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MADC Chapter 6 Double Beat Down
🕑 Added 2025-10-01 22:59:13 +0000 UTCThe morning light seeped through the grimy curtains painting the cheap room in a tired sort of gold. Outside, Southside woke with ordinary sounds—garbage trucks, a distant shout, the mutter of engines and some gunshots in the far distance. Inside the apartment, the world was quiet and improbably perfect.
Galatea blinked awake to the steady thump of Zack’s heart under her cheek.
For a second she didn’t move at all. The smell of him was oddly comforting. It felt absurd to feel comforted by something so small. Her chest loosened and she let out a small, contented sigh.
Then her brain remembered what it had been doing for the last twenty-four hours. She yanked herself up in a single, embarrassed motion and her face turned scarlet and burned so hot she was sure the blanket would catch fire. She curled a hand to her mouth and forced herself to breathe, to think. Memories of yesterday flicked through her, arguing with Kara, grabbing him from a rooftop.
Clarity had returned to her the moment the bond completed in the night, the fog of hunger for attachment, the impulsive claws that had grabbed at her were gone. The compulsion that had twisted her actions into something unseemly had been replaced by a thousand messy thoughts.
‘He looked so defenseless in his sleep.’ She thought with a flash of irrational protectiveness and then she thought of all the times she’d pulled him close, the way she’d wrapped him in her arms simply because the bond made her want to keep him and never let go.
‘What now?’ She had spent most of her life being told what she was a copy, a weapon, a tool. Her experiences were engineered, her choices manufactured by people who had never taught her how to want anything beyond the mission. This—this was her first real bond that had grown between two messy, living people. It terrified and thrilled her.
She caught herself when a darker, more possessive impulse tried to flicker through, an old reflex of grabbing, taking, ensuring he would never leave.
Zack was defenseless and she could make him hers in a way no one had ever made anything hers. But he wasn’t an object. His stifled gasp last night when she’d pinned him—his protests—those were real. The thing she wanted most now, more than the smug thrill of possession, was the gentleness she had never been taught to afford.
“Okay,” she told the empty room quietly, and surprised at her own voice. “Cool off. Be a person.” He was hers now, in a way. The Bond System had made that clear. Technically. Philosophically. Biologically? She didn’t know.
But then the existence of Kara, her original hanging like a stone in her stomach. Why did she have to share him with her? Why did everything that defined her have to be mirrored and owned by someone else? Envy rose fast and bitter; she had never had things to call her own.
She felt annoyed at her thoughts of Kara. But Galatea forced herself to count her breaths. One. Two. Three. She needed air. She needed to move. If she stayed curled in this room, she would do something she’d immediately regret. Cooling off was necessary. She slid from the bed and stood, feeling the strength in her legs.
Galatea paced the length of the room once, twice, her bare feet silent on the worn carpet. The pull to stay beside Zack was strong—like a thread tugging at her ribs—but the heat building in her chest was worse. If she stayed, she knew the old instincts might win out. She might grab him, hold him, make him hers in a way he hadn’t asked for.
She glanced back at the bed. Zack lay half-curled under the blankets she’d stolen, his hair a mess, his lips parted in the kind of sleep that spoke of utter exhaustion. Vulnerable. Trusting. A pang shot through her stomach, sharp and guilty.
“No,” she whispered, almost to herself. “I can’t… not like this.”
Her fists clenched, nails biting into her palms. The envy of Kara, the weight of sharing, the confusion of what she was supposed to do with these feelings—it all tangled together in a knot too tight to breathe through. She needed air. She needed space.
She forced herself toward the door, every step like peeling her skin away from something warm. Her hand lingered on the knob, and for a moment she almost turned back.
“I’ll be back,” she murmured, voice trembling but certain. “I promise.”
She risked one last look at him, his eyes were closed, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. Then, with a sharp breath, she slipped out of the apartment. The hallway outside smelled of dust and stale smoke, the fluorescent light buzzing overhead. The city’s morning air hit her next, sharp and cold, cutting through her haze.
