Victor took another step. Then another. Huh. That was actually kind of smooth. The weird stiffness was fading, and for the first time since waking up in his new body, he didn't feel like a malfunctioning action figure. No more jerky, robotic movements. No more feeling like a puppet whose strings were tangled.
Progress.
He flexed his fingers absently, still marveling at how natural they felt now. Then something clicked in his head.
Literally.
A sharp, electric zap buzzed in his skull—like the static shock you get from dragging your socks across the carpet, but inside his brain. His vision flickered, just for a second, but long enough that he nearly face-planted onto the floor.
Sarah shot forward, catching his arm before he could embarrass himself. "Whoa! Okay, I know I said baby steps, but let's not go for dramatic baby steps."
Victor barely heard her. His brain was doing… something. Like an itch he couldn't scratch. A pressure at the back of his mind, nagging at him, daring him to poke at it.
So, obviously, he poked at it.
His vision shifted again, and suddenly, text started scrolling across his field of view—
System diagnostics running… neural interface online…
Then, BAM. His brain flooded with data. Not in an "oh no, I just opened a thousand browser tabs and now my laptop is screaming" way. More like he'd just unlocked an extra processor in his head.
Sarah waved a hand in front of his face. "Okay, seriously, what was that? You just went full 'blue screen of death' for a second."
Victor blinked, and the scrolling text vanished. But something lingered. A faint hum. A second layer of thought, like a new tab had opened in his mental browser.
He focused on it. And just like that—
A browser window popped up.
Inside his head.
Victor froze. "Uh. Sarah?"
Her eyes narrowed. "That is the 'I just discovered something weird and possibly horrifying' voice."
"Yeah, because I think… I just Googled something. In my brain."
Sarah blinked. "I'm sorry, you WHAT?"
Victor held up a hand, still trying to process. "No, seriously. I just thought about opening a browser, and BAM—search results. Just scrolled across my vision." He hesitated. "I think I have WiFi in my head."
Sarah's face cycled through at least five different expressions before settling on unholy glee. "Oh my god. Try looking something up!"
Victor frowned. "Like what?"
She gasped. "Oh! What's the capital of France?"
Victor sighed, but focused. Instantly, the answer popped up.
Paris.
His eyes widened. "Holy crap."
Sarah practically vibrated. "Okay, now try something harder—wait. Can you hack stuff?"
Victor shot her a look. "Sarah."
"What?" she grinned. "If you suddenly have internet-in-your-head powers, we need to stress test them!"
Victor sighed. Fine. Science. He focused again, this time pushing a little further. His mind instinctively knew what to do, like the interface was designed for this. A moment later—
"I, uh… just pulled a live feed from a street camera two blocks away."
Sarah's jaw dropped. "YOU'RE KIDDING."
"Nope." He let out a breath, pulling back, and the feed vanished. "That was way too easy."
Sarah grabbed his shoulders. "DUDE. You are literally a walking search engine. No, wait—a cybernetic demigod."
Victor groaned. "Please don't start calling me that."
Sarah ignored him, still grinning. "Do you understand what this means? You can Google spoilers in real-time. You'll always know the best pizza place without pulling out your phone. You could—"
"—Or become a government target if I snoop in the wrong places," Victor interrupted. "Which, by the way, is TERRIFYING."
Sarah nodded. "Fair. But still… this is HUGE. You could do anything with that."
Victor flexed his fingers again, the weight of this discovery settling in. She was right. He COULD do anything.
And that was both really cool… and really dangerous.
"Alright," he muttered. "Let's see how deep this rabbit hole goes."
Sarah grinned. "Now THAT'S the spirit."
—
Dr. Silas Stone barely looked up from his tablet when the lab doors whooshed open. "You're early," he noted, scanning the latest diagnostic reports on Victor's prosthetics. "I assumed you'd need more time adjusting."
Sarah Charles, self-proclaimed scientist extraordinaire and professional chaos instigator, snorted. "Oh, he's adjusting, alright. Fully embracing the cybernetic lifestyle. Maybe a little too well."
