While Supergirl was reluctantly adjusting to her new role as a hard-hat-wearing symbol of civic contribution, Ashborn Black was already a few steps ahead in his day.
Leaving the tall structure of Shadow Corp behind, he made his way toward a far more energized destination: the engineering research lab tucked in the industrial outskirts of the city. This particular trip wasn't scheduled on his calendar, it was a direct request from Gizmo himself. And when your top tech genius calls, you answer.
As he strolled into the lab, the sharp scent of metal, solder, and synthetic oils greeted him like a familiar friend. The whir of machines and the clatter of tools danced in the background like music to the scientifically inclined.
Gizmo, hunched over a glowing terminal, perked up the moment Ashborn walked in.
"You came!" the small genius grinned widely. "And what's that smell…?"
Ashborn raised the box of donuts with a slight grin. "Thought you might like a little sugar with your science."
Gizmo lit up like a child on Christmas. "You are the best boss."
Ashborn chuckled lightly, placing the box on a nearby table. "Try not to get glaze on the circuitry."
"Too late," Gizmo mumbled, already halfway into a powdered jelly.
Wiping his fingers, Gizmo gestured eagerly. "Come on, come on, I've got something to show you."
He led Ashborn to a sealed-off testing area, where two metallic armguards rested atop a reinforced platform. They gleamed under the overhead lights, leek and matte-black.
"I've been working on these babies ever since the Joker incident," Gizmo said proudly, his voice brimming with excitement. "Took your whole 'Not standing out' philosophy to heart."
He picked up the first armguard and strapped it around Ashborn's forearm.
"This one's a compact rocket launcher. Only three shots, but don't get greedy, each one packs enough punch to turn a grown man into a red mist. Try it."
Ashborn raised his arm, aimed at a reinforced wall, and fired. A pencil-sized rocket shot out with barely a whisper. A second later—BOOM. The explosion rocked the room, leaving a smoking crater in the metal.
Ashborn whistled. "Impressive."
Gizmo puffed out his chest, clearly delighted. "Of course it is! My genius, your resources, it's a match made in technological heaven."
Ashborn nodded with a grin. "That's why I hired you."
"Damn right you did," Gizmo grinned, then grabbed the second armguard. "And this… this one's your shield. It's got an energy-reactive layer that can reflect physical attacks—bullets, blades, even blunt force."
He strapped it on Ashborn's other arm and activated it. A transparent shimmer extended from the device in a curved arc, humming softly.
"Still working out the power drain issue," Gizmo admitted. "Can only take a few hits before it needs a recharge. But it's perfect for brief confrontations."
Ashborn tested it against a few automated projectiles. The bullets bounced off harmlessly, leaving nothing but a mild vibration in the guard. He nodded in approval. "Not bad at all."
Gizmo folded his arms, clearly pleased. "Now you can defend and fight without drawing too much attention"
Ashborn glanced at both guards, flexing his hands slowly. "Thanks, Gizmo. Hopefully, I'll get a chance to test them against people soon."
Gizmo blinked, tilting his head. "You mean… hopefully you won't, right?"
Ashborn just smiled, the kind of smile that said everything and nothing at once.
Gizmo sighed. He liked Ashborn. A lot.
The guy was weird, sure. Eccentric, unpredictable, occasionally inappropriate. But where everyone else had either dismissed or manipulated Gizmo for his intelligence, Ashborn had done the unthinkable.
He'd believed in him.
Back when Gizmo and the others had first crossed paths with him, they tried to kidnap him for money, but Gizmo never imagined it would lead to something like this.
a new life, a new purpose.
Ashborn had given him and the rest of their odd little crew a second shot at life. He hadn't asked them to change who they were—he'd simply offered them space, tools, and trust. And Gizmo, for the first time in a long while, felt like his ideas were being nurtured instead of exploited or dismissed.