Only then did she feel her shoulders loosen.
‘Just cool off,’ She told herself, leaping skyward in a blur of red cape and white suit. ‘Before you do something you’ll regret.’
—-------------------------------------
When Zack’s eyes blinked open, the weight that had been pressed against his chest was gone. For a moment, he lay there in the half-light, staring at the cracked ceiling and listening to the hum of the radiator. His hand brushed the empty space instinctively.
“...Galatea?” He muttered, his voice groggy.
Silence. The room was too quiet. Just the tired drone of Southside’s morning outside—horns, shouting, the occasional glass bottle breaking against pavement.
Zack sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Great. First Kara bolts on me, now she does too. What is it with Kryptonians and the dramatic exit?”
The thought gnawed at him. ‘Why had she left? Had he done something in his sleep? Snored too loud? Drooled? Maybe it had something to do with the system?’
That word alone made his stomach tighten.
“...Right. The system.”
He swallowed and raised his hand hesitantly. Like last time, a flicker of light rippled in the air, and then the screen shimmered into existence before him, glowing pale blue against the dingy yellow wallpaper.
Current Bond Status:
– Kara Zor-El (Supergirl): 100% – Completed Bond. Effects: Emotional equilibrium stabilized. New abilities unlocked. Relationship permanently marked.
– Galatea (Power Girl): 100% – Completed Bond. Effects: Emotional equilibrium stabilized. New abilities unlocked. Relationship permanently marked.
Zack stared at the words, his mouth going dry. “Galatea’s bond is finally at a hundred.”
The glowing letters pulsed softly, like a heartbeat, as if mocking him with their calm certainty.
“So whatever made Kara run off…” His brow furrowed. “The same thing happened to Galatea. They both freaked out when the bond maxed out.”
He dragged a hand down his face, groaning. “Great. Fantastic. So now I’m stuck here wondering if they’re ever gonna come back.”
The words new abilities unlocked blinked up at him, and for a second, curiosity wrestled in his head as he wondered what new powers the two might have gained?
He then started staring at the ceiling, cracked and gray, indifferent to his spiraling thoughts. Zack exhaled slowly, his chest tight.
“So what the hell do I do now?” He whispered. “Sit here and wait? Go after her? Or just… pretend I didn’t screw up two super-powered bonds in the span of a day?”
The screen gave no answer, its glowing lines humming quietly before fading back into nothing.
Zack rolled onto his side, staring at the empty space where Galatea had slept, and felt a strange, hollow ache in his chest.
"Hope both of them come back,” He muttered. “Guess I should leave and see what I can find. Maybe I will recover my memories.”
—-----------------------------------------------
The Fortress of Solitude glowed in soft blues and whites, crystalline walls stretching toward the ceiling like frozen spires of some alien cathedral. The vast silence was broken only by the faint hum of Kryptonian technology and the gentle clink of porcelain.
Kara sat curled on one of the lounge chairs, legs tucked up, a steaming mug of hot chocolate cradled in both hands. The warmth seeped into her fingers, chasing away the icy bite of the Arctic air that never truly touched her Kryptonian body. Still, the drink grounded her—sweet and delicious. She sipped quietly, eyes lowered, her cape folded neatly at her side.
Across from her, Superman, Kal, watched with a faint smile. He had been patient, letting her stew in silence, letting her cheeks cool from the endless embarrassment she had carried here. He was relieved to see her shoulders no longer hunched with tension, her breathing steady again.
“You look better,” Kal said gently, arms crossed as he leaned against a crystalline console. “I was worried you’d keep sulking in the snow until the Arctic cracked under you.”
Kara groaned softly into her mug, her face reddening. “Don’t remind me. I just needed… time. Space. I can’t believe I lost control like that. Rao, it’s humiliating.”
Kal chuckled softly, though his gaze was thoughtful. “You’re young, Kara. Even Kryptonians are allowed to stumble once in a while.” He hesitated, his eyes narrowing slightly as a memory clicked. “But speaking of stumbling… you left someone behind, didn’t you?”