Victor, standing beside her like a particularly grumpy statue, folded his arms. "Not talking to you."
Silas sighed. "Yes, I gathered that. So, what's this about?"
Sarah hopped onto the nearest examination table, legs swinging. "Okay, Doc, let's talk about how you built your son's body using alien tech. Specifically, the Parademon kind."
Silas finally looked up, suspicion creeping into his expression. "Yes…?"
Sarah grinned. "Well, turns out Vic's got WiFi in his head."
Silas blinked. Once. Twice. Then slowly removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, which Sarah took as the universal sign for 'I am reconsidering my entire life's work.'
"Explain," he said.
"Gladly!" Sarah pointed at Victor, her tone way too excited for someone explaining a potential existential crisis. "So, we're doing the whole 'learn how to walk without looking like a glitching NPC' thing, and suddenly—boom—he freezes, his eyes flicker, and next thing I know, he's telling me he just Googled something. In his brain. No phone, no computer, just thought about it and bam! Instant search results."
Silas turned sharply to Victor. "Is this true?"
Victor, whose stubborn levels were currently set to 'maximum,' muttered, "Still not talking to you."
Sarah groaned. "Oh my god, fine. I'll be the translator. Yes, it's true. And it gets better! He can hack into security cameras with a thought. He tapped into a live street cam like it was the easiest thing in the world. So my question is—" she leaned forward, eyes gleaming, "—what else can he do? Because if this is just the tip of the iceberg, I am very invested in knowing what the full Titanic experience looks like."
Silas stared at Victor, then at Sarah, then back at Victor, who still refused to meet his gaze. He sighed. "I suspected the neural interface might evolve beyond what I initially programmed, but this… This is far more advanced than I anticipated."
Sarah crossed her arms. "So, what, you gave him a brain-computer and didn't think to check if it had bonus features? What are we working with here? Bluetooth? Can he stream Spotify directly into his skull? Ooh, what about GPS? Could he literally think himself to a destination?"
Silas ignored her running commentary and focused on Victor. "Have you experienced anything else? Any other unusual sensations or abilities?"
Victor rolled his shoulders. "Wouldn't know. Too busy adjusting to the whole 'being a walking weapon of mass destruction' thing."
Silas flinched but didn't argue. Instead, he tapped a few commands into his tablet, pulling up a holographic display of Victor's cybernetic systems. "The Parademon technology is highly adaptable. It was designed for warfare, which means its capabilities could extend far beyond what I originally configured. If your neural interface is already connecting to external networks instinctively…" He hesitated. "There may be other dormant functions waiting to be activated."
Sarah's grin widened. "So, what I'm hearing is—Victor could have superpowers we don't even know about yet."
Victor groaned. "I do not need more surprises."
Sarah ignored him. "Okay, so how do we find out what else he can do? Do we, like, push buttons? Run some tests? Plug him into something and see if he downloads the entire internet?"
Silas gave her a look. "I'm not 'plugging him into something.' We'll proceed carefully. The last thing we need is triggering an unintended system override or activating a combat protocol."
Victor muttered, "Great. So I might randomly turn into a murder machine. Love that for me."
Sarah gave him a reassuring pat on the arm. "Hey, worst-case scenario, we get you a cool superhero name."
Victor arched a brow. "Oh yeah? Like what?"
Sarah smirked. "Wi-Fight Me."
Victor stared at her. "I am not calling myself that."
Sarah shrugged. "Fine, but I'm putting it on a T-shirt."
—
Victor Stone was having a day. Not just any day. A 'hey, guess what, your body might spontaneously develop laser cannons' kind of day. And honestly? He was not okay with it.
Sarah, however, was living for it. She swung her legs off the table, leaning forward with that signature mischievous glint in her eye—the one that meant trouble was imminent.
