Blown away

Spectators lined the advanced training room simulator, their eyes fixed on the intense spar unfolding before them. Aqualad and Superboy, two titans of training, were locked in a delicate dance of power and precision. Superboy, ever the focused combatant, held back his might, channeling his energy into perfecting each technique. Aqualad, mirroring his discipline, did not shy away from exerting his full strength.

The ground beneath their feet was no ordinary surface; it was the heart of the simulator, a marvel of technology that scored their every move, offered strategic advice for improvement, and monitored their vitals through intricate holograms.

Aqualad adopted a defensive stance, an echo of Superboy's own guarded posture. Despite his efforts to control his temper, Superboy's impatience simmered beneath the surface. With a burst of speed, he lunged forward, aiming an uppercut that narrowly missed Aqualad's chin.

Reacting with lightning reflexes, Aqualad ensnared Superboy's arm with his leg, immobilizing him. As Superboy reached with his free hand, Aqualad conjured his water magic, ensnaring it in a liquid grip. Superboy, feeling the 'mode', tapped into his raw power, tearing his hand from the aquatic bind. In a swift counter, he hurled Aqualad across the room.

But Aqualad was not to be outdone. With acrobatic grace, he twisted mid-air, landing deftly behind Superboy. In one fluid motion, he locked both of Superboy's arms, halting any further resistance. The spar concluded, "That was good, Superboy, your issue is that you are too impatient, your anger blinds you from an opportunity to simply lock aqualad with both arms to stop further movement."

Black Canary turned to Aqualad with a nod of approval. "That was an impressive display of skill and technique. Well done," she commended. Aqualad, absorbing every word, responded with a respectful, "Thank you, Black Canary." Together, Superboy and Aqualad rejoined the lineup of their peers.

The session drew to a close, and it was time for the newcomer to step into the spotlight. "Alright, let's see what our new member has got," Black Canary announced. She scanned the lineup. "Who wants to take him on?" Silence hung in the air for a moment before she decided, "Very well, Asher, you're up against me."

Black Canary is an attractive young woman, with long blonde hair, blue eyes and a slender yet toned build. She is known for her distinctive costume, which includes a black, one-piece bustier-leotard combination under a blue lapelled jacket, with gray stockings with seams up the front and back. She wears black, heavy, calf-length boots, black fingerless gloves that go past the elbow to the biceps, and a black choker.

Asher moved into the combat zone with a calm stride, his presence alone commanding attention. The simulation system whirred to life, scanning both combatants as a countdown projected overhead. 3… 2… 1… Battle! Asher stood motionless, an enigma with no stance to read. "Feeling confident, are we?" Black Canary taunted as she charged. She swooped low for a leg sweep, but as her attack neared Asher, it halted as if hitting an invisible barrier, unable to make contact.

Black Canary retreated and armed herself with batons, now wielding them with a warrior's grace. She launched herself at Asher again, this time soaring into the air and executing a trio of flips to amplify her strike. Her batons descended toward Asher's head with lethal intent, yet they too were rendered ineffective, dissipating upon impact. In mid-air, she used Asher as a pivot to gain distance. As her batons clattered to the ground, they detonated, shrouding the area in smoke. When the haze lifted, Asher remained unscathed, standing as still and unfazed as when the battle began.

Black Canary's voice wavered, a mix of determination and concern lacing her words. "Okay…" she began, her tone betraying the conflict within. "Fine. We'll do this the hard way then." She steadied herself, taking a deep breath that filled her lungs to capacity. With a resolute exhale, she unleashed a sonic scream, sending waves of sound cascading towards Asher. Initially, they seemed to falter against an unseen force, but gradually, they gained momentum, pushing Asher back inch by inch.

Yet, Black Canary was far from finished. She paused, gathering her strength once more, and then let loose a scream that dwarfed the first in intensity. This time, the force was overwhelming, propelling Asher upward with such ferocity that he crashed through the ceiling and vanished from sight.

