Chapter 15: SHADOWS MOVE
[DEO Headquarters, Command Center — October 2016, 9:47 PM]
The briefing room fell silent when J'onn activated the main display.
Intercepted communications scrolled across the screen—fragments of coded messages, surveillance photos, financial transaction records. The pieces formed a pattern I recognized immediately, even before J'onn identified it.
"Cadmus," he said. "A new player in National City's alien landscape."
My stomach tightened. I kept my expression neutral, focused on the data like I was seeing it for the first time.
In my previous life, I'd watched Cadmus operate across multiple episodes. Lillian Luthor's anti-alien crusade. The experiments on kidnapped aliens. The connection to Jeremiah Danvers—Kara and Alex's father, supposedly dead, actually working for the enemy.
I couldn't say any of that. The knowledge sat in my chest like a stone.
"What do we know?" Alex asked. Her voice was steady, professional, but I caught the tension in her shoulders.
"Limited intelligence so far." J'onn cycled through the evidence. "They're well-funded—we've traced financial transfers through multiple shell corporations. They're organized—the communication protocols are military-grade. And they're targeting aliens specifically."
Kara's jaw tightened. "Fort Rozz escapees?"
"No. That's what concerns me." J'onn pulled up a list of names. "These are peaceful aliens. Refugees. People who've integrated into Earth society without incident. Someone is hunting them for 'research purposes.'"
The word hung in the air. Research. Such a clinical term for what Cadmus actually did—dissection, experimentation, weaponization.
"Any leads on leadership?" Winn asked, fingers already moving across his tablet.
"None confirmed. The organization is compartmentalized—cells operating independently, minimal cross-communication." J'onn paused. "But the sophistication suggests government or corporate backing. This isn't a fringe group with homemade equipment."
I thought about Lillian Luthor. Her resources. Her influence. Her pathological hatred of aliens born from her daughter's association with Superman.
"Agent Danvers." J'onn turned to Alex. "I want you leading the investigation. Coordinate with city law enforcement, track the financial trails, identify possible facilities."
"Understood."
"Supergirl." His gaze shifted to Kara. "Continue your patrols, but be aware—Cadmus may be designed to counter Kryptonian capabilities specifically. Don't engage unknown threats without backup."
Kara nodded grimly. "I'll be careful."
The briefing continued for another twenty minutes. Tactical considerations, resource allocation, communication protocols. I absorbed it all, mapping the information against what I remembered from the show.
The timeline wasn't matching perfectly. In the original series, Cadmus had emerged later, after Mon-El was more established. My presence was accelerating some events, delaying others. The butterfly effect was real, and I couldn't predict which ripples would prove significant.
After the meeting dispersed, I caught J'onn in the corridor.
"A word?"
He stopped. Studied me with those ancient eyes that always seemed to see more than they should.
"Cadmus," I said carefully. "They're not just anti-alien extremists. They're equipped for Kryptonians. Maybe specifically designed to counter them."
J'onn's expression didn't change. "How do you know this?"
I'd prepared the lie. It still felt uncomfortable. "Daxamite intelligence networks. Before the planet fell, we monitored threats across the sector. There were rumors about Earth-based organizations developing alien countermeasures."
"Rumors from a dead planet's spy network." His tone was flat. "Convenient."
"I'm trying to help."
"Are you?" J'onn stepped closer. "Because I've noticed something interesting about you, Mon-El. You know things you shouldn't. React to information before it's presented. Slip up in small ways that suggest familiarity with concepts that should be alien to you."
My heart hammered. The lie was crumbling. He was too perceptive, too experienced, too observant.
"I'm not your enemy."
"I don't think you are. But I think you're hiding something significant." He held my gaze. "When you're ready to tell me the truth, I'll listen. Until then, I'll accept your 'Daxamite intelligence' at face value."
He walked away before I could respond.
