## S.T.A.R. Labs - Training Facility - 2:47 PM
The training room looked like someone had given God's gym a military-industrial makeover and an unlimited budget. Walls that could survive a nuclear tantrum. Holographic systems that made Call of Duty look like a kindergarten finger-painting session. Medical equipment sophisticated enough to tell you when your molecules were having a bad day.
Karan stood in the observation booth with Barry, watching Cisco fiddle with controls that probably cost more than a small nation's GDP.
"You know what's weird?" Barry said, eating a granola bar at super-speed. "We're about to watch someone grow wings, and the weirdest part of my day was still that breakfast burrito that tasted like existential dread."
"That's because you got it from the food truck near the salvage yard," Cisco's voice crackled through the intercom. "The one with the health inspection score that's basically a cry for help."
Down in the training chamber, Kendra stood like someone waiting for a root canal performed by a well-meaning but slightly drunk dentist. She'd changed into athletic gear that Caitlin had provided—the kind that said "I'm about to do something physically improbable and would prefer not to be naked when it happens."
"Okay," Cisco announced, his enthusiasm barely contained by professional concern. "Kendra, I need you to manifest your wings. Just think powerful thoughts. Maybe imagine you're a bird. A really angry, ancient Egyptian bird with boundary issues."
"That's your professional medical advice?" Caitlin asked, looking up from her tablet. "Imagine being an angry bird?"
"I'm an engineer, not a therapist. I fix things that shouldn't exist. Emotional support is above my pay grade."
Kendra closed her eyes. For a moment, nothing happened. Then golden light started bleeding from her back like someone had installed divine LEDs under her skin.
The wings that emerged were absolutely bananas.
Not bird wings. Not angel wings. These were "I'm about to ruin your whole afternoon and possibly your religious beliefs" wings. Massive golden structures that looked like they'd been forged from sunlight and ancient divine spite, each feather detailed with patterns that screamed "I'm culturally significant and also sharp enough to cut through your femur."
"Holy shit," Barry breathed, his enhanced perception catching details that would make a normal human weep. "Those aren't just wings. Those are flying death blenders."
He wasn't wrong. The leading edges of those feathers looked sharp enough to give a surgeon performance anxiety.
Kendra lifted off the ground—smooth as butter, graceful as a ballet dancer, terrifying as a velociraptor with a theology degree. She hovered about ten feet up, her wings moving with the kind of precision that suggested they'd been doing this for several thousand years and were frankly bored with amateur hour.
"Incredible," Cisco said, and for once his enthusiasm sounded actually earned. "Kendra, your vitals are completely stable. It's like your body just said 'yeah, twelve-foot golden murder wings, that's normal Tuesday for me.'"
"They feel natural," Kendra confirmed. "Like they were always there, just waiting for someone to ask politely."
Caitlin was staring at her medical displays like they'd just shown her proof of God's existence and it was weirdly disappointing. "The energy patterns don't make sense. Unlike Karan's armor—which at least pretends to follow physics—your wings are pulling power from somewhere that physics hasn't even heard of. It's like your cells have a subscription to a dimension we can't access."
"Magic," Barry said. "Or mythology. Or whatever you call power that makes scientists drink at lunch."
"Which makes sense if she's connected to an ancient reincarnation cycle," Karan added quietly. "Egyptian priestess, possibly Thanagarian heritage, definitely someone who's been dying and coming back before it was cool."
Barry nodded. "Hipster immortality. The worst kind."
Cisco's voice interrupted their philosophical digression. "Okay Kendra, combat assessment time. I'm activating holographic targets—multiple hostiles, various threat levels, all of them committed to ruining your day. Engage using whatever violent instincts or training your previous lives left in your spiritual carry-on luggage."
The training chamber filled with holographic bad guys—human-shaped figures moving with realistic fluidity, some armed, some coordinating like they'd actually read a tactics manual. About a dozen of them, arranged in patterns that suggested they really wanted Kendra dead.
What happened next made both Karan and Barry lean forward like kids watching their first R-rated movie.
Kendra moved like violence if violence took ballet lessons and got really into ancient weapons. Her wings snapped forward, feathers detaching to become projectiles that hit targets with the kind of precision that suggested muscle memory from multiple lifetimes of "kill or be killed" workplace environments. She dove at speeds that should have liquified her internal organs, pulled up at the last second to deliver a spinning kick that would have sent someone's head into low orbit.