The lab had become more than a workplace, it was a sanctuary. His new colleagues didn't treat him like a ticking time bomb or an amusing sideshow. They respected him. Debated him on his plans. Celebrated his success and offered solutions when he hit a wall. It wasn't Hive Academy. It wasn't crime. It was home.
And all of that… it was because of him. The fearless weirdo with a glint in his eye and a brain that never slept.
Gizmo frowned as he looked at Ashborn, who was giving him a smile. That fearlessness… that was the problem. If Ashborn had superpowers, then fine, maybe the reckless attitude made sense. But he didn't. Not even a little. No invincibility. No powers. No magic.
Just a man. A normal man.
One lucky shot from a desperate thug, and all of this, everything, could come crashing down.
And yet, even after getting outfitted with advanced weapons and defensive gear, Ashborn's first instinct had been 'Hopefully I get to test them on people.'
Gizmo sighed and rubbed his temples and said loudly "Of course that's your takeaway…"
The problem wasn't just danger. It was that Ashborn seemed to enjoy it. He didn't avoid Joker that day, he played the Joker. Grinned at him. It felt like he was flirting with death just to see how close he could get before it pulled him under.
"Relax Gizmo, I will be fine. Thanks again for these, I need to go back, my dear assistant will need me in my office. See you around" Ashborn said with a smile then left.
Gizmo nodded and watched Ashborn leave. Gizmo sighed again then stood up, he wasn't going to let that reckless maniac throw his life away just because he didn't know how to avoid danger and chaos.
Maybe he couldn't change Ashborn's mind, but he'd find a way to outbuild his stupidity. The first step is to improve the shield energy source.
___________
Ashborn walked leisurely down the hallway of the research lab, the weight of the new armguards a strange yet not unwelcome sensation on his arms. They were light, compact, and well-balanced—credit to Gizmo's craftsmanship—but still, they felt foreign to him.
For most of his life—most of his past life, he corrected silently—he fought with steel and instinct. Swords, daggers, spears… and a sense of rhythm that could only be earned through pain and repetition. These modern weapons, however flashy, lacked the intimacy he had come to expect from battle.
Still, he had to admit—there was a certain novelty in launching a pencil-sized missile that could level a truck.
He chuckled to himself, flexing his wrist and hearing the faint click of the launcher's mechanism as it locked back into standby. "Not bad, Gizmo," he muttered under his breath. "You might be a gremlin, but you're a talented gremlin."
The compliment was genuine. Ashborn appreciated good work, and Gizmo had outdone himself. It wasn't that Ashborn needed new weapons—his hidden arsenal, both magical and mundane, already made him more than dangerous. But something about these toys excited the part of him that hadn't felt curious in a long time.
A part of him that had grown numb after centuries of repetition.
His smile faded as his steps slowed, boots clicking against the floor. Trouble. He didn't have to look for it. In this world—this chaos-riddled universe filled with capes and monsters and walking nuclear bombs, trouble was always around the corner.
He didn't mind.
Eventually, there would be something. A villain who stepped too far, a fool who decided to involve Ashborn, a problem that words couldn't solve. And when that moment came… well, now he had a little funny firepower to play with.
Still, his thoughts drifted elsewhere.
Supergirl.
The corner of his mouth twitched.
She was a mess of contradictions—arrogant and righteous, powerful and impulsive. The girl had the strength to lift buildings and the temper to punch through one just because someone bruised her ego. Ashborn didn't fear her, but he certainly didn't trust her either. Not yet.
And today was her first day doing honest work. Construction, no less.
God help the city if she sneezes wrong.
Ashborn could already imagine the headlines.
"Alien Girl Destroys Half-Finished building, Claims It Was an Accident."
"Supergirl Punches Cement Mixer: Five Injured, Mixer Missing."
"Shadow Corp Under Fire After Supergirl's Bad Day."
He shook his head with a small laugh, stepping into the elevator. The doors slid shut with a hiss. Whatever happened, he knew one thing for certain—
It wouldn't be boring.
And deep down, he didn't want it to be.