With Supergirl’s gift of flight and Mon-El’s superspeed, they were the first to arrive at the museum. When they entered the building, a security guard groaned and approached them.
“Not you two again,” he said. “We just finished cleaning up from your last visit!”
“For which I gave you two verses of the apology song, Fred,” Mon-El told the security guard. “But I see where this is going.” He massaged his throat and hummed.
Supergirl rested a hand on Mon-El’s arm to stop him. “Sir, if we don’t catch the man who’s about to steal one of your exhibits, there might not be a museum left for you to clean up,” she told the security guard.
He gave Supergirl a dubious look. “Not possible. We’ve tightened security at all the exits and installed extra cameras. If something shady goes down, we’ll spot it.”
As he spoke the words, Supergirl heard an echo of his voice say something different.
I know how to do my job, lady.
Frowning, Supergirl stuck a finger in her ear and wiggled it. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“I said if something shady goes down, we’ll spot it,” Fred the security guard repeated. But again, there was an echo of his voice.
I said I know how to do my job.
Supergirl’s eyebrows raised, and Mon-El nudged her.
“You OK?”
“I think so.” Supergirl felt a tingle in her palm. The one with the orichalcum scar.
With her new power, she wasn’t just hearing the security guard’s words; she was hearing what he really meant to say.
“I know you just want to do your job,” she told him. “But right now, that means getting everyone out of the building quickly and quietly.”
Fred didn’t budge.
Supergirl sighed and turned to Mon-El, who stepped closer to the security guard.
“Look, Fred. This is an emergency, and you’re the only person we can count on. If something goes wrong, we need you to protect all the visitors.”
Fred puffed out his chest. “Me?”
“The one and only.” Mon-El clapped the security guard on the shoulder.
A second later, the one and only Fred had a twin.
Supergirl cringed. “Mon-El, your new power . . .”
The Daxamite glanced down at the security uniform he was now wearing. “I can totally explain this,” he told an openmouthed Fred.
“Don’t bother,” Fred said in a faint voice, backing away. “I’ll go . . . uh . . . clear the rooms.”
“Can you point us toward the sunken treasure exhibit before you go?” asked Supergirl.
The security guard pulled a map from his back pocket. “Take this hall all the way to the end and turn left.” He fixed her with pleading eyes. “And try not to break anything.”
“Alex?” Supergirl spoke into her comm as Fred jogged away. “Mon-El and I are going to move in on Dr. Wanabi.”
“OK,” her sister said. “We’re almost there. Be careful!”
Supergirl smirked at Mon-El’s security guard guise. “Do you want to charge in like that, or turn into yourself first?”
“I’d love to be me, but I don’t know how.” Mon-El rubbed his neck. “Unless you want to knock me out. That seems to work.”
“Let’s save that for when you deserve it,” teased Supergirl. “Yesterday when you changed into me, you said you wanted to connect with me. Can you try connecting with yourself?”
“I guess.” Mon-El frowned and placed a hand on his own shoulder.
Supergirl snickered. “Not like that. Connect with who you are on the inside.” She placed her hands on both sides of his face. “Close your eyes.”
Mon-El did as she instructed. “Shouldn’t we be chanting and burning incense for this?”
“Shh.” She released him. “Think about everything that makes you who you are. Your sense of humor and your bravery and how good you are with people.”
“Let’s forget Dr. Wanabi,” said Mon-El. “We can just stay here, and you can keep saying nice things about me.” He smiled at Supergirl and opened his eyes.
Eyes she recognized.
“It’s working!” she cheered. “Keep going.”
Mon-El closed his eyes again, and soon all his features replaced Fred’s.
“Welcome back,” Supergirl told him, planting a kiss on his nose. “Now let’s go save the day!”
She and Mon-El sped past various exhibits until they reached the end of the hall. Just past the left turn, they spotted Dr. Wanabi sitting on a bench. Thankfully, the bars of orichalcum were still stacked inside a display case.
“Dr. Wanabi!” Supergirl approached him. “You’re coming with us.”
Dr. Wanabi gasped and jumped to his feet. “Supergirl!”
“That’s right,” she said with a smug smile. “Mon-El, grab the orichalcum while I have a little chat with Dr. Wanabi.”
Mon-El didn’t move. “With my bare hands? After what it did to you?”
Supergirl swiveled her head to look at him. “If you’re worried, then use your jacket,” she whispered.
“Sure,” he said. Then hesitated. “Except, I just bought it. What if—”
“Mon-El!” she said in a sharper voice.
“Right,” he said, hurrying forward. “OK.” He reached toward the display case, then thought better of it and squatted beside it. “Sorry, Fred.” Wrapping his arms around the base of the display, Mon-El ripped the whole thing from the floor.
Supergirl winced but grabbed Dr. Wanabi’s arm. “We’re going on a little trip.”
Dr. Wanabi shook his head. “You should leave if you don’t want to get hurt. I’ve got people coming to help me.”
“Yeah? Well, so do we,” said Supergirl.
Suddenly, she heard the snap of a whip and felt a sharp sting at her waist. Supergirl glanced down and saw what appeared to be a thick blond braid wrapped around her middle.
The braid tightened, jerking Supergirl backward into Mon-El, who tumbled over and dropped the display stand. The glass case shattered when it hit the floor, and the orichalcum bars spilled out with metallic clunks.
Mon-El peeled off his jacket and tossed it over the orichalcum bars, scooping them up just as a blast of fire shot in front of him. With a yelp, he leaped back into a slimy ooze, losing all traction beneath his feet. Mon-El slipped and skidded, fighting to stay upright, while a man in green swim trunks slid past him through the slime.
