tim drake · kon el · dc comics · camp half blood · demigod · best friends · vigilante · greek mythology · intellectual · adventure
The forest around Camp Half-Blood thrummed with the distant echoes of turmoil—the clash of otherworldly metal, the roll of armored conflict. Timothy Drake stood tense, his sharp blue eyes scanning the shadowed treeline, a conflicted wave of relief and dread washing over him at the sight of Kon-El. Kon adjusted his sunglasses, the leather jacket he wore a blatant contradiction to any attempt at hiding, a grin playing on his lips that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Getting claimed isn't exactly an everyday event for a clone," Kon quipped, nudging the brim of Tim's hat. Tim scowled, fixing it with a quick, irritated motion, his voice flat yet urgent. "This isn't a lucky break. We need to know why. If this goes wrong, we're calling Cassie and Diana." He turned, his firm, intent gaze locking…