She was flying.
She was soaring through the red skies as the wind battled against her face and the skies flashed a shade dark and the birds squawked in alarm but amidst it all a grin still shone on her face.
Kara smiled, despite the chaos. Thunder roared and lightning flashed black in the dreary skyscape, and above all of it was a red Sun unfazed by the darkness; burning bright despite it all.
And there was her question: How?
How could they still retain hope? How could… this still be bright, even when all else had fallen into the darkness? How could the humans still retain hope?
She flew, dodging birds and flying through clouds, and soared; up, up and up, 'till the light was blinding and the clouds were white and the birds squawked in paradise.
And she felt a blissful sense of… something.
Something she couldn't quite place.
Until there was a flash of red light and then just like that she was falling and falling and descending into the dark and she wondered if that was what false hope felt like.
…
Can you hear me?
An eon of ringing in her ears subsided just enough for her to hear. Kara shifted, uncomfortably, and she felt the sensation of metal against her back.
Where am I?
She squinted, trying to discern the blurry images in her eyes, but there was nothing but harsh light.
Footsteps clanged on the tiled floor. She heard the distinct scribble of notes and a blur of a white coat; swallowed the taste of sterile air and heard the monotonous beeps on a heart monitor; before the puzzle finally pieced together and she realised in horror where she was.
An experiment chamber. Every bone in her body tensed; and the alarm bells rang in her head with one word repeating itself, over and over: SURVIVE.
Kara couldn't speak. Terror constricted her voice and any defiance that came with it lost. Paralysis hung to her muscles and wouldn't let go. Fatigue disturbed whatever chance of powers she had left.
And the only thing she could do was look at the blurred faces and hope.
The experimenter must've noticed, because his next words chilled her to the bone.
''Very well. Test subject #27, Sample #6. Prepare the Red Kryptonite and the solar flare panels. May the Father save your soul—''
A rev. A creak. An unholy scream.
''—And it begins.''
…
Experiment #4217. Sample #6. Trial 47. Test Subject 27. Begin.
Lights.
It was nothing but light.
Light flooded her vision. Glares of red, orange and black flashed in her drugged mind, but none clear enough for her to see what it was. She struggled futility, uselessly—but the bonds were too strong, and she was too weak.
Dimly, she saw the Doctor, a grin on his face as he admired the spectacle. He waved a casual hand at the experimenters furiously manning the machines, and her heart tightened like a snake's coil.
''Increase the voltage.''
She could hear the weapon revving up, and she saw the Doctor jotting his notes, and her vision flashed rapidly and the jumble of noise was murky, and when the energy reached its maximum and the Doctor hollered a shout,
And finally, a strangled scream tore out of her throat.
…
That pain and torture and agony and the cruelty of it all she experienced in that deranged chamber she forever remembered; and her heart made it so in a way she would never forget.
And all that time, in all of her suffering, she wished she wasn't feeling false hope.
...
The doors broke down.
In an instant, screams filled the room and Kara groaned at the heightened noises. Murkily, she heard the bangs of the desks and the trillion sprinkles of fragmented glass dinking on the tiled floor. Zing-zing-zing went the arrows and chitters blasted from the machine gun. And she anticipated for a greater crash still for there was a gigantic glass window in the experiment room, there for people to watch her scream.
The marches were growing louder. Hollers of commands and barks of orders magnified in amplitude and volume 'till her ears could stand no more. She braced herself—for the glass to shatter and something, anything to end it all.
…
Silence. Not a whisper or a sound. She heard footsteps walk forth, no quieter than the Doctor would've when he thought she didn't notice he was coming. A creak of a door, another step still — and she wished for her eyes to open so she could see who it was.
Nothing.
She could tell that he was nearing her — observing her, perhaps. She strained, and managed a rasp of breath — but that was it.
Soldiers streamed into the room, and the abrupt noise of it all smacked sense into her. She writhed in her bonds, rasped any sound left in her throat and thrashed like a wild animal, all for them to see and hear.
The squadron was quiet again, but it didn't mean that they were gone. They assumed their positions; cocked their rifles towards her struggling form and waited for the orders to shoot.
Futile.
Footsteps marched up to who she assumed was their leader. They exchanged whispers; words they thought she could not hear.
''You said that there was a nuclear weapon here. We searched the premises—there is nothing of semblance to it. What's going on — fake intel or bogus resources — again?''