"So, Doc," she said, all casual-like, "you're telling me that Vic here might have some hidden superpowers waiting to pop out? Maybe, I don't know, a sick laser cannon in his chest? Or—wait! Can he shoot electricity now? That'd be so cool. Like, 'zap-zap, bad guys beg for mercy' kind of cool."
Victor shot her a look, arms crossed tight over his new, definitely-not-normal body. "Seriously? A laser cannon? I didn't sign up to be a Transformer."
Sarah grinned. "Hey, don't knock it till you try it. Think about it! You could roast marshmallows from ten feet away!"
Victor groaned, already regretting every conversation he'd ever had with her. "This is why I don't talk to you. You're the worst."
Silas Stone, who was 100% used to their antics, didn't even look up from his tablet. "The Parademon technology was designed with offensive capabilities in mind," he said, completely unfazed.
Sarah's eyes widened like a kid about to hear the best bedtime story ever. "Oooooh. But?"
Silas hesitated, and Victor could tell from the way his father's lips pressed together that whatever came next was not going to be fun.
"But," Silas continued carefully, "it's not as simple as slapping a few weapons on a body. The armor was meant to enhance physical capabilities, protect the user, and—most importantly—interface directly with the brain. Meaning, if Victor's body is capable of offensive functions, they won't be activated like pushing a button. They'll be… instinctual."
Sarah gasped dramatically. "So, what you're saying is that if Vic gets really, really mad, he might just accidentally fire off a death beam? Incredible. I am so here for this."
Victor buried his face in his hands. "I hate everything about this conversation."
Silas sighed but pressed on. "If Victor's body perceives a threat, it might automatically react. Heightened strength, increased speed, enhanced combat reflexes—possibly more, depending on the situation."
Sarah, clearly not done stirring chaos, turned to Victor with a wicked grin. "Translation: You're a walking security system with anger issues. Which, by the way, is so much better than a laser cannon."
Victor scowled. "Please stop talking."
"Nope."
Silas, valiantly ignoring them both, tapped at his tablet. "The interface is still adapting. It's possible there are combat protocols embedded in the Parademon tech, but they'll need to be unlocked, likely through instinct rather than direct activation."
Victor raised an eyebrow. "So, you're telling me that if I get backed into a corner, I might just start throwing punches with, like, super strength or laser vision?"
Silas, still scrolling through data, gave a noncommittal shrug. "More or less."
Victor groaned. "That is not the reassurance I was hoping for."
Sarah was way too excited about all of this. "Okay, but real talk—what happens if we just poke him with a stick and see what happens?"
Victor turned to her, horrified. "You will not be testing my potential murder powers with a stick."
She gave an exaggerated sigh. "Fine. No poking. But hypothetically—"
Silas shot her a look that could have frozen lava. "No hypotheticals either."
Sarah held up her hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, I'll let the mad scientist do his thing. But if Vic suddenly turns into a real-life superhero, I want full bragging rights."
Victor shook his head. "I am not a superhero. I am just trying to survive this very specific nightmare I've been thrown into."
Sarah patted his shoulder, completely ignoring the fact that he was one glitch away from possibly obliterating something. "Buddy, you are the future of tech. And, on the bright side, you don't even have to train. Instant one-man army."
Victor groaned again, dragging his hands down his face. "This is gonna be the worst."
Silas, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he was already developing a migraine, muttered under his breath, "This is going to be a lot of work."
As they left the lab, Sarah continued chatting about all the ways Victor's new abilities could be useful. Victor, meanwhile, was too busy contemplating just how many more terrible surprises his body had in store for him.
Spoiler alert: It was probably a lot.
—
Victor Stone had been holding it together.
And by "holding it together," he meant teetering on the edge of losing it like an overcaffeinated squirrel on roller skates.
It had been a week. A week. First, his mom was gone. Then, he woke up and realized—oh, hey, he wasn't just Victor Stone anymore. He was Victor "Now with Bonus Cyborg Features!" Stone. Which was, frankly, not as cool as it sounded. No more football. No more normal life. No more future that didn't involve a slightly terrifying amount of tech and a whole lot of "Please, God, don't make me accidentally shoot someone."
