Sandstorm {Discontinued}{Rewritten}

37. "Higher Morality Hero Crap"

It was sort of annoying, Dez thought, fighting a guy who could fly. For one thing, she couldn't hit him. He'd fly higher before she got the chance, and there wasn't enough sand in the world to help her reach him. It didn't help that he also had laser eyes (seriously an actual alien with laser eyes) that could cut through just about anything or that he could punch holes through walls or that with a huff and a puff he could bring a house down. He seemed to have all the same powers Kara did, only he was ten times more skilled, even though she had been on Earth way longer and, from what Kara had told the Legends, the Earth's sun was what gave them power here. (It didn't make much sense to Deserey, but then again she had never been much of a science geek.)

Non was holding his own against the six Legends that hadn't stayed at Cat.co, plus Supergirl herself. The guy was seriously OP, coupled with all that big bad energy. Deserey thought, if this world were a super hero movie, this would have been the climax. She could already hear the dramatic music they'd add into the background in editing.

Somewhere in the midst of battle Kara had bent a piece of metal with her heat vision. Deserey couldn't tell if she'd done it on purpose or accident, but either way Sara had decided to use it to her advantage. She charged forward, ducking under the laser eye beams and soaring vehicles hurling through the air, scooping the thing up from the ground; and with her new found weapon in hand, the White Canary tossed the metal in the air like a boomerang. It didn't do much to harm Non; in fact, it was crushed upon impact with his skin. But Deserey thought the effort was nice.

Captain Cold and Heatwave's guns were useless, too. The streams from the respective guns only reached so far before losing momentum, freezing and burning something else entirely. A tree, a mailbox. Anything but the intended target. Rip's gun didn't help much either. Same issue. Range not far enough. Useless against the over powered boss man. There were even a few instances in which the three of them had almost hit a group of marching, brainwashed civilians, prompting Supergirl to snap at them. Above all else, they needed to protect the people, after all. Flying douchebags be damned.

The only ones who could even reach him were Kendra, Carter, and Supergirl; but even with the three of them combining their abilities, Non was kicking their asses. Carter'd send a hefty swing his way, one strong enough to knock any man right out of the sky and send him tumbling to his demise. But maybe that was the problem. Any man. Non wasn't a man, not entirely anyway, not really. He wasn't human. All he had to do was flick his finger, and Kendra was crashing on to the rooftop of the nearest building.

Kara sucked in a huge gulp of air, letting it out in one, long breath -- the destruction that followed was cataclysmic. The wind tore through buildings, power lines, destroyed the road, taking Non and anything not bolted to the ground right along with it; the Legends had to grab hold of something sturdy to avoid the same fate. The three flying heroes landed next to the rest of the team, Kendra rubbing her arm from where she'd been hurt during her latest hit. Leonard was scowling, maybe it was that sixth sense he'd mentioned. Maybe he figured something awful was about to happen. "This isn't working."

Dez snorted. "No shit." She had specs of sand stuck in her hair, no doubt making her look like a homeless slob; the back of her hands were itchy. She wasn't sure if that was due to her nerves or the fact that her hands were extremely dry, which had her wondering when the last time she'd put lotion on her hands was. Such a strange thing to think about in the midst of battle...

Sara's hair was a bit tussled, knotted in some places, and her white battle uniform was dyed black and brown in some places from where she'd had a wrestling match with the concrete. The rest of them weren't much better. Varies scrapes and cuts all over their bodies -- under their eyes, on their cheeks, elbows, legs. Everywhere. Yet somehow Kara was still flawless. She hadn't so much as ripped her suit or broken a nail. There wasn't a bruise on her; if anything she looked like she might have just walked out of a beauty solon. The only sign she had had any sort of scuffle at all was the way she landed: knees crashing down, fist slamming into the concrete in front of her, making a little crack in the road. And the way she flipped her hair over her shoulders when she stood up right. Even that looked stunning.