I stood in the empty corridor, trying to slow my breathing. J'onn knew. Maybe not the specifics—the transmigration, the show, the meta-knowledge—but he knew something was wrong. His Martian intuition, his centuries of experience reading people, had picked up on inconsistencies I couldn't hide.
The question was whether he'd push for answers or wait for me to volunteer them.
I found my way to the observation deck, a small platform overlooking National City. The lights spread below like scattered stars, millions of people living their lives unaware of the threats that circled above them.
Cadmus was coming. The knowledge from my previous life painted a clear picture: kidnappings, experiments, eventual confrontation. Jeremiah Danvers would be revealed as a compromised asset. Alex and Kara would be devastated. The entire team would be tested.
I couldn't prevent it. Too many moving pieces, too many unknowns. But maybe I could prepare. Drop hints. Position myself to help when the worst came.
The door opened behind me. Kara.
"J'onn mentioned you gave him information about Cadmus." She joined me at the railing, keeping distance between us. "Old intelligence?"
"Something like that."
"Useful?"
"Possibly." I paused. "They're dangerous, Kara. More dangerous than random alien threats. This is organized, funded, motivated by ideology. They won't stop until aliens are eliminated or they're destroyed."
She was quiet for a moment. "You sound like you've dealt with something similar."
"Haven't everyone? Prejudice dressed up as protection. Fear weaponized into violence." I thought about the show, about season four's explicit parallel to real-world xenophobia. "It's the same pattern across every world. Different targets, same hatred."
"That's cynical."
"It's realistic."
Kara turned to face me. The city lights reflected in her eyes, making them seem to glow.
"When I first came to Earth, I was terrified. Everything was alien—the sounds, the smells, the people. I hid my powers for twelve years because I thought humans would reject me if they knew what I really was."
"What changed?"
"Alex's plane was going to crash. I had a choice: stay hidden and safe, or reveal myself and save her." A faint smile crossed her face. "It wasn't really a choice."
"The people you love," I said quietly. "They're worth the risk."
"Yes." She studied me with new intensity. "You understand that. I've seen it—the way you threw yourself in front of Emma Chen without hesitation. That's not training. That's instinct."
"Maybe."
"It's rare. Even among heroes." She echoed J'onn's words from my debriefing, whether consciously or not. "Cadmus targets aliens because they fear what we can do. But people like you—people who protect without calculating the cost—you're what they should really fear."
I didn't know how to respond to that. The compliment landed strangely, mixing with the guilt of secrets I couldn't share.
"Get some rest," Kara said, moving toward the door. "Tomorrow we continue flight training. And Mon-El?"
"Yes?"
"Whatever you're hiding—J'onn sees it. I see it. We're not going to force the truth out of you." She paused at the threshold. "But secrets have weight. Eventually, the burden becomes heavier than the risk of sharing."
She left me alone with the city lights and the weight of everything I couldn't say.
Cadmus was moving. J'onn suspected something was wrong. Kara was watching me with new attention. The carefully constructed facade of ignorant refugee was developing cracks I couldn't repair.
I thought about the show's trajectory. The prince revelation. The invasion. The exile. So many disasters ahead, so many opportunities for everything to collapse.
But also opportunities to help. To change outcomes. To protect the people who were becoming important to me.
The paper crane still sat in my pocket, slightly more crumpled now from weeks of carrying it. Perfect folds. Impossible precision. Evidence of a life I'd left behind and abilities I was only beginning to understand.
I pulled it out, smoothed its wings, let it sit in my palm.
In my first days here, the crane had been an accident—muscle memory from a dead man creating something that shouldn't exist. Now it felt like a symbol. Something delicate surviving against all odds.
I could be delicate too. Could survive. Could protect others without destroying myself in the process.
J'onn was waiting for truth I couldn't give. Kara was watching for weakness I couldn't show. Cadmus was hunting aliens I couldn't ignore.
The ice was definitely cracking beneath my feet.
But I was learning to fly.
Maybe, when the ice finally broke, I'd be ready to soar instead of fall.
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