Throughout the ordeal, Asher's mind had been adrift in a sea of introspection. He pondered the essence of his existence, the lessons of magic he had absorbed, and the enigmatic Raven and her father. Was his creation a means to an end? Had he fulfilled his purpose? Would his existence fade upon completion of his mission? These thoughts swirled in his mind until a sudden itch snapped him back to the present. "OOOH SHIT!!!" he exclaimed, employing his newly acquired vocabulary.

Outside, Happy Harbor basked in the serenity of a perfect day. The sky was a clear blue canvas, and the sun bestowed its warm blessings upon the earth. It was a day where nothing could mar the beauty—except, perhaps, for the sight of a figure ablaze, careening through the sky, screaming in a blend of panic and pain. "AHHHH!!!" The spectacle was both terrifying and mesmerizing, as flesh regenerated and combusted in a relentless cycle.

Black Canary's heart sank as she witnessed the chaos. "Oh no," she murmured, and without hesitation, she led the team out of the cave, following the trail of distress. The anguished cries began to wane as they neared their destination, and upon arrival, they were met with a sight that chilled them to the bone—a mound of ash where Asher once stood.

Black Canary's voice pierced the silence, a cocktail of dread and despair. "No, no, no, ASHER!!" Her cry reverberated through the air, a stark contrast to the stillness that followed the chaos. Another figure, sharing her alarm, hastened towards the remnants of the turmoil. With a graceful gesture and a flicker of telekinetic prowess, she scattered the ashes that had settled like a grim snow.

Beneath the gray veil, a miracle lay in repose. Asher, against all odds, was a vision of tranquility amid the havoc. His form was unmarred by the inferno that had raged moments before. Naked yet unblemished, he lay there, his dignity intact thanks to a fortuitous turn with his body face down, that shielded him from prying eyes. The onlookers stood in stunned silence, marveling at the resilience of their comrade.

Stirred by Black Canary's distant cries, Asher's consciousness flickered to life. His head swiveled from side to side, taking in the expanse of sand stretching around him. The morning's breath, cool and invigorating, caressed his back. With hands pressing into the granular bed below, he pushed himself up, only to be catapulted skyward with a startled "Whoa!!" A mere fraction of his strength—a 2 on a scale of 10—had sent him soaring, he knew he was light but not this light.

A sudden glare forced his eyes shut, a brilliant assault from the orb that ruled the day. As he descended gently back to earth, he dared to look once more. The sky greeted him with its vast, cerulean canvas, dotted with tufts of white that drifted lazily by. And there, in its fiery throne, was the sun—the source of his turmoil, yet now, strangely, his ally. Panic rose like a tide within him, only to ebb away as he realized no harm was coming. Instead, a sense of well-being enveloped him, a subtle fortification of his being. He could feel his strength burgeoning, albeit at a glacial pace, like a 0.0001 increment with each second under the sun's watchful eye.

Before Asher could revel in his newfound euphoria, he found himself gently descending, guided by an unseen force, towards a figure shrouded in purple. Before a word could escape his lips, fabric materialized from the ether, wrapping around him. It was only then that he realized his nakedness, a flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks although not seen. "Don't worry, I made sure to cover you, before anyone saw," the cloaked figure assured him.

A wave of gratitude washed over Asher, and he opened his mouth to express his thanks to Raven, but another question pressed at the forefront of his mind. "What about you?" he asked her, while she looked him dead in the eye, "I saw nothing," she responded firmly, yet Asher couldn't recall seeing her avert her gaze even once. How could she have wrapped him so thoroughly without witnessing his bare form? He pondered calling her bluff when she preempted him with a question of her own. "Are you okay?"

Her concern was palpable, even if her expression remained unreadable. "Yeah, I'm fine," Asher replied, his smile genuine and bright, eliciting reactions from the onlookers. "Oh look, he smiles," one remarked. "He has a beautiful smile," another observed. A third voice chimed in, half-joking, half-resigned, "Damn it, we have another good-looking guy now!"