When a holographic hostile got too close, she manifested what appeared to be an ancient Egyptian mace—just appeared in her hands like the universe's most violent magic trick—and started swinging with the practiced efficiency of someone who'd been doing this since before Mesopotamia had proper plumbing.
"She's not fighting," Barry said quietly. "She's dancing. Like the world's most violent interpretive performance art."
"Muscle memory from previous lives," Karan agreed. "She's accessing combat training that her current body never learned but her soul remembers like riding a bicycle. A bicycle made of death."
The holographic targets were eliminated in under thirty seconds. Kendra landed in the center of the chamber, her wings folding back as the mace dissolved into golden sparkles, her breathing only slightly elevated—nowhere near the "I just fought a dozen people" level of exhausted.
"Well," Cisco said into the stunned silence. "I think we can safely say that Kendra's combat capabilities are significantly more 'holy shit' than we initially anticipated. That was like watching John Wick if John Wick was an ancient Egyptian warrior goddess with flying privileges."
"How do you feel?" Caitlin asked, her medical professional voice barely hiding her "what the hell did I just witness" voice. "Any fatigue, disorientation, sudden urge to conquer ancient civilizations?"
"I feel fine," Kendra replied, though her voice carried uncertainty. "Actually, I feel energized. Like combat triggered some kind of spiritual Red Bull."
"That's consistent with warrior mythology," Karan said, pressing the intercom button. "Warriors like Hawkgirl don't just fight—they feed on it. The more violence, the stronger they get. It's very anime."
"Which is useful for tomorrow," Barry added. "But also terrifying from a 'when do we know you're about to stroke out from supernatural combat addiction' perspective."
"We don't," Kendra said honestly. "Which is something I need to figure out before tomorrow. Can we run another simulation? Something longer, so I can find my actual limits before I accidentally find them during live combat?"
Cisco pulled up new scenarios. "I can do that. But Kendra, just because you feel fine doesn't mean your body isn't accumulating stress like spiritual credit card debt."
"Understood. Let's do it."
For the next two hours, they ran Kendra through scenarios that would make a Navy SEAL weep—multi-level combat, hostage rescues, tactical extractions under fire that would make Die Hard look like a Hallmark movie.
She remained composed through all of it. Her combat instincts were flawless. Her tactical judgment was sound. Her wings provided offensive and defensive capabilities that made her basically unkillable unless you had a really good plan and possibly divine intervention.
But the final simulation revealed something problematic.
Cisco designed a scenario based on tomorrow's operation—convoy robbery, multiple armed suspects, civilians in the area, don't let anyone steal things or die. Kendra's job: stop the robbery without creating a body count that would require a lot of awkward police paperwork.
She approached it methodically at first, using aerial advantage like a sensible flying person. But when holographic suspects threatened a simulated civilian, something shifted.
The wings flared wider, taking on a more aggressive configuration that screamed "I'm about to ruin your whole existence." Her movements became faster, more decisive, carrying fury that had been simmering in her soul for literally thousands of years.
When she struck the holographic suspects, the force was significantly beyond "gentle incapacitation" and well into "explaining to a jury why the suspect is now in several pieces" territory.
"Kendra, ease up," Cisco warned. "You're exceeding safe force levels. You're currently at 'accidentally creating a homicide' levels of violence."
But Kendra didn't hear him. She was completely focused on eliminating threats, her warrior instincts overriding any concerns about restraint or "not killing people unnecessarily."
It took three more strikes—each powerful enough to have turned a real person into a disappointing crime scene—before she recognized what she was doing and forced herself to stop.
The simulation ended. Kendra landed heavily, her wings trembling, her breathing ragged not from exertion but from the emotional realization that she'd almost crossed a line.
"I'm sorry," she said immediately, genuine distress in her voice. "I didn't mean to lose control. I saw the civilian in danger and something inside me just... demanded complete threat elimination. No prisoners, no mercy, just ancient Egyptian 'you threatened innocents so you die now' justice."
Karan was already moving toward the chamber, Barry close behind. They found Kendra standing there, wings folded protectively around herself, looking troubled in the way that suggested she was having a serious conversation with her several-thousand-year-old soul.
"Hey," Karan said gently. "You okay?"
"I almost killed them," Kendra replied, her rational mind clearly recognizing that "them" had been holograms but her emotional response not really caring. "If those were real people, I would have killed them without hesitation. Without even thinking."
"That's warrior instinct," Barry said, understanding in his voice. "When you perceive genuine threat to innocents, your combat training takes over. It's not a bug—it's a feature. A terrifying, potentially problematic feature."