Kara froze mid-sip. “…What?”
“I mean Zack, was his name right?” Kal continued, his tone calm but firm. “The boy with no memories. You told me yourself he doesn’t know who he is, where he came from, or what to do.” He tilted his head, raising a brow. “ And you just flew off leaving him alone.”
The mug nearly slipped from her hands. Kara’s eyes widened, her chest tightening. “Zack!”
Kal’s smile softened into sympathy. “Kara—”
“I left him!” She shot up from the chair, pacing in frantic circles, the hot chocolate forgotten on the side table. “He doesn’t even have a home, Kal! He woke up in a dumpster, for Rao’s sake! He has nothing! And I—” She clutched her hair, her voice cracking. “I just abandoned him in the middle of Metropolis like some… like some stray cat!”
The panic in her voice echoed through the crystalline chamber. She remembered the empty rooftop, his nervous smile when she left in embarrassment. She remembered the way his hand had felt in hers, steady and warm. Guilt crashed through her like a wave.
Superman let her spiral for a moment before he cleared his throat. “And don’t forget,” He added carefully, “you’re not the only one who’s shown interest in him.”
Kara stopped cold, her eyes snapping toward him. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t you remember, what you said, Power Girl, wasn’t she after him” Kal said evenly. His tone held no judgment, but the weight of the words landed heavy. “You two even fought for him.”
For a split second, Kara’s stomach turned to ice. The memory of her clone’s smirk, the taunts, the way she’d grabbed Zack like a prize, every nerve in Kara’s body screamed with urgency.
“She—” Kara’s voice cracked. She swallowed hard, her hands curling into fists. “She can’t… she can’t get to him first. Not like this. Not when he’s alone.”
Without another word, she bolted toward the exit, cape snapping behind her in a rush of red. The crystalline walls vibrated with the sonic boom of her departure as she vanished into the Arctic sky.
The fortress fell into silence once more. Kal exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as he watched the empty space where his cousin had been seconds before.
“Well,” He muttered dryly, “there goes my peaceful morning.”
He moved back to the console, adjusting the displays with absent fingers. His mind turned over the possibilities, each less appealing than the last. Kara and Galatea—Supergirl and Power Girl—already had tensions that bordered on volatile. Add Zack into the middle of it? Kryptonian tempers and jealousies weren’t the sort of thing even he wanted to referee.
“Should I step in?” He asked in silence, his reflection staring back at him on the crystalline surface. “If they fight, the city could suffer. But…” He trailed off, grimacing. “A battle between two Kryptonian women over a guy they’re both clearly… attached to? That’s a fight even I’m not strong enough to win.”
His lips curved in the faintest smile. “Best to let them figure this one out themselves. I’ve faced Doomsday, Darkseid, and Brainiac. But two cousins fighting over a boy?” He shook his head. “No thanks.”
He turned back toward the glowing halls of the Fortress, his cape shifting behind him as he sighed. “Whoever he is. Good luck, Zack. You’ll need it.”
And somewhere far from the Arctic, a streak of red and blue tore through the skies of Metropolis—Kara, desperate to find the boy she had left behind.
—-------------------------------
Southside always looked terrible. The cracked sidewalks sagged and were full of cracks, neon signs buzzed half-dead, and the air smelled of grease, smoke, and something sharp that never quite washed away. Zack trudged through it, hands stuffed in his pockets, his eyes flicking from one graffitied wall to the next.
The apartment door had shut behind him with a groan, leaving him back where he started, wandering. He dragged his shoes along the pavement, the soles worn thin enough to feel every jagged crack.
‘A day. It’s been a whole day,’He thought bitterly, green eyes scanning the empty street ahead. ‘Still don’t know who I am, where I came from, or why the hell there’s some sci-fi dating simulator running in my skull.’
He let out a breath and glanced upward. The sky was gray, heavy with smog. Not exactly inspirational.