''I was wrong, then. Disassemble the place — leave no remains. Go, now.'' said the leader. His voice was gravelly, melancholic. Kara took note of this.
''You didn't answer the question, General. But no matter. You'll tell me when we get back to our quarters. What do we do with the woman?''
''Leave her.'' replied the General. ''I will deal with her.''
''Orders to shoot, then?'' asked the soldier. Kara felt a twinge of irritation. Go ahead, she thought. Let's see who's laughing when the bullets deflect back.
''No!'' growled the General, and the sudden shout shocked her back to consciousness. ''Didn't you hear what I said? Leave her.''
''Very well, then.''
She heard footsteps walk away—the soldier returning to the squadron, she presumed. Kara felt an inkling of... interest. Just who did this general think he was?
Footsteps walked towards her, and she felt herself tense. Suddenly, she heard the whirr of a mechanism, and a sudden clack, and just like that the bonds that had kept her prisoner for so long retracted back into the metal table.
She collapsed from that slanted rectangular display case and crashed onto the floor. Her ears rung in pain and her black vision jarred—and the last thing she felt was two warm hands.
…
Are you alright?
Her brain was fuzzy. Chunks of words processed in her mind, but none held meaning.
Can you hear me?
Her heart beat erratically. Drugged warmth shoved itself in her hand, and the rough voice floated in her pieced mind.
Give me a response.
Weakly, she pulled her hand back. The warmth evaporated, and distinctly, she felt the stranger give a satisfied smile.
Thank you.
Despite the fading pain and the muddled thoughts, unconsciously, she croaked out: ''will you… kill… me?''
''No.'' The voice she heard began to fade, but it was fierce—determined, even. ''I will not kill you. I will not hurt you. You are safe.''
…
''Who are you?''
''I am the General of the second Brethren of the Nazis. My name is Oliver Queen. And you are Kara Zor-El of Krypton.''
Her head cocks; the pillow felt soft. A flickering light shone dimly from above, illuminating his face by the slightest.
He continued. ''Landed in a pod in midwest of the Fatherland seeking refuge from your dead planet. Brought up in a partisan-Resistance camp; left in free will in 2008. Last recorded sighting in 2010.''
''How did you find me?''
Shadows danced across Oliver's face—he leaned back in his chair, and it creaked by the slightest.
''My division was storming the bunker after we received intel from the enemy unit. I found you in the laboratories of the Resistance, in one of their testing labs. I rescued you.''
Kara stays silent.
''Why?''
''You fought. You were still alive when we found you—not unconscious, not comatose—fully awake and thrashing. To be honest, I was surprised. You had a spirit; a spirit which I not seen in anyone else. You wanted to live, despite…'' and at this point, an ironic smile creased his lips, ''despite this world.''
He leans forward. ''And thus I rescued you. I suppose you know the rest.''
Kara curls her lip. ''I wonder what a sickly woman is of use to for the Nazis.''
The Man—Oliver cleared his throat. He looked Kara in the eye, and she saw nothing but emptiness. ''All the other subjects were found dead, and the freshest corpse was of two years. You were still alive when we found you—but you weren't just alive. You were healthy. That speaks enough for itself.''
She furrows her eyebrow. Healthy. That idea itself was laughable.
But then, something crosses her mind. ''What year is it?''
''2016.''
Six years. It was six long years of torture.
How did she not realise that?
Oliver must've noticed her turmoil—because he got up from his chair. ''Get rest, Kara.'' he murmured, his voice a tone soft. ''And get well soon.''
He pressed his lips to her forehead; strangely, she didn't resist.
Before he left the room, Kara called out: ''Wait. What were the experimenters testing me for?''
Oliver turned back towards her. A pause. He wets his lip. ''They were testing the ways to kill you.''
A stretch of silence. ''… Thank you.''
The door clicks shut.
…
She entered the commander centre.
Cold, damp and crowded—those we the words any visitor would use to describe it. Magnificent, refreshing, and commodious? Those were the words a person who had lived Hell in a sterile facility would use to describe it.
It was certainly a breath of fresh air from the stuffed infirmary.
The room was alive. Filled to its brim with conversing soldiers and weapons-testing alike, it had a semblance to a commons room rather than a fully-operational, commander's center.
Kara made her way towards Oliver, who was speaking with another General. She weaved through the crowd of soldiers, in blazing streaks of black and red and a cape to finish it off, when suddenly, inadvertently, she heard a snicker.
Kara stopped. And the spell was broken.
