Milk_Is_My_Drug
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Chapter 52: Galatea
🕑 Added 2025-05-31 08:14:22 +0000 UTCThe news of Ashborn Black and Supergirl’s miraculous return spread like wildfire. The world embraced Supergirl with open arms, cheering her heroism, welcoming her home as if no time had passed. Her smile, her warmth, it was exactly what people needed in the wake of the tragedy they thought they had suffered.
Ashborn, however, received a different kind of welcome.
Where Kara was met with hugs and celebration, Ashborn was met with lectures. Concerned friends, ex-villains, and even employees approached him with frowns and furrowed brows, all echoing the same sentiment: “What you did was reckless.” “You should’ve protected yourself.”
All he could do was stand there silently, listening, nodding, accepting their words. He understood. They cared.
Fortunately, life moved on.
Things returned to a semblance of normal—until they didn’t.
Late one evening, while seated at his desk reading reports and sipping tea, a soft knock echoed, not at the door, but at the window. Ashborn raised a brow, turned around, and paused.
Hovering outside was a woman.
She looked exactly like Kara… but older. Her features were more defined, her eyes sharper, her expression laced with confident amusement. Her blonde hair was cut short and neat, and her attire, a bold, swimsuit-like outfit with a suggestive chest window, only enhanced the look.
She smiled and waved, then tapped the window again.
Ashborn sighed and pressed a button on his desk. With a soft hiss, the window opened, and the mysterious woman floated inside, her presence commanding.
“So,” she said with a smirk, “do you like the new look?”
Ashborn tilted his head slightly. “I don’t recall meeting you before. Who might you be?”
The woman floated closer, her voice playful. “Can’t you recognize me?”
Of course he could, more than she thought. But he had planned on playing the ignorant guy.
Without a word, he picked up his phone and dialed a number. The woman looked puzzled, watching him curiously.
When the call picked up, Ashborn asked, “Hi, did you clone Supergirl into an older, hotter version?”
The woman’s eyes widened.
On the other end of the line, Amanda Waller’s voice came through, surprised. “How did you know?”
Ashborn replied dryly. “If I may suggest, you should change her outfit. The cleavage window is not needed and inappropriate.” Then he hung up.
He turned to the woman. “So, you’re a clone of Supergirl and they don’t know you’re here. Why are you visiting me, Ms. Clone?”
The woman opened her mouth, then shut it again. This guy really was as sharp and strange as the rumors suggested.
Finally, she asked, “Aren’t you afraid to be alone with me?”
Ashborn shrugged. “I have no reason to be.”
She stared at him for a moment, then laughed lightly. “You really are something.”
Her eyes flicked to the drinks cabinet.
Ashborn noticed. “Forgive me, I’ve been a terrible host.”
He stood and walked over, pouring her a drink without breaking eye contact. She accepted the glass with amusement.
“So,” Ashborn asked again, “how should I help you, Ms. Clone?”
“I don’t like being called that,” she said, taking a sip. “My name is Galatea, but I prefer to be called Tea”
“Tea it is.”
She downed the drink in one go, then stepped closer to him. “Supergirl is fixated on you. So I came to see for myself… and I admit, I like what I see already.”
Ashborn tilted his head slightly. “Thank you,” he said, his curiosity piqued.
[Where is this going?] he wondered.
Galatea reached out and gently and held his chin with two fingers. “I already like you. And I’m here to have some fun.” She licked her lips.
Ashborn’s smile didn’t waver. “I see. I’ve charmed both the original and the clone. Or… are you trying to prove you’re better than the one I rejected?”
Galatea froze, her playful smirk fading. “Careful what you say,” she warned. “I can be dangerous.”
Ashborn chuckled softly. “You’ve got it backward. You should be careful… because you’re here alone with me.”
Suddenly, Galatea’s body weakened. Her knees buckled.
She looked down, Ashborn’s hand was holding a glowing green dagger. She didn’t understand where this dagger came from.
Still, she stumbled back, but he grabbed her chin and kept her close. Her strength drained by the second. She dropped to her knees, her breath shallow, her limbs unsteady.
Ashborn knelt in front of her, calmly sheathing the dagger.
With a soft, almost tender touch, he caressed her cheek, his voice smooth and dangerous.
