Superheroine Central -

she said. “Tempo’s power is rhythm-based. If you fight to his beat, you lose. So today, you dance to yours.”

asked Drift.

shouted Nova, whose gravitational powers were useless if she couldn't anchor herself. She hopped on one foot through the common area, her fiery red ponytail whipping behind her.

That was Silver Lining. She was the oldest, the wisest, and the only one without a flashy power. She just had a gut feeling for trouble—and an unnerving habit of being right. superheroine central

The skyscraper didn't have a name on it anymore. Not a visible one, anyway. To the citizens of Meridian City, it was simply known as Superheroine Central —a gleaming tower of glass and steel where the world’s most powerful women lived, trained, and waited for the call.

Nova grabbed her frozen boot, slammed it onto her foot, and winced.

Volt blushed.

sighed Lynx, whose claws were currently retracted as she painted her nails—a surprisingly delicate operation for hands that could shred titanium. “Unplug it. Breathe. You’re not a toaster.”

A beat of silence.

Not the red one—that was for earthquakes, kaiju, or alien invasions. This was the purple alarm. The tricky one. The one that meant: someone’s messing with reality again. she said

Silver Lining’s voice echoed through every speaker in the tower.

said Drift, a woman made of living mist, without looking up from her tablet. “You put it there after the sentient ice cream incident.”

Down in the garage, a new recruit named Volt was trying to recharge her suit from a wall socket. She’d plugged it in upside down. The suit began to hum a sad, electronic waltz. So today, you dance to yours

They launched—a blur of light, shadow, speed, and stubborn hope. Below, Meridian City sparkled, unaware of the tap-dancing prehistoric crisis about to unfold.