‘Kara… Galatea…’ Their names stirred something in his chest. A strange comfort, but also an ache. ‘Where are you two now? Did I screw up so bad you’ll never come back? Are both of them scared that I’m changing them?’’
His stomach twisted. He wanted to believe Galatea’s attachment to return, and wanted to believe Kara hadn’t really abandoned him. But doubt was louder than belief in this part of town.
He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the man until they collided.
“Watch where the hell you’re goin’!”
Zack stumbled back a step, blinking into the face of a broad-shouldered guy in a leather jacket, tattoos crawling up his neck like vines. The man’s eyes narrowed, sizing Zack up in an instant—the ragged clothes, the empty look of someone who didn’t belong.
“Sorry, man,” Zack said quickly, raising his hands. “Didn’t mean to—”
The apology wasn’t enough. Shadows stirred from the alleyways as a handful of others stepped forward, circling like wolves scenting weakness. Chains clinked, knives glinted, and then—most chilling—a pistol clicked as it was drawn and leveled right at Zack’s chest.
“You don’t bump into me like that and just think an apology will be enough to walk away,” The leader growled, tilting the gun with casual menace. “Let me show you the meaning of respect.”
Zack’s heart jumped into his throat. His palms went clammy. ‘Great. Just great. Of all the places to daydream about Kryptonian blondes, it had to be in the middle of gang territory.’
“Look, I—I said I was sorry,” Zack stammered, forcing his voice to stay calm. He spread his hands wider, trying to show he wasn’t a threat. “It was an accident. No harm done, right? We can all just… go our separate ways.”
The men sneered, their laughter sharp and ugly.
“You hear this guy?” One of them jeered, jabbing a finger at Zack. “Thinks he can walk Southside without showin’ respect. Thinks ‘sorry’ makes it even.”
The barrel of the gun pressed forward until it almost touched Zack’s shirt.
He swallowed hard, trying to keep his breathing steady. ‘Calm down. Don’t make sudden moves. Don’t give them a reason to pull that trigger.’
“C’mon, guys,” He tried again, forcing a crooked grin despite the fear gnawing at his insides. “Do I really look like I’ve got anything worth taking? Look at me—I’ve got dumpster boy written all over me. If you want cash, you’re better off robbing a vending machine.”
His attempt at humor fell flat. The men only scowled deeper.
The leader cocked the pistol, the metallic snap echoing too loud in Zack’s ears. “Doesn’t matter. Disrespect needs to be answered. You want to walk outta here? You’re payin’ a toll.”
Zack’s stomach dropped. He had nothing—no wallet, no ID, not even loose change. Just himself, his stupid questions, and a system in his head he didn’t understand.
His eyes darted around, searching for an escape, for anyone who might intervene. But Southside wasn’t that kind of place. People kept their heads down. Windows stayed shuttered. Nobody was coming.
‘Damn it,’ Zack thought, his pulse hammering in his throat. ‘Kara… Galatea… where are you when I need you?’
The gang tightened their circle, chains rattling, knives glinting in the dim light. The gun stayed trained on him, cold and unyielding.
Zack raised his hands higher, voice cracking just a little. “Alright. Let’s not do anything crazy…”
But the look in their eyes told him they weren’t hearing it. Not a word.
—------------------------------------
The lake was quiet. Its surface shimmered like liquid glass, rippling only where the wind touched it or where a bird skimmed too close. Galatea sat on a flat rock at the shore, her knees drawn up, her cape draped across the grass behind her. For the first time since she could remember, there was no noise, no city, no machines, no orders barked by scientists who thought of her as nothing more than a weapon. Just silence.
She hugged her knees, eyes fixed on her reflection wavering in the water. Blonde hair, sharp blue eyes, the same features she hated seeing in Kara’s face. ‘A clone,’ She thought bitterly. ‘An echo. Someone else’s shadow.’
And yet… when she thought of him, of Zack, the bitterness softened. She remembered the strange warmth in his eyes, the way he had looked at her not like she was some pale imitation, but like she was herself.
