Bubble Boy

The sun dipped low, casting the city in hues of amber and gold as Troy and Jackson walked the cracked sidewalks back home. Neither spoke for a while, the tension from the alley still clinging to them like sweat.

Finally, Jackson broke the silence. "Miguel's not a bad guy," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "He's just... angry. Lost. Feels like everything's stacked against him."

Troy didn't reply at first, his gaze focused on the street ahead, jaw tight.

"He's not wrong either," Jackson added. "You were born different. Born stronger. But that doesn't mean you don't bleed like the rest of us."

Troy slowed his steps, a sigh slipping out. "Sometimes I wish I didn't."

They reached the intersection. Jackson gave him a nod. "I'll catch you tomorrow, Bubblehead." He smirked, turning down the street toward his neighborhood.

Troy watched him go.

Then he walked.

He wasn't paying attention to where. Just... moving. His thoughts pulling him in every direction. Miguel's words, Annie's scarred smile, Starman's eyes the day he killed that criminal like it meant nothing.

Before he knew it, he stood at the foot of a familiar building. Run-down. Paint peeling. A cracked window on the third floor still held the same crooked curtain.

His mother's apartment.

His feet didn't move. Just stayed rooted to the sidewalk as he looked up. And there she was.

A silhouette behind the glass. Her figure motionless. But she was watching.

So was he.

A moment passed.

Then Troy turned away.

He didn't knock.

Didn't wave.

Didn't cry.

He just walked.

His pace steady now, heading to the only place that made sense anymore. Jace's mansion loomed ahead, cold and monolithic in the fading light. Shadows stretched long across the driveway.

As he reached the door, it opened before he could knock.

Arthur, ever-stoic in his tailored suit, greeted him with a small nod.

"Master Troy," the butler said, voice smooth as silk. "Rough day?"

Troy stepped inside, the warmth of the mansion a sudden contrast to the cold in his chest. He didn't answer at first. Just looked around at the marble floors, high ceilings, and spotless decor, so different from the life he knew.

"Yeah," Troy finally said. "Just a bit."

Arthur gave a small bow. "Mr. Jace is in the war room. Shall I inform him you've returned?"

Troy shook his head. "No. I'll go see him myself."

As Arthur stepped aside, Troy walked deeper into the mansion, into the belly of the beast, the eye of the storm, the safest place he had left.

Even if he wasn't sure he belonged anywhere anymore.

The door to the war room slid open with a whisper of hidden mechanisms. The room was dim, bathed in a soft blue glow from the massive monitors displaying maps, surveillance footage, and dossiers scattered across the digital interface. Jace stood at the center, tall, cloaked in his signature black combat gear, eyes scanning data streams with machine-like precision.

He didn't turn.

"I heard you come in," Jace said. "You're heavy footed today."

Troy stepped in, the door sealing behind him. "Sorry."

"No need." Jace tapped a holographic panel. A series of images came up, Legion Tower, crime statistics, and photos of Troy's recent encounter with Miguel. "I was just updating our strategy. The Legion's becoming more active. Sloppy, even. But dangerous."

He turned now, eyes sharp behind his cowl.

"We're going to destroy them."

Troy raised an eyebrow. "That simple?"

Jace gave a humorless smile. "No. But it starts with understanding our enemy."

He flicked to another file, a glowing photo of Starman, regal and radiant, surrounded by smiling children and waving civilians. The perfect hero.

"You are Starman's son," Jace said flatly. "Makes sense, now that we've gone through all the data. Your durability. The spikes in your power output. Even your ability, it's not just some quirk. It's alien."

Troy's throat tightened.

"But," Jace continued, "you know, I had crappy parents too. My father was a ghost. My mother made me feel like one. I used to think they defined me."

Jace walked over, resting a hand on the console beside Troy. "They don't. We decide who we are. Not them."

Troy looked down, nodding slowly. "Thanks... I guess I needed to hear that."

Jace gave him a small nod. "Good. Because when the time comes, you'll have to look him in the eyes. Not as a son. Not as a scared kid. But as a hero."

Legion Tower – Later That Night

The towering monolith of steel and glass loomed over the city, lights flickering like stars against the deep purple sky. Inside, in a grand, obsidian room at the heart of the tower, the Legion gathered.

Starman sat at the head of the table, his eyes glowing faintly red as he stared down at the polished surface. He hadn't spoken in minutes.

Around him, the other members bickered.

"Bubble Crew's growing," Bolt said, spinning a pen between his fingers. "They're a joke now, but that's how weeds start, small, annoying, then everywhere."

"Let's just burn them out," Void muttered. "Quick. Quiet."

Construct grinned. "Ooh, we could make it a game."

Gladiator remained silent, arms crossed, glancing nervously toward Starman.

Still, he said nothing.

Then, the door opened.

Michael entered, armored and stern, his face unreadable.

The others stiffened.

Starman finally moved. With a single flick of his wrist, the rest of the Legion fell silent.

"You may leave," he said coldly.

They obeyed without hesitation.

Now only Michael remained.

He approached slowly. "You called?"

Before he could speak further, Starman appeared before him in a blink, faster than sound, faster than thought, his presence overwhelming, godlike.

"You didn't tell me," Starman said, voice low and vibrating with restrained power.

Michael's face twitched. "Tell you what?"

Starman's eyes flared. "That I had a son."

Silence.

Michael didn't speak at first. Then, quietly, "You weren't ready to know."

Starman's lips curled, half amusement, half rage. "I decide what I'm ready for."

He turned away, stepping back to his throne-like chair. "I've made a decision."

Michael narrowed his eyes. "What decision?"

Starman sat down. "I'm going to recruit him. Troy. My son. To the Legion."

Michael's eyes widened. "You're serious?"

Starman didn't blink. "Deadly. He'll become something greater. Or he'll break."