a.k.a. Diana, a.k.a. "Don't Mess This Up, Charis"—flanked by Queen Hippolyta. Both of them gave me identical proud, yet suspiciously parental smiles. It's the same look you get when you're eight and trying to sneak out of bed for more ice cream. Only, in this case, it's in front of the United Nations, and there's definitely no ice cream.

Then, of course, there was Donna. Aunt Donna. My "aunt" who also happens to be younger than me, and who has this special skill of bringing up every embarrassing moment I've ever had since I first got a passport that said Prince of Themyscira on it.

"Charis," she greeted me, eyes gleaming like she knew all my secrets. "Not causing too much trouble yet?"

"Oh, you know me," I shot back, trying to sound casual. "Just a healthy amount."

Donna smirked, and I knew that look meant she was cataloging ammo for future public embarrassment. One slip-up, and I'd be the newest legend in her library of humiliating stories.

Next up in the Amazonian welcoming committee was Antiope, legendary general, and the only person whose handshake could probably break a cinderblock. I swear, she looked at me with this mix of pride and "don't embarrass us in front of the mortals," which did wonders for my confidence.

And then there was Philippus, Themyscira's other general and Queen Hippolyta's right-hand warrior. Donna leaned in and stage-whispered, "Oh, by the way, Philippus and your Grandma are a thing." I raised an eyebrow. Amazon gossip—who knew?

Just as I was contemplating how I could possibly blend in with this band of legends, Queen Hippolyta pulled me into a hug. Now, let me tell you, getting a hug from the Queen of the Amazons isn't just a hug. It's like getting a hug from a warm, terrifying bear who loves you but could also bench-press you with one arm. There's comfort and power and about a million years of wisdom in that hug, all wrapped up in a way that says, "I'm proud of you, but no pressure."

"It's good to see you, Charis," she said warmly, making me feel like, just maybe, I belonged with this squad of legendary warrior women.

And hey, maybe I did.

—

Everyone found their seats, and I had just settled in, mentally congratulating myself for surviving the diplomatic marathon of introductions, when the General Secretary of the United Nations took the stage. He was an older guy with one of those voices that somehow managed to sound both dignified and slightly bored at the same time, like he was narrating a documentary but also slightly annoyed that no one was paying attention.

"Distinguished delegates," he began, spreading his arms in a move that screamed "I know how to command a room," even if half the room was currently fidgeting or scrolling through their phones. "Today, we stand at the precipice of historic change, an opportunity to extend the hand of global cooperation to two of the world's most enigmatic and resilient nations—Atlantis and Themyscira."

He paused for dramatic effect, letting the words hang in the air like he'd just announced the arrival of the moon landing. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mareena roll her eyes slightly, and even my mom shifted in her seat, clearly bracing herself for the standard UN rhetoric to come.

"Our world has faced unparalleled challenges," he continued. "In the face of environmental threats, political upheavals, and evolving international relations, the need for united action has never been more pressing."

I glanced around, noting that most people had leaned forward. Atlantis and Themyscira had a mystique that no one could resist—two ancient powerhouses that had somehow managed to keep their secrets and strength while the rest of the world chugged along with skyscrapers, Wi-Fi, and coffee chains on every corner. Inviting them into the UN was like inviting the cool kids to join your chess club—everyone wanted to be able to say they were part of it, even if they couldn't quite figure out how it would all work out.

The Secretary was really getting into his stride now, hands sweeping through the air as he spoke. "We come together today, hoping to build a bridge of trust and understanding with these esteemed nations—nations that have thrived in ways we can only dream of, through cultures rooted deeply in history and resilience."

The cameras were flashing, journalists furiously scribbling notes, and I caught Donna giving me a wink. Meanwhile, my grandmother, Queen Hippolyta, watched with that regal patience of someone who's been to far too many "historic" meetings. This was just another Tuesday for her, really.

The Secretary cleared his throat, preparing for what was clearly going to be the big pitch. "In welcoming Atlantis and Themyscira to our United Nations, we don't simply gain new members; we gain knowledge, wisdom, and strength." He paused, leaning into the microphone, "Together, we can redefine the future."