Asher's feets touched the ground, and he steadied himself, the rush of the fall still echoing in his ears. "What happened?" he managed to ask, his voice a blend of confusion and the remnants of adrenaline.

Kid Flash, with his characteristic speed, didn't miss a beat. "You were blown away," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "It happens to the best of us."

Robin, however, harbored a sterner sentiment. "Well either way you got what you deserve, next time don't be so arrogant." His words cut through the air, a reminder of the rift that Asher's actions had created within the team. To most, Asher's well-being was a binary concern—alive or dead. Now assured of his survival, they were ready to disengage, to them, he remained the one who had endangered their lives.

Seeing this, Black Canary's voice cut through the tension, her command silencing the murmurs. "Enough!" she declared. Her eyes met each of theirs, and one by one, they looked away, the weight of her disappointment evident. "He's your teammate," she reminded them, her voice softening as she turned to Asher. "And he almost died today."

They had been briefed on Asher's reasons for the attack—his senses overloading, his control slipping away. But knowledge did not equate to forgiveness, nor did it erase the vivid memories of fear that still clung to their skin.

"Does understanding why he attacked us mean we should just accept it?" Robin's voice broke the silence, his words sharp as knives, echoing the team's collective unease. "He almost killed us, and now we're supposed to call him a teammate?"

The word 'teammate' hung in the air, a bitter pill they were all forced to swallow. The notion seemed absurd, impossible even. How could they stand shoulder to shoulder with someone who had once stood against them with lethal intent?

"No," Kid Flash said, the word slicing through any pretense of camaraderie. "It's never going to happen." His stance was resolute, a clear reflection of the barriers that had been erected in their minds.

Approaching Asher, Black Canary's demeanor softened. Her hand found its way to his shoulder, a gesture of solidarity and regret. "I am so glad you are alright. I am so sorry," she confessed, her voice quivering with the weight of unshed tears. "If you had died, I would never forgive myself." The words were a whisper, a fragile bridge trying to span the chasm of what-ifs. She enveloped him in an embrace, her arms a bastion against the uncertainty. "I am so, so sorry. Please Asher, can you forgive me?"

Asher, still adrift in the fog of his recollections, felt the sincerity of her apology. He remembered the sensation of flight, the void that followed, and the realization that his distraction had been the catalyst. With a gentle firmness, he eased out of her embrace, his newfound control a testament to his evolving self-awareness. "It's fine, I should have paid more attention," he assured her, his voice steady, a beacon of resilience in the storm of emotions.

Asher's revelation hit him like a burst of sunlight after an eternity in the dark. For the first time, he could bask in the sun's glow without the gnawing fear that had shadowed his every step. The realization that he was growing stronger by the second was intoxicating, a surge of power that coursed through his veins, invigorating and potent. His gaze drifted to Powergirl, the source of this newfound resilience. The blood he had taken from her, the life force he had nearly drained, it had altered him, mingled with his own to grant him this gift. And Superman's blood, the 'Man of Steel' himself, had contributed to this miracle. The temptation to take more was there, a whisper in the back of his mind, promising even greater strength.

But Asher shook his head, dispelling the thought as quickly as it came. That path had benefits but the risk far outweigh them, that was a road he refused to travel.

Raven, ever watchful, had been by his side throughout. She caught the fleeting look in his eyes, the internal struggle briefly etched on his face, and it stirred a protective fierceness within her. She glided to him, her presence a silent comfort, and whispered a warning, "If you do anything to my friends, you will wish you never existed."

The words struck a chord in Asher, a reminder of the fragile thread upon which his life balanced. "I already do, Raven," he replied, his voice a low murmur filled with a complex tapestry of emotions. With that, he turned away, his steps carrying him back to the sanctuary of the cave, in search of something as simple as new clothes.

(A/N: 100 Powerstones for next Chapter!)