"But I can't operate like that tomorrow," Kendra protested. "I can't be someone who murders criminals just because they're threatening people. That's not heroism—that's vigilante violence with better PR."
Caitlin entered with her medical scanner, checking vitals with practiced efficiency. "Your adrenaline spiked during the civilian threat. Not just elevated—we're talking levels that would kill a normal human. Your warrior instincts are tied to neurochemical responses that override rational thought when you see certain triggers."
"So how do I control it?" Kendra asked.
"You probably can't control the instinct," Karan said, thinking about his own experiences with the armor's combat systems. "But you can train yourself to recognize when it's happening, develop protocols for pulling back before you cross lines you'll regret."
"Protocols like what?"
"Like having a partner who can tell you when you're exceeding necessary force," Barry suggested. "Someone you trust to override your ancient warrior soul when it's pushing you toward excessive murder."
"You mean backup," Kendra said.
"I mean teammates who understand that sometimes being a hero isn't about winning fights—it's about winning them the right way, with minimal corpses." Barry's voice carried conviction from his own struggles with overwhelming force. "Tomorrow, you won't be alone. Karan and I will coordinate throughout. If your warrior instincts start demanding blood sacrifice, we'll talk you back."
"And if you can't?"
"Then we pull you out and handle it ourselves," Karan said firmly. "Your participation is valuable, but not worth turning you into someone you don't want to be. We're trying to stop criminals, not become them."
Kendra was quiet, her wings gradually dissolving into golden light as she regained emotional equilibrium. "Okay. But promise me something."
"What?"
"Promise that if you see me losing control tomorrow—if you see me about to use lethal force when it's not necessary—you'll stop me. Even if it means physically intervening, even if it compromises the operation. I'd rather fail at stopping Snart than succeed at becoming a killer."
"We promise," Barry said without hesitation.
"Absolutely," Karan agreed. "Though for what it's worth, you pulled yourself back once you recognized what was happening. That shows self-awareness. That's more than most enhanced people manage."
"I hope you're right," Kendra said. "Because tomorrow is going to be significantly more stressful than fighting holograms in a safe room."
Cisco's voice crackled through the intercom. "Well, on the bright side, we now have comprehensive data about Kendra's combat capabilities and her tendency toward ancient warrior murder-rage. Which means I can design support systems that work with her fighting style and also maybe prevent accidental homicides."
"Support systems?" Kendra asked.
"Communication equipment that won't interfere with wing manifestation, protective gear that adapts to your enhanced physiology, maybe some non-lethal options for when your soul is screaming 'kill them all' but your conscience is saying 'maybe don't though.'"
"All of which we're implementing today and tomorrow," Caitlin added. "Because if Kendra's going into the field, she's going to have every advantage we can provide and also some restraints for when her ancient warrior goddess tendencies get problematic."
As they moved into fitting Kendra with gear, running coordination drills, developing contingencies for when everything inevitably went sideways, Karan found himself genuinely optimistic.
Yes, they were facing a sophisticated criminal who'd been studying them. Yes, they were operating on a tight timeline with a teammate still learning to control lethal combat instincts. Yes, they were doing this under Eobard Thawne's observation, whose true agenda remained frustratingly opaque.
But they were operating as a team. Three enhanced individuals with complementary capabilities, supported by brilliant engineers and medical professionals, unified by not wanting civilians to die.
*We can do this,* Karan thought, watching Kendra practice wing deployment while Barry ran drills for hostage evacuation.
*We're going to do this.*
And then, after surviving whatever Snart threw at them, they'd figure out the other complications.
One crisis at a time.
Starting with tomorrow: stop a heist without anyone dying.
Including themselves.
Especially themselves.
---
## S.T.A.R. Labs - Break Room - 6:34 PM
Three more hours of training had left all three heroes physically exhausted but mentally sharp, having developed operational rhythm through extended practice and mutual suffering.
Now they sat in S.T.A.R. Labs' break room—a space designed for scientists but gradually transformed into superhero headquarters. Large table, kitchenette, whiteboards covered in tactical diagrams that suggested either careful planning or elaborate conspiracy theories.
Karan reviewed the convoy route on his tablet while mechanically eating Chinese takeout. Barry sat across from him, enhanced metabolism requiring three times normal food intake, currently working through his third container of lo mein while everyone else picked at their first.
Kendra had claimed the head of the table, wings manifested in dormant configuration—visible but folded, suggesting they were part of her rather than something actively maintained. She'd discovered during afternoon training that keeping them partially manifested helped her stay connected to combat instincts without triggering the full warrior response that caused "accidentally wanting to murder everyone" problems.