In the silence that followed, you could feel the anticipation, like everyone was holding their breath. It was a big deal, no doubt about it. If Atlantis and Themyscira joined, the UN's dynamic would shift in ways no one could predict. It'd be like adding two new teams to the NBA who could each wipe the floor with every player there.

And there I was, son of an Amazon and sitting with the delegations everyone wanted to impress, trying to look like I hadn't just mentally checked out ten minutes ago. The show was only just beginning, and somehow, I had a feeling that what came next was going to be the real test.

—

Meanwhile, outside the grand halls of politics and very intense speech-making, a group of heroes was having a slightly less glamorous day. Green Arrow, Speedy, Black Canary, and the Flash, with Kid Flash tagging along, were stationed on duty, keeping an eye out for any would-be supervillains foolish enough to try their luck at crashing the UN Summit.

"Alright, real talk," Kid Flash's voice buzzed through the comms, a little too loud for comfort. "What villain would actually try anything here?"

Green Arrow chuckled. "I'm with you, Kid. I mean, Wonder Woman, Superman, and Aquaman are all inside. You'd have to be pretty bold—or just really bad at planning."

Black Canary, perched above them on a rooftop, rolled her eyes. "Or both. Remember when Captain Cold tried to rob a bank next door to S.T.A.R. Labs? Planning isn't exactly a strength for some of these guys."

Flash grinned. "True, true. But hey, it's a slow day. Who's going to pass up on a chance to chat over comms?"

Martian Manhunter's voice cut in from the Watchtower, steady and all business. "Stay focused, team. Miss Martian and I are monitoring for any unusual activity on the perimeter. The Summit security is airtight, but we don't take chances."

"Yeah, yeah, we're watching," Green Arrow replied, though there was a playful lilt in his voice. "I mean, if anyone shows up, it'll give us something to do besides standing around in the cold."

Speedy chimed in with a low laugh. "I don't know, Oliver, maybe this is exactly what retirement feels like—patrol duty outside while everyone else's inside getting fancy snacks."

Back in the Watchtower, Miss Martian couldn't help but chuckle. "You'd think guarding the world's leaders would be enough excitement for one day."

"Hey, I'm not complaining," Flash said. "But if someone were to show up, I'm betting on—oh, I don't know—maybe Dr. Psycho? He's just the right kind of crazy."

Kid Flash snorted. "Please. Dr. Psycho wouldn't make it five feet past Wonder Woman. Plus, we'd all see him coming from a mile away."

"Debate all you like," Martian Manhunter reminded them, his tone a shade more amused now, "just remember to keep your eyes open. It only takes one villain who thinks they have a plan."

They all nodded, even if the comms didn't catch it. After all, if there was anything they'd learned, it was that villain plans had a way of turning "a quiet day of patrol duty" into "I'm going to need a vacation after this."

—

The answer to their question came in the form of two villains with no shortage of ego—or bad decisions.

Across the street, perched in a dimly lit room with a clear line of sight to the Summit venue, Count Vertigo stood beside Queen Bee. They looked like villains fresh out of Central Casting: Vertigo, with his aristocratic sneer and a cloak that just screamed "I'm here to ruin someone's day," and Queen Bee, exuding an air of smug royalty, her pheromones practically shimmering with the promise of manipulation.

Count Vertigo was here on a family mission, if you could call it that. He wanted his brother, King Josef Vladek, out of the picture—and his young niece Perdita, too. With those two gone, the Vlatavian throne would be all his. And with his power to disrupt balance and leave his targets dizzy, nauseous, or worse, he wasn't exactly worried about a few superheroes. As he would say, with a tone so refined it made you want to punch it, "Every great ruler must eliminate competition."

Then there was Queen Bee, the former queen of Bialya. Her superpower? Mind control, via pheromones, which had worked wonders—until she'd gotten a little too ambitious and tried to seduce Qurac's president into handing over his entire country. That had ended with her being ousted and angling for revenge ever since. But today, she was feeling confident. If her pheromones could turn a seasoned diplomat into a puppet, they could surely handle a few heroes.

"Are you sure this is wise?" one of their henchmen dared to whisper, glancing nervously toward the summit packed with more firepower than the Justice League's annual potluck.

