Echoes in the Dark

Thursday, October 23rd, 23:00.

New Jersey,

Gotham City,

East End.

The air in the ruined room was heavy with tension, but Esau barely seemed to register it. He simply stood there, loose and relaxed, as if the dozen or so bodies scattered across the room were nothing more than an afterthought.

The thug he had been gripping moments before sagged to the ground with a dull thud, unconscious before he even hit the floor. Esau barely spared him a glance as he rolled his shoulders, stretching the kinks from his muscles, his hands still aching from the beating he had just dished out.

Across from him, Tommy Monaghan the Hitman, stood with both pistols trained on him, brows furrowed behind his signature dark sunglasses, his lips twisted into an expression that matched his thoughts perfectly. 'What the actual fuck am I looking at?'

Esau exhaled sharply and lifted his hands in a show of nonchalance. "Relax," he said, a lazy smirk pulling at his lips. "You seem like a vigilante, so we shouldn't have any issues."

Hitman didn't lower his weapons. If anything, his grip tightened. "Yeah? And what makes you think that?"

Esau made a vague gesture around the destroyed room. "Well, let's see…these guys stole my bike, and I came to take it back. Unless theft prevention is suddenly illegal, I don't see what the problem is." Hitman tilted his head slightly, scanning the room, and for the first time, Esau saw the exact moment the absurdity of the situation dawned on him.

The place looked like a goddamn war zone.

Broken furniture, shattered glass, bullet-riddled walls, and a whole bunch of unconscious criminals moaning in pain or just outright knocked unconscious littered the floor like discarded garbage. One guy had been slammed into a wall so hard his body had left a dent, arms hanging limp at his sides as if someone had just glued him there. Another thug was face-down in a pile of what used to be a wooden table, his fingers twitching slightly.

Then there were the ones embedded in plaster.

Hitman let out a slow whistle, looking from one bloodied body to another before turning back to Esau. "You know," he said, his voice dripping with amused disbelief, "I've seen some real crazy shit in Gotham. Like, real fucked up, Arkham-tier nonsense. And yet, I'm standing here, looking at this, thinking—'Why the hell is some random kid out here folding fully-armed mobsters like a goddamn pretzel factory?'"

Esau shrugged, his smirk deepening. "Gotham's an interesting city."

Hitman scoffed, shaking his head before finally lowering his pistols, though he kept them loose in his hands, ready to snap them up if needed. "Alright, so let's say I believe you," he mused. "You do realize that doing all this—" he gestured broadly at the crime scene around them "—is gonna make you a walking target, right? The Dubelz aren't exactly the forgive and forget types."

Esau snorted. "Yeah? Well, they should've thought of that before they stole my damn bike."

Hitman stared at him for a long moment before exhaling through his nose. "Jesus…you're not right in the head, are you?"

Esau arched a brow. "You've been waging a one man war against the Dubelz Crime Family for weeks. But I'm the one who's not sane?"

Hitman opened his mouth to respond, then paused. He slowly nodded, conceding the point. "Fair."

Esau let out a low chuckle, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "So, if we're done playing twenty questions, I'm gonna get my bike."

Hitman stepped aside, making a show of giving him a path to leave. "By all means. Just don't let me stop you, I can see what happened to the last bunch of guys that tried that. Don't fancy learning what plaster taste likes if I'm being honest."

Esau smirked, then glanced back at the pile of groaning thugs. "Oh, and by the way, if you hang around for another ten, maybe fifteen minutes? You'll probably get some company."

Hitman's smirk dropped instantly. "…Company?"

Esau nodded. "Yeah, pretty sure one of these guys got a call out before I turned his skull into drywall." He pointed toward a thug slumped against a nearby wall, his phone still clutched in his limp fingers, a cracked screen glowing faintly.

Hitman groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Of course they did. Because that's exactly what I needed—more of these assholes."

Esau lifted two fingers in a lazy salute. "Enjoy yourself." With that, he strolled toward the exit, completely at ease, as if he had just wrapped up a casual grocery run instead of decimating a criminal gang's hideout.

Hitman watched him go, then slowly scanned the room again, exhaling a tired sigh. "Kids in Gotham are getting so much weirder," he muttered under his breath before turning his guns toward the still-conscious thug groaning at his feet. "…Alright, dumbass. Who did you call?"

-X-

Thursday, October 23rd, 23:15.

New Jersey,

Gotham City,

Gotham Heights.

The streets of Gotham were as silent as they ever got at this time of night—which, in Gotham's case, meant the occasional distant siren, the low hum of passing traffic, and the scattered echoes of footsteps from people who had no business being out this late.

Esau strode down the sidewalk, his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, his mind still half-occupied by the events of the night. His bike was back in his possession, no worse for wear aside from some fresh scuff marks, and he had just had a run-in with one of Gotham's more…peculiar vigilantes.

'Tommy Monaghan, huh?'

The guy had a mouth on him, Esau would give him that. There was something about him that reminded Esau of a cross between a washed-up detective and a mobster who had just decided one day that morality was cool now. But he wasn't bad and from what Esau had learned from Jason, Hitman was doing a pretty good job of making himself an annoyance.

Still, Esau had bigger things to think about—namely, Bronze Tiger.