And now? Now they were sitting around, casually discussing his "capabilities" like he was some kind of glorified prototype. Like he was a damn smartphone that could shoot lasers and maybe give you a ride to work if you asked nicely.
"Do you even hear yourselves?" Victor snapped, slamming both fists down on the nearest table. That table, to his unfortunate surprise, wasn't a flimsy plastic IKEA model. No, it was a reinforced metal workbench. The thing buckled like a cheap soda can.
It was the loudest sound ever.
And also the most satisfying.
"Do you?" Victor repeated, voice cracking. "You're sitting here like I'm some kind of tech demo. 'Oh, Victor's got cool new weapons! Maybe he can shoot lasers! Maybe he's got a combat mode! Maybe he's gonna be the next Iron Man!'" He gestured dramatically with both hands. "Do I get a warranty? How about a damn instruction manual?!" He was screaming. Like a lion trapped in a cardboard box.
Sarah, standing by with an energy drink that she definitely didn't pay for, froze mid-sip. She nearly choked on her drink, which, honestly, would've been a perfect way to match the level of awkward in the room. But Victor's rage—no, his uncontrollable fury—had her stuck like a deer in the headlights. She opened her mouth, ready to respond like the world's most sassy therapist. But the look in Victor's eyes made her hold up. The way his cybernetic eye flickered—no, burned—red made her rethink her snarky comeback.
And then she glanced at his arm.
"Uh. Vic?" she said carefully, her voice a little too casual for how not casual everything was. She made a vague motion toward his arm, which, honestly, looked like it had just decided to become an action movie prop. "Not to freak you out, but your eye's doing that whole 'I'm one step away from launching a missile' thing, and… uh, I'm pretty sure your hand wasn't a cannon five seconds ago?"
Victor blinked, the red haze in his vision finally winking out. He looked down.
And that's when it hit him.
His right hand. Wasn't a hand anymore. Instead, it was this enormous, sleek, glowing cannon that hummed with power like a living storm cloud.
"Oh," Victor said blankly, staring at his new hand like it was the ugliest Christmas sweater ever.
Then the full realization hit him, and it hit him hard.
"Oh, hell no."
His cannon arm flickered and whined. And in a blink, it was back to normal—well, as "normal" as anything could be when you've got the entire tech support section of the future inside your body. He stumbled back, heart thundering in his chest, trying to catch his breath like he'd just run a marathon—on fire.
"No. No, no, no," he muttered, shaking his head violently. He spun to face Silas, his father, who had been watching the entire thing with that same calm, borderline-robotic expression.
"What the hell did you do to me?!" Victor demanded. His voice was cracking now, with a mix of fear, frustration, and something else he didn't want to admit. "You said I could control this! You said it was about survival, not—" He flung his arm out at the room like it was going to somehow explain everything. "Not turning me into some kind of weapon!"
Silas didn't flinch. Not even a little. The man was about as emotionally expressive as a brick wall, but right now, he was also the one who could probably explain how Victor had ended up this way.
"Victor," Silas said, voice like he was reading an instruction manual for handling angry teenagers with cybernetic limbs. "Your system reacted to stress. The Parademon tech is designed to adapt to your instincts. You were angry. Your body reacted."
Victor's eye twitched. "Great. So next time I stub my toe, am I gonna launch a damn missile?" he asked, letting out a short, bitter laugh. "Maybe I'll just breathe wrong and destroy an entire city block!" He ran his hands over his head, his fingers not feeling like his fingers anymore, like his whole body had decided to become a malfunctioning vending machine.
Sarah stepped closer, hands raised like she was negotiating with a very large, very dangerous animal—aka, Victor. "Hey, Vic. Deep breaths. You can't just… blow up the city every time something sucks, okay? That's not how it works."