“Thanks for wrapping my to-go order!” the man said, hefting the contents of Mon-El’s jacket under one arm.
“Hey! Put that down!” Mon-El shouted, skittering toward him.
“Honey, would you do the honors?” The man in the swim trunks nodded to a woman holding a ball of flame.
Mon-El’s eyes widened. “Uh-oh.”
Across the room, Supergirl struggled with several braids that had lashed around each of her limbs. The little girl who owned them cackled with glee.
“I really hate to do this,” Supergirl told her, “but it’s time for you to get a haircut.”
She squinted at each braid, singeing it off with a blast from her heat vision.
The girl screamed and dropped to her knees, gathering up her fallen locks.
Supergirl ran toward Mon-El to help him, but something grabbed one of her ankles and tripped her. Supergirl turned and saw a hand jutting out from a portal in the floor. Then another hand appeared and a man began to pull himself up, using Supergirl as an anchor. She zapped him with her heat vision, but the man’s skin simply absorbed the blast.
“Oh, that can’t be good,” she murmured.
The man’s weight pulled at her leg, causing her to slide toward the portal. Supergirl lay flat on her stomach and shot several holes in the floor with her heat vision, using the holes as handholds.
“Mon-El!” she shouted. “We’re about to have more company!”
“Great!” he shouted back, ducking a fireball. “I could use a fair fight!”
The man climbing through the portal finally emerged and released Supergirl. While he was still on his hands and knees, Supergirl rolled onto her back and kicked him hard in one shoulder.
The man grinned but didn’t budge. It was as if he were absorbing all her attacks, like a human sponge.
Supergirl scrambled to her feet and charged toward Mon-El’s fiery attacker.
“Don’t worry about me! Stop Mr. Slick over there!” Mon-El pointed to the man in swim trunks who was skating down the hall on slime-covered feet, carrying Mon-El’s orichalcum-filled jacket.
Supergirl flew after the man and tackled him, but he wriggled free and skated off with a backward glance and a laugh.
“Guess I’m the one that got away!” crowed Mr. Slick.
Alex stepped in his path holding a harpoon gun. “Wanna bet?”
She pulled the trigger and a massive net shot from the gun, entangling Mr. Slick. He struggled to free himself, but magnetic weights at the net’s edges clamped firmly to one another and to the orichalcum.
Supergirl landed by her sister while DEO agents ran past them into the fray. “That was amazing! How did you know to bring that?” She gestured to the harpoon gun.
“After J’onn talked with you about repercussions, he and Winn researched the residents of Shady Oaks, trying to think of powers they might develop.” Alex nodded to the net. “That was actually meant for a fishmonger.” She stopped two DEO agents and pointed out Mr. Slick. “Jackson, Whitby, take this man and what he’s carrying to the van.”
“You got it,” one of them said.
Alex looked at Supergirl. “Shall we?” She nodded toward the commotion in the next room.
“Not without me,” said a deep voice muffled by metal and mask. Guardian appeared beside them, and the trio ran toward the exhibit room, where the chaos had tripled in Supergirl’s absence.
Mon-El and six DEO agents were battling a dozen supercitizens while Dr. Wanabi cowered in the corner. The woman with the fireballs was in handcuffs, and Mon-El was now wrestling the Human Sponge. Supergirl raced across the room to help, and Alex started to follow—until an oversized marionette leaped onto her back, waving a broken piece of glass. With a swipe of his shield, Guardian sent the puppet flying.
Alex gawked at it. “Looks like I’ve got my nightmare lined up for tonight.”
“Where did all these people come from?” Guardian asked, sidestepping a man with horns.
“There’s . . . a . . . portal!” Supergirl said, freeing herself from a headlock. “We have to disrupt it! Winn?”
“Let me think, let me think!” his voice answered in her ear. “Oh! Have any objects come through the portal alone? Like a gun or a knife . . . something not carbon-based?”
“Does Pinocchio’s evil twin count?” asked Alex.
“That’s Stringleshanks!” the marionette screeched, lunging for her again.
Alex ducked, and the marionette went hurtling past.
“As disturbing as it sounds, chances are that’s a real person,” said Winn. “Whoever created the portal probably can’t transport just nonliving things, so tossing in a vase or something should do the trick.”
“Let’s hope so!” Supergirl picked up the pedestal Mon-El had ripped from the floor and hurled it at the portal. As the stone pedestal passed through, the edges of the portal fizzled. A second later, the portal disappeared, leaving the pedestal half-wedged in the floor.
The disappearance of their escape route seemed to spook the supercitizens. They stopped attacking and started running for the exits.
Several of the DEO agents cheered, and one shouted, “We beat ’em!”
Alex frowned and grabbed him by the arm. “Jackson! What are you doing here?”
Jackson glanced at her in confusion. “Ma’am?”
Alex pointed toward the exit. “I told you and Whitby to wait at the van!”
The other DEO agent just stared. “Ma’am, I’ve been in here since we arrived.”
Alex froze. “What?”
Supergirl approached her sister. “What’s going on?”
Alex tapped her earpiece. “Whitby, status report.”
No response.
“Whitby, do you copy?” Alex ran from the room.
“Alex! Talk to me!” Supergirl flew after her.
“I had Jackson and Whitby take that supercitizen we caught to the van,” Alex said between breaths, “but Jackson’s been inside the whole time. So unless he can be in two places at once . . .”
Supergirl’s jaw tightened. “Whitby’s with two of the evil supercitizens.”
She surged ahead and out the front doors to the DEO van. Whitby lay unconscious on the ground next to a pile of shredded netting.
Mr. Slick and the Jackson impostor were gone.
And so was all the orichalcum.