Instantly, silence hushed through the room. Kara turned towards the offender. He was a soldier, no older than his twenties. A sling of badges hung from his shirt pocket despite dressing in casual uniform, and he seemed utterly deaf to the silence.
''Hey, princess,'' he said foolishly. ''Ladies like you shouldn't be here sizing up us brave military men, eh?''
Kara smirked. She almost felt pity for the poor thing, but the hardness in her heart covered it up nicely. The tension from the soldiers was so thick that she could virtually slice it in half. Soldiers around her tensed. She could see Oliver out of the corner of her eye, his attention to the conversation long gone, peering at her with a wary eye.
She knew that look well. Time to prove herself.
The soldier spread his arms, a boyish grin on his bulky features. ''Sorry, lass. But it's us that do the picking 'round here.''
One, single punch. That was all it took. With a sonic blast, he was sent flying through the air and he sounded a horrific scream, before there was a thud and he was slammed into the wide-gate doors.
The room was deathly silent. Without a word, Kara saunters toward the soldier, now struggling in a pile of dusty rubble. She towers over him, a shadow of menace and an air of death posturing from her, and she grabs him by the neck and lifts him up in the air.
''You dare to disrespect,'' she sneered, glaring scornfully at the figure in contempt. ''How truly reprehensible. You dare to... defy. What a trait to be found in obedient soldiers, isn't it?''
A scoff. A smile. She glances at the struggling figure thoughtfully, pondering the man's fate as if it were a simple matter.
Finally, Kara returned her gaze to the crowd of soldiers. She lifts the man effortlessly, and stares into him dead in the eye. ''And so, you will be an example… for them. A shining example of what happens to you when you disrespect your new General.''
''G-guh…'' he gurgled. Already blood had begun to spurt from his mouth. Kara cocked her head, and faced the watching soldiers again, mesmerized by the horror of it all.
''You want to be remembered? Fine. Do not worry, for your memory will be remembered as far as their fears would go. When the time comes to mark your grave no one will name you. Your memory will be etched in blank stone—and when it is time to speak of your deeds all they will speak of is me.''
Kara raised her voice like she was narrating a holy deed. ''They will remember you as my first victim—and that is the only mark you would leave in this world. I cannot say that it would be an honor; when all that remains of you is forgotten.''
''P-please…'' he croaked. A gasp. ''I-I'm sorry…''
A scoff. A smile. She stared into the man's dilating eyes with her cold dead ones. ''There is no room for mercy in the Nazi.''
A second was all it took.
Her hand tightens around his neck and she could almost feel the delight of his blood spurting from his veins, and as her nails clawed its way into his beating pulse she finally finished the job.
One jerk from her wrist. That was all it took.
One sick crunch. That was what gave way.
With a smirk of pleasure, she felt the sound of one pleasant gurgle and saw one last lurch from the man, and before it even started it was done.
She let go.
A thud. The room was deathly silent. She saw Oliver lower his bow, a thin line grazing his lips—satisfied at the turn of events.
Kara waved dismissively at the corpse. ''See to it that the remains are gone. I do not need to see that man's face anymore.''
Oliver barks a command at his soldiers. Hurriedly, two scramble towards the corpse and took it by its arms and legs, and leave the room without a sound.
Smiling, she glances to the crowd, arms spread wide.
''Now that we're all here, let's start, shall we?''
...
The next time she comes in, they're not snickering anymore.
Oliver leads her by the hand; Kara dismisses the orderly ranks of soldiers. A dark glint in her eye and a faint smile on her lips, she strides towards the podium and her cape swayed to the steps.
Oliver straightens his back and lifts his chin. ''I welcome you, SS General Kara, to the New Reich.''
''Heil, mein heerführer! Heil mein heerführer! Heil!''
A wicked grin passes her masked face.
…
The pain starts in her heart.
At first, it isn't noticeable—a mild inconvenience, an annoying irritation, perhaps. But as the days passed by and the pain intensified, she knew that it wasn't just ordinary heartache.
And when the worry came too great and hope was diminished to a trickle and she was finally diagnosed, it was too late.
The disease had taken root in her heart.
...
They lined up for deployment.
Oliver was positioned up front of the troop of Nazis. Wind ruffled his hair and he adjusts his peaked cap, and once that was done he straightens his arms and clasps his hands behind his back.
Kara floated above, in full gear and mask, the quaint breeze fluttering her cape casting an imposing shadow over the rows of troops.