"Okay," Cisco said, pulling up a holographic display of tomorrow's timeline. "Let's walk through the final plan one more time. Make sure everyone understands their role and the contingencies for when things go sideways. Because they will go sideways. They always go sideways."
He manipulated the display to show Central City Mall. "8:25 PM tomorrow, armed individuals enter the mall and take approximately twenty hostages. Based on intelligence, they'll be professional enough to avoid immediate violence but threatening enough to require immediate hero response and possibly therapy for the hostages afterward."
"That's my cue," Barry said, setting down food to study the mall layout. "I enter through service corridors—Cisco's providing access codes—and I use speed to evacuate hostages before suspects realize their leverage is disappearing faster than my metabolism burns through carbs."
"How many seconds for twenty people?" Kendra asked.
"Depends on positioning and restraints," Barry replied. "If they're clustered and not tied up, six to eight seconds. If they're spread out or bound, maybe sixteen. Either way, faster than most people process what's happening."
"Which means suspects will have between six and sixteen seconds to realize their hostages are vanishing and potentially open fire," Caitlin said grimly. "Barry, you need to disable weapons during evacuation."
"Already planned," Barry confirmed. "Grab hostages with one hand, remove firing pins with the other. It's become automatic. Like patting your head and rubbing your stomach, except with more potential for accidental death."
Cisco shifted the display to the industrial district. "Meanwhile, five minutes after the mall situation begins, the convoy enters this intersection. That's when Snart's team deploys their EMP device to disable vehicle communications and recording systems."
"That's where I come in," Kendra said, studying the layout with tactical focus. "I approach from altitude—high enough that ground observation can't spot me—and wait until they've committed before engaging."
"Why wait?" Caitlin asked. "Wouldn't preventing the robbery be better?"
"Because if we prevent it, we don't gather intelligence about Snart's full operation," Karan explained. "We need them to get far enough into the heist that they reveal tactics, equipment, escape routes. Then we roll them up before they actually steal anything."
"It's a timing game," Barry added. "Too early, Snart escapes to plan another operation. Too late, he gets away with cargo. We need that sweet spot where he's committed but not escaped."
Cisco pulled up additional displays showing convoy security specs. "The vehicles have GPS tracking that the EMP won't affect—different frequencies. Even if Snart disables communications temporarily, we'll track the convoy's location throughout."
"What about the cold gun?" Kendra asked. "If Snart uses that on me, am I going to end up as a very attractive popsicle?"
"Unclear," Caitlin admitted. "Your enhanced physiology might provide temperature resistance, but we don't have data about flash-freezing via directed energy pulse. Best advice: don't let him shoot you."
"Super helpful," Kendra said dryly. "Really appreciate the tactical guidance there."
"I'll be providing overwatch," Karan said, pulling up his tactical position. "Once Barry confirms hostages are safe, I move to aerial position above the convoy. If Snart uses the cold gun on you, I can intervene immediately."
"Intervene how?"
"By creating light constructs that absorb or deflect the cryogenic pulse," Karan explained. "My armor's energy manipulation should counter directed energy weapons, at least long enough for you to get clear."
"'Should counter,'" Kendra repeated. "That's reassuring."
"Everything about this operation is 'should,'" Barry said with unexpected honesty. "We're operating on incomplete intelligence, tight timelines, and assumptions that Snart hasn't prepared for capabilities he doesn't know we have. There are approximately twelve thousand things that could go wrong. I've been making a list. It's getting concerningly long."
"So why are we doing it?" Kendra asked.
"Because the alternative is letting a sophisticated criminal operate successfully while civilians are used as disposable distractions," Karan replied. "We don't have perfect options. Just the least-bad option available. Welcome to superhero life—all our choices are terrible, we just pick the least terrible one and hope we can live with the consequences."
The room fell quiet as everyone processed the reality of tomorrow. This wasn't simulation where failure meant starting over. This was real operation where mistakes meant civilian casualties, criminal escape, or heroes getting seriously injured.
Possibly all three.
"I have a question," Kendra said finally, her voice carefully neutral. "What happens if we encounter Supergirl tomorrow?"
The question made Karan's stomach drop, though he tried keeping his expression neutral. "Why would we encounter Supergirl?"
"Because she was in Central City last week helping with emergencies," Kendra pointed out. "And sophisticated criminal operations endangering civilians are exactly the thing that might draw established heroes. If she shows up to help, how do we coordinate without revealing we already know each other?"
