Victor Stone had resigned himself to the fact that he was completely alone in the world. He had comrades, but they were completely organic. He had people he'd consider calling 'friend', but they were organic as well. They had secret identities. They...
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It took months to rebuild everything that was lost in the battle; Detroit, Gotham, and New York faced the brunt of the attack. Their streets were shrouded in thick layers of smoke and debris. People died. Hundreds of them, but only one death haunted Harper's waking hours. The mother of a brown-eyed girl - crushed beneath the weight of a clone's armour.
Despite her constant denial, Harper kept herself updated with news about this child, who she later discovered was named 'Lara'. She had been thrown into the foster system but never seemed to find a perfect fit. She was moved around constantly, no one was ever quite able to understand her. She was a solitary child with a sharp mind, but a destructive streak. Anger consumed Lara in a way that aged her terribly and diminished any chance of finding an adoptive family. She fought with the other kids and disappeared for days on end, trying to run back towards a haven that could no longer harbour her.
As time dragged on, Harper could no longer tolerate the guilt that encased her. She applied to adopt a child. More specifically, a troubled girl that needed some stability. She didn't tell Victor...it wasn't his decision. At least, not in Harper's mind. Lara was her responsibility and she planned on spending the rest of her life trying to fix what she had broken. Victor didn't need to be a part of it if he wasn't comfortable, but that was a problem to face after she had actually been approved to adopt a child.
It was a terribly difficult process. Many felt that her position on the Justice League was not a safe or stable enough environment for a child. Nor did they think that Harper herself was an ideal candidate. She was single, lived in a space station (The Watchtower), and given the most recent attack by an army of her clones, she wasn't exactly in a positive with the American public, or the world for that matter. Though Harper was persistent, the tipping point came when she declared that she wanted to adopt Lara and would not settle for any other child. Between her violent outbursts, expensive medical bills, and constant running away, the adoption agency was completely out of options (and foster homes). Ultimately, it was decided that she would find it quite difficult to escape a space station and so running away would be removed from Lara's options. That, along with a thorough look into her files and mental health, was enough to get Harper's application approved.
Now here she was, waiting in a quiet room with her wheelchair tucked carefully beneath a large oaken desk. There was a woman sitting in front of her, sifting through the pile of signed documents and photo ID's that Harper had brought with her. She had maple-brown hair pinned in a neatly controlled bun. Her slim form was clad in a severely unadorned dress of forest green that verged upon black. "Well, everything seems to be in order."
There was a huff of disapproval from the far right corner, where Lara sat with her arms crossed and muddy eyes kicking up a storm. This was their first 'official' meeting, but neither of them had spoken a single word to the other. It was preferred that the adoptee and adopter have several encounters before making it official, but Harper avoided that idea entirely. She liked to tell herself that it was because she was too busy, but in reality she was simply afraid that the child would recognise her outside of that giant suit. She didn't, of course, but that still didn't prevent her immediate dislike of Harper.
