House of Valen Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Enter the Penguin

Bruce Wayne drove home in silence, the growl of the Batmobile lingering in his ears even after he had traded it for the subdued hum of a civilian car. His mind replayed the encounter in the alley.

That speed and power… No ordinary meta-human had ever closed the distance on him quite like that. He couldn’t even react to what was happening before it had already happened, and then there was the name he had mentioned.

Bruce Wayne. How in the world did he know?

The voice lingered in his head, taunting, always carrying that amused edge. Whoever that man was, he knew something he shouldn’t have. Knowledge Bruce had spent the better part of his life guarding as his most precious secret.

By the time he pulled into the garage beneath Wayne Manor, he had already cataloged every possible lead. Could he be a meta, alien, magician, or something else entirely? Whatever his identity might be, he couldn’t be ignored.

He loosened his tie as he walked through the quiet halls of the manor. Alfred had retired to bed hours ago. The house was dark, and the city outside was a smudge of lights through the windows. He settled into the study, flicked on the television, and poured himself a glass of scotch.

The broadcast cut to Superman with his cape fluttering, smile in place as he cradled two civilians in his arms outside the ruins of a collapsed bridge. He handed them off gently, speaking words of reassurance, the symbol of hope he always portrayed to the people.

Then… the camera jolted as another figure entered the frame.

Bruce froze his glass halfway to his lips.

To think he would show up here and with no mask or disguise. He just walked into the shot like he owned the world.

“Wait… who is…?” The reporter’s microphone caught his own muffled question before it was drowned out.

The name Nox came to mind, something he had found out after their encounter. He watched as Nox plucked the man’s glasses right off his face. Sliding them on, he squared his shoulders, dropped his chin, and deepened his voice in a mocking impression.

“Check this out,” he announced, grinning at the cameras. “I now have a secret identity.”

As Nox’s gaze scanned the civilians, he watched with an amused smile as they laughed nervously. The reporter blinked, unsure if the moment was a prank or a stunt.

Then, with exaggerated flair, the man removed the glasses and spread his arms wide.

“And now… I don’t.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes, studying the scowl etched on Superman’s face and the tight clench of his jaw. This was not amusement. It was irritation, something rooted deep and personal.

The stranger leaned in toward Superman, his grin wide and mocking. “Come on, big guy, smile for the cameras. Show them the real you, or should I say…” He dragged the word out, lips curling. “Cla…”

Superman moved in an instant, seizing him by the collar and dragging him out of frame. The audio cut in with static as the crowd gasped. For a moment the feed scrambled, and then the anchor hastily shifted focus back to the disaster cleanup.

Bruce, the ever-present detective, had seen enough.

He leaned back in his chair; scotch untouched, eyes narrowed at the flickering screen. The puzzle pieces slid into place with an unnerving precision.

Recognition flickered in his eyes, and it wasn’t just in passing. This was personal. Could the stranger also be Kryptonian? The threat was serious enough to break his composure, revealing the disdain he felt.

Most of the time when some clown would interrupt Superman for some reason; he would gently deflect it away. But this response told Bruce everything he needed to know.

This man was dangerous.

Bruce set the glass down on his desk, his mind already moving faster than the broadcast. Whoever this individual was, he wasn’t just powerful but reckless at the same time. It was obvious he was connected to Superman; very few others were.

That meant leverage, but at the same time it wasn’t anything that could work to his advantage.

“It’s someone Superman can’t ignore, so the Justice League in the future must keep tabs on this man.” Bruce murmured to himself.

He switched off the television, the room sinking back into the familiar darkness. From the window, a reflection stared back at him. It was the mask of Bruce Wayne, billionaire and philanthropist.

But behind those eyes was Batman, and he refused to let a puzzle go unsolved.

Rising from the chair, shadows pooled in his imagination even without the suit. The man’s words replayed in his mind, the mocking grin, the ease with which he had spoken the name Bruce Wayne.

This wasn’t just another crazy. It was someone who knew too much, moved too fast, and carried himself like an untouchable man.

If he was bold enough to toy with Superman in front of the world?

Then Gotham wasn’t the only city at risk.

The moment the cameras lost sight of them, Superman shoved Nox against the side of a steel support beam. Dust rattled loose, and the steel itself groaned under the sudden pressure.

Clark’s eyes burned, his jaw clenched tight. “Do you ever think about what you’re doing, Nox? About who pays the price for your choices?”