The Sun settled behind the red-streaked mountains. Once darkness swept through the city and there was nothing so much as a flicker of light left, SS General Oliver barked his commands.
''Attention, Schutzstaffel! Division Six will storm the D.E.O led by the General. They have advanced weapons capable of mass destruction— but our quest is for their interdimensional device. Those idiots don't know what it's capable of—but we do. Retrieve the device and kill all that oppose you. That is all.''
The soldiers saluted. ''Heil, mein heerführer!"
Oliver gave a nod in response. The soldiers abruptly lowered their salute and waited for additional orders.
''Leave us.''
They marched back to their campsite and stood aside, waiting.
Kara descended down from the red skies. She turned to Oliver, whom took off his officer's cap and tucked it under the strap on his uniform. When that was done, he had visibly relaxed.
''I'll miss you,'' stated Kara. ''But our mission is to the Fatherland; and if I shall die, then you will know that it was a glad sacrifice.''
''I know,'' Oliver replies gravely. ''But it does not mean that I cannot fear for you.''
She kissed him on the lips; he doesn't resist.
When her cold lips left his warm ones, he quietly said: ''Kara. The D.E.O is the Resistance's last hope. When it is rendered to rubble and the ashes of their dead, they will stop living in their world of fake hope and accept the grim reality of us. I am counting on you to eradicate the last of their species. Don't fail me.''
Expressionless, she said: ''I'll make sure they don't dare to hope again.''
Then, she turned away and faced the resting soldiers. Turning her mask on, she barks a command and marches out of the camp with the soldiers trailing behind, leaving Oliver behind as he watches her go.
…
''You can't do this, Kara,'' gasped Alex, struggling futilely against her grip. ''I'm your sister, damnit!''
''Sister, huh?'' Kara's lips curl sadistically. ''Makes me wonder. What makes a sister a sister?''
She slammed Alex against a wall. ''You betrayed me,'' Kara growled through her gritted teeth. ''You left your sister in that hellhole of yours for six bedraggled years— tortured by those friends of yours until I felt like dying was a mercy. You didn't care when the lab was stormed and I was listed among the dead— hell, I didn't even have a grave. So that makes me ask: what part of our so-called ''sisterhood'' would prevent me from killing you?''
Kara sneers as her grip tightens on Alex's throat. Gasping, Alex croaks: ''You betrayed us; not the other way around. We took you in, saved you from the Nazis and risked our lives to give you a chance—and what did you do? You left us; left your home and joined them! I never took part in your experiments—I tried to save you, goddamnit!'' A retch. ''Kara, please… if you feel something, if you still feel anything, then don't…''
Not a single thing passes Kara's face. Softly, in a tone that never existed till then, she whispered: ''I'm sorry, Alex. But I don't.''
And with just one snap, it was done.
…
''The second Fuhrer is dead,'' Oliver announced, his face a stone mask. ''He was killed by the Resistance in direct combat. He was a great leader; a supreme commander; a respectable combatant; and now his full position and duty passes to me. May his memory be forever etched in stone.''
"Heil, mein Fuhrer!" Oliver walked by, observing the salute. Kara stood to the side, arms crossed. "Heil, mein Fuhrer! Heil! Heil!"
After the third salute, Oliver signals for the salute to cease. Abruptly, all hands dropped, and the soldiers fell back into single file.
After the ceremony was over, Kara waltzes up to him. ''Congratulations,'' she said. ''That Fuhrer deserved to die.''
Oliver doesn't betray anything; not a single twitch of thought or emotion. But there's a cold glint in his eye she recognised one too many times. ''Anything for you, my General.''
Something predatory, something dark flashes in her eyes. ''Good. Now, shall we dance?''
A thin smile spreads over Oliver's face. He takes her hand in his; it was warm. ''Yes. Yes, we shall.''
...
''I don't have much longer to live,'' whispers Kara, pain written over her face. ''The pain is intensifying. I can't withstand it anymore.''
'Don't worry,'' Oliver states, his voice a low murmur. He kisses her cold forehead, and she curls into him. ''Don't you worry. I'll find a way. I'm going to find a way for all of this to end, and you won't need to worry about the agony, the nightmares, or the memories anymore.''
They sleep through the unforgiving night.
…
And it's only when, after the torture and the pain and the sacrifice she thought about it, and she understood.
Everyone was poisoned by the light.
And the darkness is merely a cure.