DC: All for One Chapter 11 — One Month: Part 1

'It's funny how much can change in a month.'

Ethan stood on the grated metal platform that overlooked the main floor of the abandoned Kane & Sons warehouse. His body was covered in black, from his trousers to his thick long sleeve shirt to his tactical vest. Across his face lay a featureless mask with only two eyeholes that showed two crystal blue eyes. The moonlight which struck Ethan's back was the only thing making him visible in the otherwise dark warehouse. 

As he stood there his gaze never left a certain spot. Below, in the open space between stacked crates and rusted conveyor belts, Batman waited without a word.

'The problem with assuming you're the smartest person in the room... you always end up missing when someone else walks in.'

Ethan dropped from the platform in a controlled fall, landing in a crouch that barely made a sound. He exploded forward activating both Hyperadrenal and expanded vision, closing the gap in three strides, leading with a spinning heel kick aimed at Batman's temple. The Dark Knight didn't dodge; he stepped inside the arc, caught Ethan's ankle with one hand, and drove an armored elbow into the back of the trapped knee. Cartilage popped. Ethan hissed but twisted mid-air, using the momentum to wrench free and land on his good leg.

'It's funny.'

Batman pressed the advantage without mercy. A batarang whipped from his gauntlet and buried itself in the meat of Ethan's thigh before he could pivot. The minor explosive charge inside detonated with a muted crack, shredding muscle and sending Ethan staggering. Before he could rip it free, Batman was on him with three short, vicious jabs to the solar plexus that drove the air from his lungs, followed by a rising uppercut that snapped Ethan's head back and cracked the mask across the cheekbone.

'When I finally decided what to do with my life, it ends up coming to a close.'

Ethan tasted blood and retaliated with a flurry of strikes drawn from every style he had learned: Muay Thai, Krav Maga, boxing. Hyperadrenal let him move faster than any normal human, but Batman was keeping up still. He parried, redirected, countered and just easily dismantled any kind of fight he was able to put up. 

A smoke pellet burst at Ethan's feet. He leaped backward through the gray cloud, landing on a stack of pallets. From his belt he drew a collapsible baton and flicked it open. Batman emerged from the smoke like a living shadow his cape flaring outwards. He fired his grapple line into the overhead rafters, swung in a wide arc, and drop-kicked Ethan square in the chest. The impact hurled him through the air and over the safety rail of the upper platform.

'Perhaps things were not meant to be.'

Ethan twisted mid-fall, trying to control the descent. He almost succeeded. Batman's second grapple line snaked out, wrapped around his ankle, and yanked hard. The sudden reversal slammed Ethan face-first into a steel support beam. Stars exploded across his vision. Blood poured from his nose and split lip.

Batman reeled him in like a hooked fish, then released the line at the perfect moment to send Ethan crashing through a stack of wooden crates on the lower level. Splinters erupted around him. Before Ethan could roll clear, Batman dropped from above, driving both knees into Ethan's sternum. Ribs cracked audibly. Air fled Ethan's lungs in a soundless scream.

He tried to rise. Batman's boot pinned his wrist to the ground. A second boot came down on the opposite elbow, grinding until something tore. Batman reached to his utility belt, produced a small aerosol canister, and sprayed a fast-acting paralytic mist directly into Ethan's face through the mask's breathing vents. Nerves locked. Limbs went heavy. Ethan could still think, still feel every point of agony, but his body refused to answer.

The Dark Knight hauled him up by the front of the jacket and dragged him toward the loading dock where an old sedan sat under a tarp, abandoned years ago. Without ceremony, Batman hurled Ethan over the railing of the elevated platform. Ethan fell thirty feet and struck the sedan roof dead-center. Metal buckled inward with a thunderous crash, the windshield spider-webbing around the impact crater shaped exactly like his body. Glass rained. The car alarm gave one weak, dying honk before falling silent.

He lay there in the concave ruin of steel and safety glass, blood pooling beneath his head, Hyperadrenal finally sputtering out under the weight of trauma and paralytic.

'It had only been a month.'

