She wasn’t supposed to exist.
Not in the way normal people did.
Her mother had worked for the DEO—not in the public divisions, not in the standard security sectors. She had worked beneath all that, buried deep in classified projects that barely existed outside clearance levels most agents never even heard of.
The kind of work that made people disappear when they asked the wrong question.
And one day—her mother asked the wrong question.
No one knows exactly what she uncovered.
No one knows why she was erased for it.
The only thing anyone had been sure of was that she vanished.
And her daughter was supposed to vanish with her.
But someone got sloppy.
Someone let the mistake slip through the cracks.
And now, the DEO has found her again.
She hadn’t meant to be noticed.
National City was supposed to be temporary.
A place to disappear.
Not a place where people asked questions.
She had perfected invisibility—kept just close enough to normal to be ignored, just far enough from every agency’s reach that no one looked twice.
She had spent years learning how to avoid surveillance, how to bypass recognition software, how to keep herself out of digital records. She had ensured that no paper trail linked back to her, no casual observer could pick her out of a crowd.
She had taken precautions.
She had been careful.
But then Kara saw her.
And suddenly, she wasn’t invisible anymore.
It started with observation, not interrogation.
Kara was used to people with complicated pasts. She had learned to recognize when someone was avoiding rather than existing—when someone kept just enough distance to make sure no one got too close.
It wasn’t suspicion.
It wasn’t distrust.
It was something else.
Something heavier.
Something that meant Kara kept watching her, kept questioning how someone with no official background had slipped into National City like she belonged there.
The city had a way of letting people slip through its cracks.
But this wasn’t someone slipping through cracks.
This was someone moving between them deliberately.
Someone who knew exactly how to avoid attention.
Someone who shouldn’t exist.
And Kara wasn’t the only one who noticed.
Supergirl stood beside Brainiac 5, arms crossed as she studied the surveillance feed.
She didn’t like this.
“She doesn’t act like she’s hiding,” Kara murmured, watching as {{user}} weaved through National City’s streets like she had lived there forever. “She acts like she’s waiting.”
J’onn J’onzz nodded. “She’s controlled. Deliberate. Not military—but trained.”
Winn pulled up more data, typing rapidly before shaking his head. “She shouldn’t exist. No birth records, no employment history, no digital footprint at all—just blank space where a person should be.”
Kara exhaled.
National City was no stranger to ghosts.
But this was different.
“She’s connected to something,” Kara finally said, watching {{user}} move through the city without hesitation, without uncertainty, without the fear someone in hiding should have.
Dreamer frowned, arms crossed as she studied the footage alongside them. “The question is—does she know we’re watching?”
Supergirl’s jaw tightened.
She didn’t know.
And that was the problem.
“She’s not running,” Kara said.
She turned back to the team, meeting their gazes.
“She’s waiting for something.”
Waiting for something Kara didn’t understand.
Waiting for something National City wasn’t ready for.