Her chest tightened at the memory of lying against him, listening to the steady beat of his heart. That sound had made her feel something she had never known before. Safe. Happy. Alive.
She dipped her fingers into the lake and let the ripples scatter her reflection. “My happiness…” She whispered, tasting the word like it was something fragile. “How long will it even last? A day? A month? A lifetime?” She shook her head, her voice cracking into something vulnerable. “Do I even deserve it?”
The thought of belonging terrified her. She had been created to take, to destroy, not to keep. But Zack—he had been different. He made her want to stay, to cling to the rare thing that made her smile. For the first time, Galatea didn’t want to live in someone else’s shadow. She wanted this one thing to be hers.
Her fingers curled into fists, determination sparking behind the uncertainty. ‘I want to keep feeling this. No matter how long it lasts. Even if the world thinks I don’t deserve it, I do. I’ll fight for it.’
Her eyes drifted upward, to the wide blue sky stretching endless above her. She wondered where Zack was at that moment. Was he safe? Was he still thinking about her?
The answer struck her like lightning.
A pulse tore through her chest, a jolt of something electric and alive. She staggered forward, hand pressed to her heart as her bond with Zack flared. Not just warmth this time, but alarm. Urgency. Fear.
Her breath caught. “He’s in danger.”
—------------------------------------------
At the exact same moment, far across the skies, Kara Danvers faltered mid-flight. She had been cutting through the clouds like a comet, her mind fixed on finding Zack, when the same pulse hammered through her bond. Her eyes widened, her breath sharp.
“Zack…” She gasped, the word escaping her lips before she even realized it. She could feel it as surely as if she had seen it herself—panic, fear, the desperate edge of danger.
Two hearts quickened in unison, both pulled by the same thread.
—-----------------------------------------
Back at the lake, Galatea shot to her feet, her cape snapping in the wind. There was no hesitation now. Her confusion, her doubts, her jealousy—none of it mattered. Zack mattered.
“I’m coming,” She vowed, blasting into the sky in a blur of white and red.
—------------------------
Kara was already a streak of crimson tearing over Metropolis, her eyes burning with determination. Hold on, Zack. I’m almost there.
Neither of them cared about the distance, or the inevitability of facing each other again. All that mattered was the tug in their chests—the bond that screamed the same truth.
Zack was in danger.
And both of them would reach him, no matter what stood in the way.
—------------------------------
The gunman’s finger curled against the trigger. Zack’s breath hitched, the world narrowing to the cold barrel pressed against his chest. Laughter echoed around him—low, cruel, gleeful—as the gang jeered at his fear.
‘This is it,’ Zack thought, his throat dry. ‘This is how it ends. Woke up in a dumpster one day, and ate a bullet the next day.
But the shot never came.
A blur of white and red streaked in, and with a sickening crack, the gunman’s head snapped sideways as a fist collided with his jaw. The weapon clattered to the ground. The man’s body followed, sprawling across the pavement unconscious before Zack even registered what happened.
“What the—?!” Another gang member shouted, spinning around.
But Power Girl was already there, standing tall in her white leotard and crimson cape, eyes blazing with fury. “Pick on someone who can actually fight back.” Her voice was sharp, mocking, and filled with contempt.
At the same time, a rush of wind swept Zack off his feet. Strong arms wrapped around him, and before he could scream, he was lifted into the air.
“Got you,” Supergirl’s calm, firm voice reassured him. In the next heartbeat, his boots hit the cracked asphalt again, but this time at the edge of the alley. She set him down with surprising gentleness, her blue eyes scanning him quickly. “Stay here. Don’t move.”
Zack blinked, still dizzy, his pulse hammering. “Y-yeah… sure. Staying and not moving.”
Before he could catch his breath, she was gone in a streak of red and blue, joining her clone already tearing through the gang.
The scene erupted into chaos. Chains swung, knives flashed, and more guns were pulled—but against Kryptonians, it was useless. Power Girl was merciless, her fists breaking through crude weapons like they were toys. She drove one thug into the wall with a single punch that left the brick cracked. Another she hurled across the alley with one arm, the man landing in a trash heap with a scream.