One month since the hospital. Three weeks since he had moved into the basement of Commissioner Gordon's house. Two weeks since he had truly decided that Gotham needed someone willing to do what Batman would not. And now, staring up through shattered glass at the broken skylight high above, Ethan watched the silhouette of the Bat descend slowly on a grapple line.

Even in such a situation he couldn't help but form a small smile on his face. Though it wasn't at the situation itself, but at something that had come to mind in his last moments of his freedom. 

'I am Ozymandius King of Kings.'

The Dark Knight approached the sedan, every step cracking and shattering glass into dust.

'Look on my works ye mighty and despair.'

The sound of metal groaning echoed through the night air was the only thing Ethan heard before he saw the Dark Knight standing above him and looking down. No sympathy. No hatred. Just the cold unblinking stare he was all too used to seeing in the mirror.

'Nothing beside remains. Round the decay, of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare, the lone and level sands stretch far away.'

_____________________________________

(Three Weeks Ago)

Ethan lay on his back in the narrow bed that occupied the basement room of the Gordon house, sheets tangled around his waist while Barbara straddled him with her knees planted on either side of his hips. She wore short pajama shorts in pale pink cotton that rode high on her thighs and a thin white vest that clung to her body from the heat building between them. Her red hair fell loosely around her shoulders in waves that brushed his chest whenever she leaned down.

Barbara pressed her lips against his with desperation that had grown over the past minutes, her mouth opening to deepen the kiss while her tongue slid along his. Small moans escaped her throat, soft sounds that vibrated against his lips as she rocked her hips forward and backwards. The friction of her shorts against his skin sent warmth spreading through her, and she ground down harder, chasing the sensation that made her breath hitch. Her hands roamed over his bare chest, fingers tracing the faint lines where scars had healed from the incident a few weeks ago, and she arched her back slightly so that her vest pulled tight across her breasts.

Ethan returned the kiss matching her ferocity, his hands resting on her thighs where the fabric of her shorts ended and smooth skin began. He moved with her when she shifted, yet his responses only mirrored her, in almost a clinical manner. While they kissed he noted the way her pulse raced under his palms and the small tremors that ran through her whenever she pressed closer. Barbara, in contrast, lost herself in the moment completely; her moans grew a fraction louder, breathy sounds that she muffled against his neck when she trailed kisses there. She rolled her hips again, grinding with more insistence, her fingers dug into his shoulders as heat coiled in her stomach.

The television in the corner played quietly, volume turned up just enough to mask the sounds they made. A morning talk show droned in the background, the hosts laughing at segments that neither of them noticed.

Barbara broke the kiss for a second to catch her breath, forehead resting against his while she whispered his name in a husky voice. She shifted forward again, thighs tightening around him, and another soft moan slipped out as she found the angle that made her shiver.

"Breakfast is ready, you two!" Barbara's mother called from the top of the basement stairs.

Barbara froze instantly, eyes widening in panic. She scrambled off Ethan in one wuick motion, nearly tumbling from the bed as her feet hit the floor. Her cheeks flushed deep red while she smoothed her vest down and tugged at the hem of her shorts. "Oh my God," she whispered, glancing toward the door with genuine alarm. Her parents still knew nothing about the relationship that had developed between them, and the thought of getting caught sent her heart racing for an entirely different reason.

"We'll be there in a minute, Mom!" she called back, voice pitched higher than usual as she tried to sound casual.

Ethan sat up slowly, sheets pooling around his waist while he watched her. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, shirtless torso on full display in the soft morning light that filtered through the small basement window. The muscles across his back and shoulders shifted as he walked to the dresser where his school uniform waited folded on top.

Barbara leaned against the wall for a moment to steady herself, then bit her lower lip while her gaze followed the lines of his body. The way he moved, fluid and controlled even in simple actions, held her attention completely.

Ethan pulled on his white dress shirt and buttoned it. "After school today, are we going to continue work on the formula in the lab?" He asked. 

Barbara blinked, snapping out of her daze as his question registered. She nodded quickly. "Yeah, of course... wait no actually I can't... I have that after-school activity I've been putting off for weeks. The computer club is doing a coding workshop, and I really need to show up this time or they'll drop me from the roster."