The image of the man's unwavering brutality, his precise, ruthless strikes, the sheer weight of his presence in the ring—it all replayed in Esau's mind like a broken record. 'That's someone I won't be able to beat. Not yet.'

The thought should have pissed him off.

It should have frustrated him beyond belief.

Yet strangely, it excited him.

Esau had spent so long just focusing on his abilities—his raw power, his monstrous durability, his tail, his growing understanding of his Yokai nature. But seeing Bronze Tiger in action reminded him of something else.

Skill still mattered.

No matter how much raw strength he had, if someone like Bronze Tiger—or worse, someone like Batman—stepped into the ring with him, and he wasn't prepared, he'd lose. That realization made him want to get stronger. Not just physically, not just with his powers, but in every sense of the word.

By the time he reached Jason's place, he had already made up his mind.

It was time to take his training seriously again.

The house was warm when Esau stepped inside, the contrast to the cold Gotham air almost jarring. The scent of aged wood, faint whiskey, and burning logs from the fireplace filled the air.

There, in his usual spot, sat Jason Blood, still lounging in the large, comfortable armchair near the fire, a cup of tea resting on the small wooden table beside him. The fire cast flickering shadows over his features, making his aged yet sharp expression seem almost otherworldly.

Esau raised a brow as he shut the door behind him. "You been sitting there the entire time I was out?" He asked, stepping forward before lowering himself into the chair opposite Jason's.

Jason let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "No, my boy, I assure you, I am not that old. I do tend to move about."

Esau smirked slightly, leaning back into the chair, resting his arms on the armrests as he stretched his legs out. "Good to know. Thought you might've just fused with the chair at this point."

Jason hummed in amusement before lifting his cup of tea to his lips, taking a slow sip. "So, how was your night out in Gotham?"

Esau exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly as a smirk tugged at his lips. "Definitely missed it."

Jason set his cup down with a soft clink and regarded him with a knowing expression. "Glad to see it hasn't changed, then?"

Esau let out a dry chuckle. "Oh, it definitely hasn't changed. City's still the same mix of dirt, crime, and weirdly theatrical assholes that I remember." He paused, his smirk turning into something more contemplative. "And yet…it feels quieter somehow."

Jason's expression shifted subtly. He nodded, his fingers tracing the rim of his cup. "Yes…Gotham has been unnaturally quiet these last few months."

Esau's brow furrowed. "Why?"

Jason leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly. "It started about two months before you were rescued from Cadmus. At first, it was small—less movement from the major players, fewer street-level crimes that would normally lead to bigger things. But eventually, it became clear—something was keeping Gotham's usual chaos in check."

Esau narrowed his eyes. "And you don't know what?"

Jason shook his head. "No. But I have theories." He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the chair's armrests. "We know Batman has been largely absent, investigating the strange coordination of villains worldwide. The League has kept that information under wraps, but it's clear that something—or someone—is pulling strings on a global scale."

Esau nodded. "Yeah, and with Batgirl and Robin off with the Young Justice League, Gotham's been missing its usual protectors."

Jason met his gaze evenly. "Exactly. And yet, rather than taking advantage of their absence…Gotham's supervillains and crime lords have remained eerily silent."

That was weird the weirdest part of it all. Gotham's criminals were the worst kind of opportunists. The moment Batman went dark for too long, they were usually clawing over each other for dominance. The fact that they were all quiet? That meant something was above them, controlling them like puppets on strings.

"So you think this has to do with whatever Batman's investigating?" Esau asked.

Jason tapped a finger against his armrest. "It's possible. Whatever is going on, it is big. And if Gotham's criminals are as quiet as they seem, then that tells me one thing."

Esau leaned forward slightly. "And what's that?"

Jason's gaze darkened. "They know something we don't."

For a moment, silence stretched between them. The fire crackled softly in the background, filling the room with a warm yet unsettling glow. Esau exhaled through his nose. "So, aside from this Hitman guy I ran into earlier, who's actually protecting Gotham right now?"

Jason raised a brow. "You met Tommy Monaghan?"

Esau smirked. "Yeah. Walked in on me wrecking some Dubelz Crime Family goons and thought I was some lunatic tearing up the place for fun."

Jason chuckled. "Well, to be fair, you did have a reputation."

Esau rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. But seriously, is it just him?"

Jason shook his head. "Hitman is more focused on the Dubelz Crime Family than the city as a whole. But there are two new vigilantes who've stepped up in Batman's absence."

Esau raised a brow. "Oh?"

Jason's lips twitched slightly in something resembling amusement. "Hawk and Dove. They arrived recently."

Esau scoffed. "Great. More capes."

Jason's amusement grew. "They claim to be here because they were inspired by Black Hood."

Esau blinked once.

Then twice.

Then sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face. "Oh, for fuck's sake."

Jason laughed softly, taking another sip of his tea. "You did leave quite an impression, my boy."

Esau groaned. "I was barely a hero. That was an experiment gone wrong to say the least."

Jason smirked. "Perhaps. But inspiration doesn't always stem from righteousness—it stems from impact."

Esau leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. "Just what I needed. Fanboys."

Jason chuckled again. "You should meet them. Who knows? They might surprise you."

Esau scoffed. "Yeah. Because nothing ever goes wrong when I meet new people in Gotham."

Jason merely smiled knowingly, sipping his tea as the fire flickered between them.