It was legitimate tactical concern, and Karan could see Barry tensing as he recognized the same problem. They'd all had dinner with Kara Danvers less than twenty-four hours ago. If Supergirl appeared during tomorrow's operation and they had to pretend they'd never met, it would create complications.
Awkward, potentially disastrous complications.
"If Supergirl appears, we treat her as experienced hero whose assistance we appreciate," Barry said carefully. "We coordinate, share tactical information, worry about secret identity complications after we've stopped Snart and prevented civilian deaths."
"That's a terrible plan," Cisco said bluntly.
"It's the only plan we have," Barry replied. "Unless you've got better suggestions?"
"My better suggestion is you all stop pretending you don't know Kara Danvers is Supergirl," Cisco said, frustration that had apparently been building finally breaking through. "Seriously, it's painful watching you three dance around the obvious like it's some elaborate relationship drama."
Complete silence. Karan felt his enhanced perception sharpen, trying to figure out how much Cisco actually knew versus how much he was guessing.
"What makes you think Kara Danvers is Supergirl?" Karan asked carefully.
"Oh, I don't know," Cisco said with exaggerated sarcasm. "Maybe because she arrived in Central City the same week Supergirl started appearing. Maybe because she's suspiciously interested in enhanced individuals for a journalism student. Maybe because she looks exactly like Supergirl minus the costume and confidence. It's not exactly a challenging puzzle. I've seen harder Wordles."
"Lots of people look similar to heroes," Barry protested weakly.
"Lots of people don't have the same distinctive facial structure, hair color, and body language as Kryptonian superheroes," Cisco countered. "Plus, I ran facial recognition analysis on news footage of Supergirl and compared it to security camera footage from Jitters. Same person, accounting for costume and posture differences. The math doesn't lie, even if you all want to play elaborate pretend."
"You ran facial recognition analysis?" Caitlin asked, exasperation in her voice. "Cisco, that's a massive invasion of privacy."
"That's standard security protocol for anyone spending time with our enhanced individuals!" Cisco protested. "I'm supposed to identify potential threats or security compromises. Discovering Iris's new friend is actually one of Earth's most powerful heroes is exactly what I'm supposed to be identifying! That's literally my job description!"
"Fair point," Karan admitted. "Though it raises the question of whether we should tell Kara we know her identity."
"Why wouldn't we?" Kendra asked. "If she's maintaining civilian cover, it's for the same reasons we are—privacy, security, ability to have normal life separate from superhero activities. Respecting that by not forcing her to confirm or deny seems decent."
"Decent, but potentially tactically problematic," Barry said. "If she shows up tomorrow as Supergirl and we're pretending we don't know each other, that creates operational inefficiencies. But if we tell her we know before then, we're forcing her to either confirm—compromising her security—or maintain fiction while knowing we're not buying it. It's a no-win scenario."
"This is why secret identities are complicated," Caitlin muttered. "They're like relationship status on Facebook, except with more potential for accidental death."
"Okay," Cisco said, pulling up new display showing communication protocols. "Here's what we're doing. I'm setting up emergency contact system routing through encrypted channels. If Supergirl appears tomorrow, you can communicate like you're coordinating with experienced hero you've never met. And if she needs to communicate about anything Kara Danvers related, separate channel that makes it clear when she's speaking as civilian versus hero. Problem solved through technology and clever engineering."
"That's... actually good solution," Karan said. "Maintains operational security while allowing coordination flexibility."
"I have my moments," Cisco replied. "Though I still think you should all just have honest conversation about secret identities and trust. But that's above my pay grade. I just make the gadgets and point out the obvious."
As they continued refining operational plan, working through contingencies and worst-case scenarios, Karan found himself thinking about the complicated web of secret identities and partial truths fundamental to their lives.
Barry was the Flash, but pretended to be just enhanced. Kendra was reincarnated warrior with combat training from multiple lifetimes, but presented as college student figuring things out. Kara was Supergirl, but maintained cover as journalism student interested in enhanced individuals.
And he was Karna, wielding divine armor and working alongside heroes whose real identities he knew but couldn't acknowledge without compromising everyone's security.
It was exhausting just thinking about it.
Like trying to remember everyone's pronouns at a very complicated, very dangerous party.
"Alright," Cisco said finally, saving their operational plan and closing holographic displays. "I think we've done all the preparation we can tonight. Tomorrow, we run through the plan one more time in the morning, spend the afternoon in position, and respond as soon as Snart makes his move. And hopefully nobody dies, gets frozen, or accidentally reveals anyone's secret identity. That's our bar for success: survival and maintaining secrets."