Victor turned to her, jaw clenched, fists trembling at his sides, but the anger was starting to cool. The rage had dimmed in his eye, but the feeling? That was still there, simmering deep inside him, like a pot of water on the verge of boiling over.
Sarah kept talking, her voice soft now, her tone just shy of sarcastic. "You're still you, okay? Not some killer robot with laser beams—" she gestured at his arm dramatically, "—just a guy who's gotta figure this out. Yeah, it's messed up, Vic. And I can't make it suck any less. But you're still you. You're Victor Stone. That hasn't changed."
Victor swallowed, his throat tight. The words settled in, but they didn't quite fix everything. His hand was still weird. His body was still wrong in ways he couldn't even explain. But Sarah was right about one thing. He was still here. Still Victor.
And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.
For now.
"So, uh," Sarah said, trying to lighten the mood a little, because someone had to. "Next time you punch a wall, you mind not turning your arm into an intergalactic laser cannon? Just for, y'know, my sanity?"
Victor shot her a look. "If I promise not to, can we just pretend I didn't just turn into this?" He waved vaguely at his body. "Like, can we just... ignore it for a little while?"
"Sure, Vic. You can ignore it," Sarah said, grinning, "but I'm gonna be over here with a fire extinguisher when you blow up the lab by accident, okay?"
Victor sighed dramatically. "That's fair."
—
Sarah took a deep breath, rubbing her temples like she was dealing with a particularly stubborn child. Which, considering she was standing between Victor Stone and his father, wasn't entirely inaccurate.
"Okay, so let me get this straight," she said, arms crossed. "The two of you—genius scientist and former football star turned cybernetic powerhouse—have decided that the best possible plan is to stay cooped up in this tin-can hideout forever?" She waved her hand at the walls, which were about as cozy as an abandoned missile silo. "Real solid strategy. Love the initiative."
Victor groaned and flopped onto the nearest chair, which creaked under his weight. Not that he was out of shape or anything—it was just that, well… half his body was now made of space-age metal, courtesy of dear old Dad. "It's not like I'm loving this, Sarah," he said, dragging a heavy hand down his face. "But I dunno if you've noticed—I'm kinda rocking the whole 'accidental science experiment' aesthetic. Not exactly easy to walk around unnoticed."
Sarah rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. It's Gotham. I've seen at least three guys on the subway who looked weirder than you. One of them had an actual squid for a head."
Victor blinked. "A squid?"
She waved it off. "Not the point." Then she straightened up, getting serious. "Listen, next week, the Lily Potter Foundation is opening a center here. It's for metahumans. People who've had their lives flipped upside down by stuff they never asked for. Sound familiar?"
Victor scoffed. "Yeah, let me just stroll in there, like, 'Hey, guys! Check it out! I'm part T-800, part car battery, and I don't even know what half my body does! Wanna poke at me with science sticks?'" He threw up his hands. "Sounds like a dream."
Sarah gave him a flat look. "God, you are such a jock."
"Uh, correction, I was a jock. Now I'm—" he gestured vaguely at his cybernetic arm, "—whatever this is."
Silas, who had been quietly pretending not to be in the room, finally decided to chime in. "Absolutely not."
Victor and Sarah both turned to him. Victor raised an eyebrow. "Whoa. Okay. I thought I was the one against this plan, but you sound like you just watched your worst nightmare unfold."
Silas adjusted his glasses, his version of pacing. "Peverell Industries may have a respectable reputation, and the Lily Potter Foundation has done commendable work, but I will not place my technology in another corporation's hands." His voice was steady, but there was an edge beneath it—one that screamed 'scientist who doesn't want his homework stolen.' "The technology keeping you alive is singular, Victor. I will not let it be… tampered with."
Sarah threw up her hands. "Oh, for—this isn't about your tech, Silas! This is about Vic! About the fact that he needs help! Maybe instead of worrying about patents and proprietary technology, you should focus on the person whose life you completely turned upside down."