"Wise?" Vertigo scoffed. "This is a masterpiece. We'll dismantle them before they even know we're here."

Queen Bee grinned. "And if they try anything… I'm always happy to make new friends."

The henchmen exchanged glances that seemed to ask, Are we getting hazard pay for this? But Vertigo and Queen Bee? They were already savoring the chaos to come, each sure they were seconds away from victory.

—-

So here I was, trying to listen politely while the General Secretary droned on in monotone, like he was explaining the complexities of toaster ovens to a room full of people just thrilled to be there. But despite the dull speech and overly formal setting, my senses were lighting up like Christmas morning. Something was off, and I couldn't ignore it.

I scanned the room, trying to look casual while assessing everyone within sight. There was Queen Hippolyta, radiating authority like only she could. To her left, Aunt Donna—who constantly reminded me, with that little smirk of hers, that despite being younger than me, she had seniority by default as the "Aunt." Nearby, Mom was looking attentive, like she actually found this speech interesting. Typical Wonder Woman.

Sirius was seated to my right, somehow looking like he belonged here in a high-stakes summit as much as he did in a pub brawl, managing to give off an air of sophistication with just a hint of "I've blown things up, what of it?" I leaned in and whispered, "You feel anything?"

"Hmm," he muttered, adjusting his tie like he wasn't secretly a world-class troublemaker. "You mean that creeping sense of impending doom? Just another Tuesday, kid."

Good to know that my godfather's spidey-senses were also on high alert.

Next to me, Mareena was watching me carefully, her blue Atlantean eyes narrowing as she picked up on my unease. "Is there danger, Charis?" she whispered, her voice soft but tinged with worry.

"Probably nothing," I said with a reassuring smile. "Or, you know, it could be one of those life-threatening situations that always seems to happen when people with titles gather in one place. Either way, it's fine."

She didn't look convinced. "You know how to put people at ease."

"Yeah, my middle name should be 'Reassuring.'" I gave her a thumbs up, which seemed to only make her eyebrows go higher.

To be honest, the feeling wasn't going away. It wasn't like there was a visible threat; it was more like that uncanny, sixth sense that starts buzzing right before things explode—usually in your face. Years of dodging danger had taught me to listen to it, even if I didn't have any concrete proof yet.

I glanced over to Remus, who was somehow both completely chill and yet very much on alert. He gave me a quick nod, which translated to: We're watching. Trust your gut.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Queen Hippolyta watching me. Nothing escaped her, naturally, not even my quiet fidgeting. I shot her a quick smile, and she raised a brow, as if to say, Whatever is going on, keep it under control.

Yeah, thanks, Grandma.

I forced myself to relax, knowing that if something really was about to go down, I'd need all my focus. I mean, I was dressed in an expensive suit, attending a summit at the UN, surrounded by world leaders, heroes, and even my mom and grandmother—an Amazon Queen. It was basically every villain's dream scenario for maximum chaos and headline-making damage.

Then, it hit me. This wasn't just a regular setup; it was too… perfect. A gathering of international diplomats and heroes? That's like setting out a four-course meal for any villain with a grudge. It would take someone truly bold, not to mention power-hungry, to attempt anything here, right under the noses of the world's most powerful superheroes.

Just as I was beginning to think I was overreacting, a voice crackled over my hidden earpiece. Green Arrow.

"Hey, just a heads-up," he whispered, voice low and filled with tension. "We've got potential bogeys just outside the venue, lurking in a nearby building. Count Vertigo and Queen Bee, along with some henchmen."

Oh, great. Because nothing says "low-profile diplomatic event" like supervillains with vendettas.

I felt a sudden jolt of adrenaline, my muscles tensing as I tried to keep a calm exterior. My gaze slid over to Sirius, who was now definitely alert, his hand casually resting near his wand in case he needed it. I gave him a slight nod to confirm he'd heard the comm, too.

And then, because life apparently loves irony, the General Secretary's voice picked that exact moment to soar to an inspirational high. "Today, we gather with a shared dream—peace, unity, and a safe future for all."

Somehow, I doubted that's what Vertigo and Queen Bee had in mind.

---

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