"What about Wells?" Barry asked. "Does he know about all this?"
"He knows broad strokes," Karan replied. "We're coordinating with CCPD, handling both hostage situation and convoy robbery, bringing in additional support. He doesn't know specific details about Kendra's involvement or tactical approaches."
"Why not?" Caitlin asked.
"Because the more people who know details, the more likely details get compromised," Kendra said. "Not that I think Wells would deliberately sabotage, but information security is information security."
"Plus," Karan added quietly, "I'm not entirely comfortable with how interested Wells is in our activities. The level of monitoring, the constant push to develop abilities faster, the way he seems orchestrating situations forcing us to make difficult choices... it all feels slightly off. Like he's playing a longer game we're not seeing."
"You think Wells has agenda beyond helping us become heroes?" Caitlin asked, concern in her voice.
"I think Wells has multiple agendas, and we're only seeing ones he wants us to see," Karan replied carefully. "Which doesn't necessarily make him malicious, but does make me cautious about information sharing. Trust, but verify. And maybe keep some cards close."
Barry nodded agreement, though his expression suggested conflicted feelings about questioning their guardian's motivations. "Either way, tomorrow we focus on stopping Snart. Everything else can be sorted after we make sure civilians don't get hurt."
"Agreed," Kendra said, standing and stretching with movements that made her wings rustle. "And on that note, I should head back to my apartment and get actual sleep. Tomorrow's going to be intense, and I'd prefer facing it well-rested rather than exhausted and potentially homicidal."
"I'll walk you out," Karan offered, standing as well.
They made their way through S.T.A.R. Labs' corridors, both quiet as they processed everything discussed and prepared for. When they reached the main entrance, Kendra turned to face him, expression serious.
"Thank you," she said. "For trusting me with this operation. For believing I could handle it even when I wasn't sure I could handle it myself. For not treating me like I'm just the dangerous new variable who might accidentally murder someone."
"You're going to be great tomorrow," Karan replied, meaning it completely. "Training showed you have capabilities and judgment to make right calls under pressure."
"As long as my warrior instincts don't override my judgment about appropriate force and turn me into ancient Egyptian murder machine."
"They won't. Because you're aware of the tendency, which means you can compensate. That's more self-awareness than most enhanced people manage. Most of us just stumble around breaking things and hoping it works out."
Kendra smiled, some tension easing. "You're good at the reassuring teammate thing. Has anyone told you that?"
"Not recently. Most of my reassurance has been self-directed anxiety management and hoping I don't accidentally kill anyone with divine armor."
"Well, you're good at it anyway." She reached out and squeezed his hand briefly. "See you tomorrow morning for final walkthrough?"
"Absolutely. And Kendra?" Karan hesitated, remembering Barry's advice about being honest before it was too late. "After tomorrow, when this operation is over and we've stopped Snart... I'd like to take you out properly. Not as teammates coordinating superhero activities, but as two people who enjoy each other's company and want to see where that goes. Possibly with less discussion of tactical operations and more discussion of literally anything else."
Kendra's smile widened, becoming genuinely warm rather than just professionally friendly. "I'd like that. Though fair warning—I'm very direct about my feelings, and I don't do ambiguous relationship status. If we're doing this, we're doing it honestly."
"Direct works for me," Karan replied. "Ambiguity has never been my strong suit anyway. I prefer clear communication and minimal emotional confusion."
"Then it's a date. After we survive tomorrow and prevent a heist and possibly encounter other heroes whose identities we're not supposed to acknowledge." Kendra's tone was light, but her eyes were serious. "Try not to get yourself killed before then. I just finally found someone I want to go on a proper date with."
"Same to you. Stay safe, watch for cold guns, and trust your instincts about when to pull back from ancient warrior murder-rage."
After Kendra left, Karan made his way back through S.T.A.R. Labs toward the residential wing, his mind already running through tomorrow's operation for what had to be the hundredth time.
Everything that could be prepared had been prepared. All contingencies they could anticipate had been planned for.
Now they just had to execute.
*One crisis at a time,* he reminded himself as he reached his room and prepared for whatever sleep he could manage before tomorrow's challenges.
*Stop Snart. Protect civilians. Don't let anyone get killed.*
*And try not to accidentally expose anyone's secret identity in the process.*
Simple goals, really.
If only execution was ever as straightforward as intention.
If only superhero life came with an instruction manual.
If only any of this was easy.
But it never was.
And that was kind of the point.
---
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