SDC 53

Batman's POV

I found him on the fifth day of searching—or rather, he let me find him. His burner came online, and I traced it to the top floor of an abandoned building with a clear view of the surrounding street.

It was also completely inaccessible without climbing gear or a grappling hook.

The top floor was littered with the discarded remains of wire traps and a few other unidentifiable bits. He'd been ready to fight if he'd been discovered before he was ready.

In the farthest room from the entrance, I found what looked like the remnants of a torture chamber—scrubbed clean. The place reeked of bleach. The walls and floors were unnaturally spotless.

A black body bag, a burner phone, and a card lay at the center of the barren room.

I was too late.

I read the note.

I left Gotham. I didn't kill Black Mask, even though I wanted to. Sorcerers did. He was running a child trafficking ring for them—you might want to look into that with substantial backup.

Also, I have Black Mask's backup information cache. Come after me in any way, and I'll burn Gotham to the ground with you in it.

I frowned. I didn't know what disturbed me more: the threat, the claims of sorcery, or the unmistakable signs of torture.

Zatara could easily confirm the sorcery angle, but the rest was far more complicated.

I'd thought he was like me. Like Robin. Someone who could hold back the darkness.

I'd seen that during the bus incident. During the fire.

But this?

Torture. Starvation.

It was cold. Calculated. Ruthless.

Stomach-turning—especially in someone so young.

Julius made his choice.

He'd made his intentions very clear since our first meeting. I didn't just believe him.

I'd hoped he'd be better.

But he was heading down a path I wasn't sure I could bring him back from—not unless he truly wanted it.

And even then, the evidence was piling up.

If he ended up in prison—and survived—it would mold him into something truly terrifying.

And I didn't want that.

The threat in the note didn't give me many options.

Julius was smart. He probably set up some kind of automatic failsafe that would trigger if he didn't reset it often.

The only person who could reach him now… was her.

Three months later

Music blared as I ran on my treadmill, speed maxed out at twenty miles per hour.

I breathed.

In and out. In and out.

I tried to focus on my heartbeat. The music. The burn. Anything to stop the rising chaos in my head.

I kept the tempo for over an hour before switching over to the free weights, weighted vests, and rings.

I moved through exercises, maneuvers, and aerials that would've been impossible for me a month ago.

I checked my status before heading out of the basement gym for a shower and a change of clothes.

I had school today.

Mom was in the kitchen frying bacon and eggs when I came down, motorcycle helmet and jacket in hand.

It was mostly for my benefit. She'd noticed the accelerated development, but hadn't pried, simply nodding when I told her one evening while I made myself a literal mountain of stake.

Sasha slouched at the table, doom-scrolling through her phone with the same apathetic look she'd had for months now.

Rehab hadn't helped as much as I hoped. I wished I could wave away the pain with Reversed Cursed Technique for her and myself.

Candice whipped around when she saw me. She was dressed in one of her new office suits. She'd snagged a job at a local dealership—didn't take much more than some flirting and bullshitting.

Her boss was a man and practically putty in her hands.

Today was her first day.

"Looking good, Candice," I said, moving to the dishwasher and setting the table.

"Thanks!" She beamed. "Think I'm gonna get a sale on my first day?"

I shrugged. "Stranger things have happened."

Sasha scoffed.

I carried the plates of eggs and bacon to the massive table.

We were renting a large home, nearly 5K a month for a small McMansion. Everything was tooth-achingly opulent. A massive flat screen, a guest house, pool, more rooms than we knew what to do with, front and back lawns the size of parks… the works.

I chose renting over buying for obvious reasons. Buying makes you easier to find.

Candice heaped a large plate for me, and I wolfed it down at a quarter of the speed I usually ate when alone.

The one thing no one tells you about superpowers is how much readjusting and thinking you have to do when performing simple, everyday things.

We talked about everything—except what really happened in Gotham.

For the first time, Mom didn't push. The news story covering the death of Black Mask had been horrifying enough.

Sionis, or as he was known in the criminal underworld, Black Mask, was found in an abandoned apartment in the Narrows by the vigilante Batman.

Autopsy reports claimed unknown causes of death, but the body was covered in scars and wounds consistent with prolonged torture.

Although the circumstances surrounding his death were far from ideal, both police and locals celebrated the news.

Sionis had been one of the most dangerous crime bosses in Gotham's history—responsible for thousands of deaths.

I'd grown a lot since that day in the dark room--literally. I was now five-foot-eleven and 170 pounds. I'd also dyed my hair black to avoid attention and tried staying under the radar for the most part. The motorcycle and the body didn't help, but it was a guilty pleasure.

Finishing my plate, I hopped to my feet, snatched up my helmet, and tugged on my jacket.

"Well, I'm off to school. Don't wait up."

"Anything I should worry about?" Candice asked, looking up from her own plate.

I'd been coming home late the last few nights.

"Relax, Candice," I said, glancing over my shoulder. "I'm not stealing again. Just… looking out for a few people."

Candice's expression turned complicated, like she was weighing her words. She didn't use to do that.

"Be careful," she finally said.

Sasha looked up from her phone.

"What she really means is, don't kill anybody. We just got here. Don't make us move again to clean up your mess."

I didn't rise to the bait.

She'd been in a terrible mood ever since she finished rehab, mostly because Candice and I had been clear about our expectations.

We were happy to house her, but wouldn't hesitate to put her out if she didn't get her shit together.

The grief probably didn't help either.

"Have a great day too, Sasha."

I flashed her a bright smile before hopping on my bike and racing out of the garage.