Chapter 339: It’s All A Game (Part 4)

Back inside the Batcave, Batman sat rigid in his chair, fingers moving across the keyboard with an almost mechanical speed. 

The glow from the central monitor bathed the cavern in a cold blue light, casting shadows over the surrounding equipment. 

Streams of data flickered across the screen, shifting faster than most eyes could follow, until they finally stopped. A final list appeared: company names, addresses, and a scattering of images.

Batman leaned back slightly, his gaze dissecting the information on the screen. Alfred, standing a few feet behind him with his hands clasped behind his back, tilted his head toward the display.

"What is all this?" Alfred asked, his voice calm but curious, and his eyes scanning the highlighted names.

Before Batman could respond, Superman, who had been quietly observing from the edge of the command platform, stepped closer. His arms crossed over his chest as he studied the data. 

"It's a list of companies tied to Leviathan," Superman said. He then pointed toward the screen. "All of these are based in Metropolis and Gotham."

Batman's expression remained stoic as he stood. "And yet they're still operating," he said coldly.

Superman furrowed his brow. "Why wouldn't they? Most of these businesses work toward helping people. Housing projects, medical advancements, food distribution… Even the government hasn't shut them down."

Batman turned to face Superman, his dark silhouette blending into the shadowy surroundings. "Because shutting them down outright would draw attention," he replied. "What they're overlooking—or choosing to ignore—is that these businesses are solidifying Arias's hold in key sectors of both cities. If he gains complete control, it won't matter how benevolent these operations look. They'll make taking over the cities seamless."

Superman's arms dropped to his sides as he frowned, processing the words. "You're saying this is intentional? That it's all part of some larger plan?"

Batman nodded toward Alfred, ignoring Superman's question for the moment. "Alfred, contact the bank and the board."

Alfred arched an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on Batman for a moment before responding. "But, sir, don't you think the timing might be a bit—"

"It doesn't matter," Batman interrupted, his voice low but firm.

Superman took a step forward, his expression still clouded with doubt. "Bruce, if Arias really has this kind of influence, don't you think the government would have already intervened?"

Batman paused mid-step and turned back to Superman, his frown deepening. "The same government that's allowing a school full of superhumans loyal to Arias to operate freely?" His tone was biting, his words blunt. 

"Listen, Clark. Right now, everyone's focused on whether or not Arias has some kind of doomsday weapon. If he does, sure, he could take over nations outright. But if he doesn't?" Batman gestured toward the screen. "Then his only option is the slow, quiet takeover of institutions and businesses. That's already happening, right under everyone's nose."

Superman's lips pressed into a thin line as he considered this new perspective. The implications were troubling—far worse than he had initially thought. "If that's true…" Superman began, trailing off as he exchanged a concerned glance with Alfred.

"Not true," Batman interjected. "Possible."

Superman stiffened, his voice full of urgency. "Then we need to warn the government."

Batman's eyes flashed, and in an instant, he closed the distance between them, his gloved finger jabbing toward Superman's chest. "No, we don't," he said, his voice as sharp as steel. "You tell them, and Arias will know we're onto him. If this is what he's really doing, we can't risk that."

Superman's jaw tightened, but he held his ground. "Since when is it ever easy to get solid evidence against Arias Markovich?"

Batman's frown visibly deepened at Superman's response, his piercing gaze fixed on the Man of Steel. For a moment, it seemed he might argue, but he remained silent, his jaw tightening. 

Superman shifted his stance slightly, the glow of the Batcomputer reflecting off the emblem on his chest.

"Plus," Superman continued, his tone calm but resolute, "we promised we'd work together on this. Share whatever information we know, same with them. And so far, Pete has held up his end of the bargain. We have an obligation to do the same."

Batman took a step forward, his boots striking the floor with a sharp click that echoed through the cavern. "That's just the point… we don't know." 

Superman met his gaze but said nothing. 

———

A few hours later, at the White House, the first light of dawn still hadn't broken through the dark sky. 

President Pete Ross stepped out onto the balcony connected to his private quarters. The cool, crisp air brushed against him as he paused just inside the doorway. 

Behind him, two secret service agents hovered at a respectful distance, their black suits immaculate and their expressions unreadable.

"Can I get a minute alone, please?" Pete said, his tone polite but firm.

The taller of the two agents, a man in his late thirties with a clean-shaven face and short-cropped black hair, hesitated. "Mr. President, protocol doesn't allow us to—"

Pete turned his head, fixing the agent with a stern gaze that brooked no argument. The agent's shoulders stiffened as he lowered his head slightly. "Understood, Mr. President," he said quietly. "Please alert us if anything."

"Will do," Pete replied, his tone softening slightly. The agents stepped back into the shadows of the room, leaving Pete alone.

He let out a weary sigh and walked onto the balcony, the soles of his shoes scuffing against the stone floor. The view from the balcony stretched across the perfectly manicured White House lawns, the distant city lights of Washington D.C. twinkling like stars. 

Pete reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a slightly crumpled pack of cigarettes. He tapped one out, holding it between his fingers for a moment before fishing a lighter from his other pocket. 

The **snick** of the lighter echoed briefly as he brought the flame to the cigarette, inhaling deeply and holding the smoke in his lungs for a long moment. As he exhaled, the faint cloud of smoke curled upward into the cold air.

"What a fucking mess," he muttered, lowering his head as he shook it slowly. The cigarette hung loosely between his fingers as he rested his forearms on the balcony railing.

"Didn't you quit smoking, Pete?" a familiar voice called from above.

Pete's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the sky. Slowly, Superman descended from the dark above, his cape fluttering gently before settling around his broad shoulders. 

He hovered just inches away from the balcony's edge, arms crossed, his expression equal parts casual and concerned.

Pete's lips curled into a weak smile as he straightened up. "You always did have terrible timing," he said, holding out the cigarette toward Superman. "Want one?"

Superman raised a hand in polite refusal. "No thanks."

Pete raised an eyebrow as he took another drag from the cigarette, the ember glowing briefly. "You get thrown through buildings every other week. I doubt sharing a cigarette with a friend will harm your health."

"It's about setting a good example," Superman said with a faint shrug.

Pete let out a helpless chuckle, the sound rough and weary. "Always the boy scout," he said, exhaling another puff of smoke. He flicked the ash from the end of the cigarette and turned to face Superman fully. "I take it this isn't a social visit?"

Superman's features hardened. "No," he said, his tone steady. "It's about Arias Markovich."

Pete's smile faded, replaced by a grim expression as he stubbed out the cigarette on the railing before tossing it into a nearby ashtray. His shoulders tensed as he straightened his posture, nodding for Superman to continue.