Diana had a strong following, and plenty of voices rose to cheer her on. Her form was breathtaking — arms alternating in long, powerful strokes, muscles flowing with a grace that didn't diminish their strength, bright water parting cleanly behind her. Her legs kicked in a steady, elegant rhythm. She and the ocean had become something seamless, something almost perfect.
If Diana was a swimmer moving through water, Mera simply was water. She gave her hips a light twist, her legs a lazy flick — and shot forward several body lengths in an instant, as if resistance didn't apply to her. Gravity either. No splashing, no reaching, no churning — just a clean arrow punching through the surface.
Thea caught them just as the warm-up was ending and both women were starting to push.
Diana's technique was a pleasure to watch. A few strong strokes, divine power threading through her movements, and she surged ahead — five, six meters clear of Mera.
Mera smiled faintly. Swimming was as natural to her as breathing. She didn't add any visible effort, didn't change anything at all — and then the water itself seemed to gather under her, lifting, carrying her forward, and she overtook Diana with ease.
There wasn't much suspense to how it ended. Even throwing everything she had into it, the Amazon warrior couldn't match an Atlantean in the water. Mera finished well ahead. That said, Diana swam every meter to the end without slowing.
"Finally awake?" Thea held out a towel. Diana took it without a trace of frustration, scrubbing at her damp hair.
Thea made a sound of agreement and, very much like a sleepy cat, curled into Diana's side.
Anyone could see she wasn't fully awake yet. Diana coaxed her back inside with a mix of gentle prodding and outright bribery.
"Poor thing." Diana smoothed the bed and deposited Thea onto it, then reached out to brush a thumb across the tight crease between Thea's brows.
She calls everyone else a child. But she's a child herself. She'd stumbled into carrying the weight of an entire world without anyone asking her to, worn herself down defeating an enemy most couldn't even look at directly — and ordinary people still didn't understand. They talked. They picked at her, questioned her, doubted her from the comfort of their safety.
Diana was genuinely angry about that. At moments, even her will to protect had nearly cracked under it. We nearly die for these people. Do they deserve it?
But then she looked at Thea — small and tired and defenseless in sleep — and pressed every bit of that anger back down where it couldn't reach. It had nothing to do with those people. This was what she was protecting. This, and nothing else.
The next morning, Thea peeled open her groggy eyes, pulled back the heavy curtain, and blinked.
Past ten o'clock.
"I actually slept that long?" She stretched, arching her back with a long sigh — and felt, to her surprise, genuinely rested. Letting go of the weight, with someone nearby who kept watch: it made a real difference.
She activated her super-vision. The whole base spread out beneath her gaze at once, and she had to suppress a laugh. Of course. This group of women couldn't sit still if their lives depended on it.
The heroines were already in the training hall going at it. Thea threw on something casual and wandered over.
The hall was the old stadium, converted into a private arena. Enormous. Divided into nine sections — the outer ring held standard training areas, with four enclosed rooms and four open-platform rings for privacy and personal preference. The room at the center had a power-suppression effect. Even Thea, stepping inside, would have most of her abilities cut by more than half.
To prevent the obvious nightmare scenario of heroes locked in the suppression room while enemies waited outside, the suppression device was installed dead center and run by Gideon. Emergency teleportation gems — linked to the New Continent base — were set into the floor.
At the moment, the central room held the Danvers sisters. Like her cousin Superman, Kara without the Kryptonian solar boost was no match for Alex, who'd been through rigorous special-forces training. And that was after Faora had worked with Kara a few times. Before those sessions it had probably been even worse.
Supergirl Kara was getting pummeled — nose bruised, face red — but she was picking things up fast. Everything connected to fighting, she absorbed and applied at an almost frightening rate. Five minutes of watching and Thea could see the improvement, even if it looked modest on the surface. Against humans, who needed months or years of consistent work to gain an inch — this speed was extraordinary.
Nearby, a few others were sparring in pairs. Laurel's lip was a little swollen — she'd taken a practice sword to the mouth at some point — but she was still going, trading blows with Barbara.
White Canary Sara Lance was matched up against Batwoman Kate Kane. Sara had League of Assassins training behind her and was a clear step ahead in technical skill, but Kate's experience was nothing to dismiss, and the gap wasn't showing clearly in the short run.
Diana was holding back hard against Cassandra — scrappy kid, Thea had privately labeled her — using only Amazon martial arts with no divine power, no sword, no shield. And she was losing. Thea gave it less than a minute before Diana hit the mat.
The others with powers or magic were scattered around — some sparring, some trading theory and comparing notes.
Poison Ivy and Beatriz — Fire — were experimenting together on a high-yield plant fertilizer with some volatile properties, and had called up a test plant to try it on a live plant.
Dora and Zatanna knew each other — their families had some distant connection — and they were deep in conversation about the interplay between bloodline and magical aptitude.
Of course, not everyone was drawn to fighting. There were always a few —
Starfire and Livewire had cornered Miss Martian Megan and were enthusiastically sharing tales from their television careers. Livewire went on about her streaming days; Starfire described her newest show and the intensity of her fanbase. Megan listened with growing envy, practically wishing she could trade places.
Even stranger was the trio in the corner of the outer ring —
Felicity, Iris West, and Lois Lane. Three women who couldn't throw a punch between them, clustered together discussing wedding gowns, nursery décor, and child-rearing.
Iris was holding court on her and Barry's relationship — childhood friends turned roommates, and yet something still felt missing. The other two women, considerably more experienced in these matters, diagnosed the issue immediately: too familiar, too comfortable. Neither of them knows how to make a move.
From there it spiraled into wedding venues, home arrangements, ceremony planning — and Lois, who had stumbled into motherhood slightly out of order and now had a ten-year-old, found herself the resident expert. She walked both of her almost-married companions through everything: what to do the day before, the morning of, and after.
Child-rearing advice? That she regrettably could not provide. Her son had essentially raised himself to ten years old. She had no idea how that had happened.
Thea watched all of this with a look of pure exasperation. Recruiting those three had taken her a long time to decide on. Expecting them to put on capes and go fight crime was a fantasy. Them not actively causing problems was probably the best outcome the male heroes could hope for. Still — as Superman's partner, the Flash's girlfriend, and the Atom's girlfriend, they did have a legitimate case for membership in the Women's Justice League.