Nox tilted his head, unbothered, a faint smile playing on his lips as if it were all just a game. “Consequences, Clark? I just gave your interview its most entertaining moment. You should be thanking me.”

Superman leaned closer, his voice dropping into that low, measured tone he always used when he was holding back frustration. “This isn’t a joke. Do you realize what would have happened if people started connecting the dots because of your little stunt? If they found out who I really was?”

Nox shrugged. “So what, you’re Superman; you can handle it.”

Clark’s fist tightened against the beam beside his head, the metal warping slightly. “Not just me. Think about my family. My mother and friends would become a target overnight. Is that what you want? To put innocent people in danger because you can’t stop playing games?”

That made Nox pause. Just for a second, his smirk faltered, and his mind flashed to the gentle warmth of his own mother’s embrace. Her smile, quiet scolding’s, and the way she had always been there waiting for him after a fight.

His voice dropped to a quieter tone, “No… of course not.”

Nox exhaled hard through his nose, the grin slipping back into place, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of thought. “Fine, fine… You’re right. She doesn’t deserve that. I mean, Martha is just a nice old lady trying to keep her insane son from breaking the world.”

Superman blinked, brows furrowing. “Old? Nox, she’s not even fifty.”

That earned a genuine laugh from Nox. He bent slightly at the waist, clutching his side as if the very idea amused him beyond measure. “Ha! Leave it to you to get hung up on that part. You’re truly unbelievable.”

Clark folded his arms, unimpressed. “You’re always unbearable to deal with.”

“And you’re predictable,” Nox shot back, jabbing a finger at him. “It’s always the same speech about responsibility, consequences, and the betterment of mankind. Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

“No,” Superman said simply.

“Of course not,” Nox muttered, rolling his eyes. “You’re the symbol of hope, a golden boy. Honestly, Clark, sometimes I think you just like lecturing me because it makes you feel tall.”

“I don’t need to feel anything like that,” he countered with a flat tone.

“Are you sure? Because from here…” Nox made a show of measuring their height difference with his hand. “I’d say we’re about even.”

That earned him a long sigh.

But then, the world itself seemed to interrupt their banter. A scream pierced the air with a sharp and desperate voice. Both their heads snapped in the same direction, instincts honed to a razor’s edge. Somewhere blocks away, another building groaned under strain, flames exploding out the windows.

Nox watched on as Clark’s face hardened instantly. His whole posture shifted, the calm farm boy gone, the savior emerging in his place.

He noticed, and for a heartbeat he simply watched the transformation with fascination. Then he clapped Superman on the shoulder with a grin. “Go get ’em, slugger.”

The sarcasm dripped, mocking as ever, yet beneath it lay something else, a strange note of acknowledgment. Of course the one he chose as his rival had to be at least this strong.

Superman stared at him for a second, as if debating whether to respond, and then settled for a glare. Without another word, he launched skyward in a blur of red and blue, the shockwave of his departure rattling the ground under their feet.

Nox stood alone, watching the image fade into the distance. He chuckled, shaking his head. “Predictable, yes… but damn if he isn’t persistent on his views.”

He lingered for only a moment longer before tilting his chin skyward, eyes glittering with restless energy. “Guess it’s my turn to find some fun.”

With a grin splitting his bloodied face, he blasted off in the opposite direction, streaking across Gotham’s skyline in search of something more interesting.

The city sprawled below like a nest of shadows, every rooftop whispering with secrets and alley crawling with schemes. Superman was probably halfway through pulling those civilians to safety by now, basking in cheers, playing the symbol. Nox, though? He wanted something that could truly get his blood flowing.

Whether it was a good fight or show, he wanted it all.

His ears caught the faint metallic rattle of dozens of weapons loading at once. He slowed, turning toward the sound and following it until he spotted them.

A cluster of black cars lined up in the abandoned docks, their headlights slicing through the mist. Around them, armed men shifted uneasily, rifles clutched tight, their faces hard but their eyes showing nervousness.

They weren’t police or soldiers; they were Gotham thugs. All of them were well armed, proving this wasn’t anything simple.

At their center stood a short, stout man in a tailored overcoat, a cigar clenched between his fingers. His crooked nose and steel-tipped umbrella cane were unmistakable. Nox needed no introductions. He knew exactly who this man was.

“The Penguin,” he muttered, eyes glinting with excitement. “Now this… looks like my kind of fun.”

He tucked his arms in and began his descent.