Haruka sat in his dimly lit bedroom, staring at the wall. Lena Luthor's piercing green eyes seemed to bore into him even in his memories. The encounter at the hotel replayed in his mind - her confident approach, the video evidence of his Kamen Rider transformation.
He tried to piece together when she might have captured the footage. The Lexcorp party seemed unlikely. No, the video looked like it was taken after their battle with Calton.
If it was after he battle, how did she track him? Haruka's mind raced with possibilities.
"Aahh! I'm getting nowhere."
He stood up, deciding he needed to clear his head. Grabbing his jacket from the hook, Haruka paused. Something caught his eye at the back of the jacket.
A small bug was attached to the fabric.
Haruka plucked the tiny device from his jacket, turning it over in his palm. How had it gotten there? His mind raced back to earlier—Superboy's casual pat on the back. Was that when the bug was planted?
A chill ran down his spine. Did that mean Superboy was collaborating with Lena Luthor?
"That bastard..." he muttered, his voice tight with betrayal. "I trusted him."
Haruka crushed the tiny bug between his fingers, his jaw clenched. The delicate electronic device crumbled into microscopic fragments, leaving nothing but a faint metallic dust on his palm. He brushed it away, knowing that destroying one bug didn't mean others weren't watching.
Superboy's betrayal stung. They had fought together, saved lives together, and now it seemed the young hero might be working with Lena Luthor. The thought made Haruka's blood simmer with a quiet rage.
He pulled out his phone, activating the Candroid communication channel. The small robotic scouts he had deployed to monitor Lena Luthor's movements were his eyes and ears. "Report," he commanded.
The response came not as clear digital communication, but as low, disappointed growls. The Candroids had found nothing substantial - no clear evidence, no revealing movements.
"Don't worry," Haruka said, his voice calm despite the underlying tension. "Keep monitoring. Something will break eventually."
The Candroids acknowledged his command, their mechanical signals indicating continued surveillance of Lena Luthor's activities. Haruka knew patience was key. In the world of heroes and secrets, information was a weapon, and he was determined to stay one step ahead.
Haruka lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The weight of Lena Luthor's discovery pressed down on him like a physical burden. His recent encounters with Superboy and the potential compromise of his secret identity demanded caution. He would need to reduce his nighttime patrols and minimize communication with Kara to protect her. The risk of exposing Supergirl's identity was too great. For now, he would retreat, gather his thoughts, and wait. The silence of his room echoed with the unspoken tension of his predicament, a temporary stillness before whatever storm might come next.
***
In the dimly lit streets of National City, a cool autumn breeze rustled the fallen leaves. Sarah Jenkins walked briskly, her heels clicking against the pavement. The streetlights cast long shadows, creating pockets of darkness between each illuminated patch.
A voice suddenly cut through the night's silence. "Excuse me, madam," it called, rich with an accent that seemed to drift from another era - crisp, precise, with hints of Eastern European aristocracy.
Sarah turned. A tall man in an impeccable black suit stood beneath a streetlamp. His pale skin contrasted sharply with the dark fabric, and his piercing eyes locked onto hers. Something about his gaze was hypnotic, compelling.
"Come," he said, his voice a smooth, velvet command. "Follow me."
Sarah felt her will dissolving. Her rational mind screamed that something was wrong, but her body moved of its own accord. Her feet carried her towards the man, each step mechanical and precise.
The man walked ahead, and Sarah followed. Her consciousness seemed to drift, like a leaf caught in a current. The city streets blurred around her, sounds becoming muffled and distant.
They arrived before a grand mansion. Its architecture spoke of another time - gothic windows with intricate tracery, stone gargoyles perched at the corners, dark ivy climbing its weathered walls. The house seemed to breathe with an ancient, brooding presence.
The man turned, his eyes still holding Sarah in their mesmerizing grip. "We have arrived," he announced, his accent thick and melodramatic.
The grand mansion's interior was a testament to opulent, timeless elegance. Antique furniture gleamed with polished mahogany and rich velvet upholstery. Crystal chandeliers cast soft, golden light across intricate Persian rugs and ornate wall sconces. Sarah's eyes wandered, captivated by the exquisite details - silver-framed paintings, delicate porcelain vases, and intricate marble statues that seemed to watch her every move.
The man stood directly behind her, close enough that she could feel his cold breath against her neck. His voice was a low, predatory whisper. "You smell... delicious."
Before Sarah could react, the man's form shifted. Sharp fangs emerged, gleaming in the soft chandelier light. In a lightning-fast motion, he sank his teeth deep into her neck. Sarah's body went rigid, then began to shrivel, her vitality draining rapidly.
Her limp form collapsed to the ornate Persian rug, lifeless.
The vampire stepped back, licking his lips. "What a delicious meal," he said, his accent crisp and cold.
In the opulent mansion's grand hall, Anur Vladias turned from the lifeless body of Sarah, his recent victim. His keen senses detected another presence before she even spoke. As he pivoted, his aristocratic features composed themselves into a mask of refined servitude.
"Lady Astra. How may I serve you this wonderful evening," Anur said, his accent melodic and precise. He bowed slightly, one hand elegantly placed across his chest in a gesture of deference.
Astra stepped forward, her Kryptonian presence filling the room with an almost electric intensity. Her dark hair was pulled back severely, her posture regal and controlled. "Anur Vladias, I hope I'm not interrupting."
Anur straightened, his eyes meeting hers. "Not at all, my lady. You are most welcome at any hour." He gestured toward a nearby ornate chair, inviting her to sit. "I trust this visit is not merely a social call?"
Astra's lips curved into the slightest hint of a smile. "I want your help in dealing with the superheroes in National City."
Without hesitation, Anur bowed deeply. "I will gladly help."
///
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