SG sees the Light

Supergirl hadn’t expected trouble tonight—not beyond the usual purse snatchers and rooftop chases but the sigil burned into the brick wall should’ve been her first clue. The Light moved like ghosts through the alleyways of National City, a cult-like band of vigilante fanatics convinced that metahumans were a threat that needed to be “contained.” She hovered low to investigate, only for a crackling shockwave to slam into her from behind, then another from the side, coordinated strikes designed to hit her faster than she could recover. The neon glow of their homemade tech flickered around her as her vision blurred, her knees buckling. Before she could rise again, they swarmed—hooded figures moving with grim purpose, their strikes ruthless and synchronized, driving her down until the pavement caught her hard.