“Being alone with me is dangerous, Tea.” Ashborn said with a smile.
Galatea stared at him with a panicked look and a flicker of fear in her eyes. Meeting Ashborn’s gaze, she knew, truly knew, that she was entirely at his mercy. Her knees still weak from the kryptonite exposure, her breath uneven, she could do nothing but wait for his next move.
Ashborn, however, did nothing.
Without a word, he stood up and walked back to his desk. His tone was calm, casual. “There’s still sunlight left for you to charge. Leave once you can fly again.”
Galatea blinked, surprised. Warily, she pushed herself up slightly and looked at him. “Aren’t you going to do… anything to me?”
Ashborn raised a brow and turned his head slightly toward her. “What are you expecting exactly?” His voice wasn’t mocking, just honestly confused. “I don’t see a reason to kill a person for being flirtatious… or jealous.”
He paused, then tilted his head. “Unless… you’re into rape play? Seriously, what are they teaching you?”
Her jaw dropped.
First, the fact he called her a person stunned her. And then, that question. Her brain short-circuited for a second. When exactly did she imply she was into that kind of stuff? She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again.
And then decided [nope, not addressing that part.]
Instead, she focused on the word that really stood out.
“Do you… think I’m a person?” she asked quietly, but seriously.
Ashborn didn’t look up from the desk he had returned to. “I don’t like those cliché scripts where someone says a few words and suddenly the other falls in love.” He glanced her way and added offhandedly, “But yes. I think you’re a person. You can speak, think, feel jealousy, even. Doesn’t matter if you came from a womb or a lab tube.”
He paused again. “But I also think you’re inferior to the original. Kara has a clear will. She’s trying to find herself, define what she wants. You? You don’t seem to have any of that.”
Silence hung in the room for a few long seconds.
Galatea’s face shifted rapidly, first annoyed, then a smile began to form, and finally an expression of raw anger.
“I take it back,” she snapped. “I don’t like you one bit. You’re the worst human I’ve ever seen.”
She turned on her heel, walked to the open window behind him, and with shaky control over her body, flew away into the sky.
Ashborn didn’t move. Once she was gone, he simply reached over and pressed the button on his desk, the window sliding closed behind her with a soft hiss.
The idea that Cadmus might create Galatea in this world had always been in the back of his mind. He always knew of the possibility. But for her to seek him out like that, out of the blue, it was unexpected. Ashborn wondered if this Galatea will have the same fate as the one he remembered.
She was free to resist and choose but she chose to enslave herself. Ashborn shook his head and sighed.
He pushed the meeting to the back of his mind.
___________
Lately, Kara hadn’t been sleeping well.
Each time she closed her eyes, she was greeted with disturbing images, visions of herself doing terrible things. In her dreams, she’d fly through cities not to save, but to destroy. She’d strike down innocent people, crush through buildings, and leave ruin in her wake. Her hands, in those dreams, were stained with blood.
She’d wake up sweating, gasping for air, heart pounding like she had truly been there. The dread clung to her like a second skin. Was she somehow doing these things in her sleep? Were she being used without her knowledge.
But none of those nightmares compared to the most recent one.
In this dream, she wasn’t hurting strangers, she was going after Ashborn.
And what chilled her more than anything was how he looked at her. He didn’t recognize her as Kara but as someone else.
“Ms Clone” she murmured.
His words echoed in her waking mind with sharp clarity. It wasn’t just a dream. It felt too real. And worse, his acknowledgment struck a nerve, because in the dream, he made it clear she was better than the clone. He understood her. He saw her not just as Supergirl, but as someone trying to carve her own identity, someone trying to find a purpose.
And yet…
“I don’t like those cliché scripts” he had said. That line haunted her just as much as the rest. Didn’t that exactly describe her.
Ashborn always saw through things, saw through people. If the dream was more than a nightmare, more than random neurons firing, then perhaps she has some link to this clone and Ashborn already knew who was behind it all… or at least figured it out.
Kara sat up in her room. She couldn’t keep this to herself anymore.
These dreams, these visions, they may not be dreams.
They were visions from someone else, a clone, and the Justice League had to know.
Comments
Bluepikachu23
Sigh I wish for more