Silas met her gaze evenly. "I am concerned for my son. Which is precisely why I do not want strangers interfering with his condition."
Victor let out a dry laugh. "Yeah, I don't even know what my condition is." He flexed his fingers, watching the servos respond with eerie precision. "And newsflash, Dad—I don't exactly feel like your tech, either. Pretty sure whatever this stuff is, it's not just your standard STAR Labs hardware."
Silas hesitated. Just for a second. But Victor saw it.
"Oh, that's just great," Victor said, throwing up his hands again. "Even you don't know what's going on with me."
Sarah stepped forward. "Look, I get it. Neither of you like this. But staying here isn't solving anything. The Foundation isn't some shadowy government lab that's gonna lock Vic in a basement and dissect him. They're actually helping people. Metahumans, people who didn't ask for powers or enhancements or any of this crap."
Victor exhaled heavily. He hated this. Every part of it. The idea of walking into some fancy metahuman help center, having people look at him like he was some kind of broken machine, made his stomach churn. He didn't want to be a 'case study.' Didn't want to be reminded that he wasn't Victor Stone anymore. Not really.
But he also knew Sarah wasn't wrong.
Silas, though? Yeah, he was still standing firm. "I cannot allow that."
Victor's jaw tightened. "Allow?" he repeated, voice low. "Pretty sure I'm not some lab rat you get to keep under lock and key, Dad."
Silas' expression darkened. "I only want what's best for you."
Victor let out a bitter chuckle. "Yeah? Maybe let me decide what that is."
Silence stretched between them. Sarah shifted her weight, watching the two of them like a referee waiting to call a foul. Then she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Look. I'm not saying you have to trust them. But at least hear them out. What's the worst that could happen?"
Victor shot her a really? look. "Do you remember my life lately? Do you really wanna ask that question?"
Sarah grinned. "Yeah, yeah, tempting fate, blah blah. But seriously, Vic. What's the alternative? Stay here forever?"
Victor frowned, glancing between Sarah and his father. His gut told him this was a bad idea. But another part of him—the part that still wanted to be Victor Stone, the guy who had a life outside of being STAR Labs' walking science project—knew they couldn't just keep hiding.
After a long pause, he exhaled. "Fine. I'll go. I'll talk to them. Talk, okay? No promises."
Silas' expression darkened, but he said nothing. He just nodded, barely.
Sarah clapped her hands together. "Great. See? Progress." Then she pointed at Victor. "But if you do end up accidentally turning your arm into a death ray again? Maybe warn me first."
Victor smirked, shaking his head. "No promises."
—
Sarah could practically see the tension in the room—thick, suffocating, like an overcooked Gotham summer. Victor looked like he was one bad conversation away from punching a hole through the nearest wall (which, given his new arm, he could probably do with minimal effort). Silas was doing that classic 'emotionally distant scientist dad' thing, where he avoided eye contact like it might give him a disease.
Yeah, no. Sarah wasn't about to let this whole thing turn into another episode of Moody Superdudes and Their Sad Dads. Time to lighten the mood.
"So," she said, leaning against the nearest table with an air of casual mischief. "Since we're already deep into the 'Victor Stone: Science Experiment of the Year' conversation, I gotta ask—can you fly?"
Victor blinked at her. "What?"
Sarah gestured vaguely to his cybernetic enhancements. "You know, Parademons could fly. And you've got, like, half their tech grafted to you. Seems like it might be a package deal. Buy one forced cybernetic nightmare, get one free superpower."
Victor turned to his father, then back to her, then sighed dramatically. "Great. So now I'm a 'buy one, get one free' sale at the Apokolips Outlet Mall."
Sarah grinned. "Hey, I'm just saying, if you've got built-in rocket boosters, that's a game-changer. You could finally escape Gotham traffic."
Silas, who had been silently brooding in the background—an activity he had clearly mastered—let out a weary sigh. "Flight capabilities would require a complex integration of propulsion technology, aerodynamics, and—"
Victor held up a hand. "Dad. Please. I am begging you. Do not science this to death."