Supergirl’s style was different. Precise. Controlled. A blur of motion as she caught a bullet mid-air, crushed the slug between her fingers, and flicked it away like lint. She swept another man’s legs, knocking him flat before pinning his weapon arm against the pavement with the heel of her boot.
Zack flinched with every impact. The gang’s cries filled the air—shouts, curses, cries, and then groans of pain. One man crawled for a dropped pistol only for Kara to kick it away and send him skidding across the asphalt. Another lunged with a knife and got swatted into a dented car door by Galatea, the metal groaning under the force.
‘Ouch! I almost feel bad for them. They’re… destroying them,’ Zack thought, wincing as one thug clutched his ribs and wheezed. ‘I mean, yeah, these guys pulled a gun on me, but… is this too much?’
His stomach twisted at the sound of another man crying out as Power Girl slammed him into the pavement. His conscience told him to step in and to tell them to stop, but his legs refused to move. He couldn’t deny it—part of him was glad it wasn’t him under those fists.
Finally, the fight ended. The alley stank of sweat, blood, and gunpowder. The gang that had circled him minutes ago was now scattered across the ground—groaning, clutching bruises, or outright sobbing. None were dead. But none would even be walking straight for weeks.
Power Girl stood in the center of the wreckage, her chest heaving, eyes darting around for anyone left standing. Supergirl landed nearby, scanning the shadows, her fists still clenched. The two women turned, their gazes locking across the carnage.
For a heartbeat, the world went still.
Their jaws tightened, their eyes narrowing. Neither was happy to see the other.
Power Girl sneered first, crossing her arms. “Of course you’d show up to play hero. Can’t let me handle things my way, can you?”
Kara’s eyes narrowed, her tone sharp. “Your way nearly killed them. You don’t need to break bones to stop a fight.”
Galatea smirked, her voice dripping with venom. “Don’t act like you’re better than me. You enjoyed it.”
The tension thickened, crackling in the air heavier than the smell of gunpowder. Their capes fluttered in the wind, their eyes blazing, and Zack felt his chest seize.
“No. No, no, no—” He muttered, forcing himself out from where he was hiding. His boots crunched on broken glass as he hurried forward, waving his arms. “Stop! Both of you!”
They both turned toward him, their expressions softening just a fraction at the sight of him—alive, unharmed—but neither looked ready to back down.
Zack swallowed hard, standing between them despite the knot of fear twisting in his gut. He raised his hands like he was talking down wild animals.
“Please,” he said, his voice trembling but firm. “Don’t do this. Not here. Not now. You saved me. You already won. Let's just… talk to each other. Calmly. With no more fighting.”
The two Kryptonians held their glares, eyes locked over Zack’s head. The air seemed ready to snap in half from the tension.
But with Zack’s plea hanging heavy in the alley, both hesitated—neither willing to strike while he stood between them.
Finally Done. Tell me what you think and if I made any mistakes. UPPER07, Thanks for the suggestion. I read it and found it too hilarious not to use it.
Comments
UPPER07
Thanks for incorporating my idea. I’m glad you liked it. When reading the previous chapter, it just came right to me on how Superman’s interaction with Kara should be. Reading this chapter was a delight. I’m glad I got to read Power girls reaction to the bond being 100% for her. I also liked how we got to explore more of her mind. How she kept having doubts about herself because she’s a clone. Thinking her wants and feeling are Kara’s and not hers. It would be an interesting journey for Power girl to discover more about her self, to be more than a clone. She’s maybe stronger and mature looking than Kara, but she isn’t Kara. It would be great for Zack to see Power girls struggles and help her. Like the great words of Pa Kent from the Superman movie, how he said your actions and choices is what makes you who you are. Remembering that scene always makes me emotional. Also, from the great Shirou Emiya once said, that there are no rules where the imitation can’t surpass the original. Keep up the great work.