Sarah wiggled her eyebrows. "C'mon, Vic, humor me. Just a little hop. Maybe you'll take off."
Victor folded his arms, unimpressed. "Yeah, because the last time I randomly tested a new ability, that totally worked out for me." He gestured at his cybernetic arm, which, thankfully, was not currently morphing into an oversized plasma cannon of doom. "Besides, what if I do have flight mode and can't turn it off? Do you really want to be the one explaining to the GCPD why I crash-landed through some poor guy's living room?"
Sarah tapped her chin. "Would make a solid viral video, though. Cyborg Man Yeeted Into Gotham Skyline—Experts Baffled."
Victor groaned, rubbing his face with his non-metal hand. "I hate that I can actually hear that as a headline."
Silas, who had been massaging his temples like this entire conversation was personally shortening his lifespan, finally muttered, "If you two are quite finished—"
Sarah shot him finger guns. "Not even close."
Victor shook his head, but despite himself, a reluctant smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. His life was currently a nightmare wrapped in a sci-fi horror flick, but at least Sarah was pretty good at making it suck less.
—
Victor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose like a man about to make a series of increasingly questionable life choices. "You know what? Fine. Let's do this. Might as well see if there's a silver lining to this Apokolips nightmare package."
Sarah's face lit up like she'd just won a lifetime supply of caffeine. "Yes! Science experiment time! This is exactly why I keep you around, Vic."
Victor gave her a flat look. "I thought it was my devastating charm and incredible personality."
"Oh, totally. But also, potential superpowers. Now, less talk, more flying."
Silas, who had been watching this exchange like a man realizing too late that his child was about to put a fork in an electrical socket, finally intervened. "Victor, I really don't think—"
But Victor was already stepping back, rolling his shoulders like an athlete about to attempt a high jump. "Worst case scenario, I eat pavement. Been there, done that."
Sarah, ever the optimist, raised a finger. "Worst case scenario, you go through the ceiling, launch yourself into orbit, and we have to explain to Superman why Cyborg just became Gotham's first accidental astronaut."
Victor flexed his fingers, feeling his cybernetic systems hum beneath his skin. He focused inward, searching for something—anything—that might suggest flight was even an option. His systems had adapted before, usually when he needed them most. Maybe they would again.
He bent his knees slightly and pushed off the ground with a little more force than necessary—
—and promptly shot six feet into the air.
"Oh, sh—!" His arms windmilled wildly, but instead of plummeting back down like an overenthusiastic parkour fail, something inside him recalibrated. A low, controlled burn ignited in his boots, keeping him suspended midair instead of immediately regretting all his life choices.
Victor blinked. Looked down. Yep. Still floating. Looked at Sarah. Her eyes were so wide she looked like a kid who just got the golden ticket to Willy Wonka's factory. Looked at his dad. Silas had an expression that was equal parts scientific fascination and sheer, unfiltered parental terror.
Sarah, of course, had no such concerns. "Oh. My. God. You are actually Iron Man-ing right now. I cannot believe I was right."
Victor took a slow breath, trying to keep his balance. He shifted his weight slightly to the left. His body followed, drifting in the air like he was on an invisible hoverboard. Another small adjustment, and he ascended higher, the hum of his thrusters a steady, reassuring vibration beneath him.
For the first time in weeks—hell, maybe months—he felt light. Free. No metal weighing him down, no chains of circumstance locking him into place. Just him and the open air, like the universe had finally decided to cut him a break.
And then, of course, Sarah ruined the moment by immediately whipping out her phone.
"Do not even think about recording this," Victor warned, pointing at her mid-hover.
Sarah didn't even glance up. "Oh, too late. 'Cyborg discovers flight, Gotham traffic remains undefeated.' This is gonna go viral."
Victor groaned, but he couldn't stop the grin that tugged at his lips. Maybe—just maybe—being Cyborg wasn't all bad.
---
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