Ethan stepped into his trousers and fastened them, "Why have you been putting it off?" He asked.

She raised her eyebrows at him, expression shifting to playful exasperation. "You silly," she said with hervoice softening as she crossed the room to stand closer. "I've been spending almost every free minute here with you, making sure you recovered properly after the hospital released you. Someone had to keep an eye on you."

Ethan tucked his shirt in and reached for his tie. "I was stable long before discharge, and Ive been fine for days."

Barbara huffed, crossing her arms under her chest while she tried to find the right words. "That isn't the point, Ethan. It's not just about being medically stable. You went through something awful, and I wanted to be here for you." She paused. But simply looked at her with that calm, unreadable gaze that both frustrated and drew her in.

She sighed and smiled again. "Anyway, you can take the spare keys to the lab and get some work started without me. I'll join you as soon as the workshop ends."

Ethan nodded in agreement while he knotted his tie. "That's fine."

Barbara stepped close, rose on her toes, and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. "I need to get ready now or Mom will come looking down here." She smiled, lingered for a second, then turned and hurried up the stairs.

Ethan watched her go, the door clicking shut behind her, then finished dressing in silence. He slung his school bag over one shoulder and glanced at the television that still played. The morning show had ended, replaced by a local news broadcast. A reporter stood in front of yellow police tape at a harbor warehouse.

"Gang violence continues to escalate across Gotham, with five separate shootings reported overnight in the harbor district alone. Authorities link the surge to a power vacuum left after the arrest of Iron Row leader Kieran Deloe. Rival factions, including the Falcone family and triads are moving aggressively into former Iron Row territory. The increased activity has prompted citywide curfews for minors, including students of Gotham Academy and other schools."

Ethan turned off the television with the remote. The arrest of Kieran had removed one major threat to himself, yet it had destabilized the entire criminal world. Shootings, turf wars, and random acts of retaliation now spilled into neighborhoods that had once maintained uneasy truces. The worst part however was the curfew put in place for children; to try and prevent them from getting caught in the crossfire they were told to get home before 7pm. The curfew annoyed him with its restrictions on movement, but at least Iron Row's command structure lay in ruins.

He had spent the week since moving into the Gordon house recovering fully, with no lingering effects from injuries sustained in the car chase. The time had passed quietly; he attended classes, completed assignments, and spent evenings with Barbara. Yet he knew the calm would not last. Loose ends remained—Renee Montoya, police investigation, Harvey Bullock and Batman undoubtedly reviewing why Kieren had tried to kill him. He had a lot that he needed to do, but first he would focus on Renee and getting rid of her. 

She had officially been filed as a missing person and they were retracing her last steps down to the last minute details. He needed to deal with her. Whether that be removing himself from her memories... or a more permanent solution remained to be seen. 

Ethan turned off the television and headed upstairs.

The kitchen smelled of bacon and fresh coffee. Commissioner Gordon sat at the table in his robe, reading the newspaper while Mrs. Gordon placed plates of eggs and toast in front of empty chairs. Barbara already sat in her usual spot, now dressed in her academy uniform, hair tied back neatly.

"Morning, Ethan," Mrs. Gordon said with a warm smile as he entered. "Sleep well?"

"Well enough, thank you," he replied, taking the seat beside Barbara.

Commissioner Gordon folded the paper and looked over his glasses. "More trouble down at the docks last night. You two be careful coming home from school today. Stick to main roads and come straight back."

Barbara rolled her eyes slightly. "Dad, we know."

Mrs. Gordon set a plate in front of Ethan. "Just promise you'll both be sensible. The city isn't safe right now."

They both nodded in agreement while they ate. Conversation stayed light; school projects, upcoming tests, the weather. Commissioner Gordon reminded Barbara about church that Sunday as she hadn't attended the last two times. Ethan listened and contributed when expected, maintaining the role of polite houseguest. After breakfast they gathered their bags and headed to the driveway where Barbara's car waited. She started the engine and backed out while her parents waved from the porch.

As soon as they turned onto the main road, Barbara launched into a serious of complaints. "They are so overprotective. I get that things are rough right now, but I can take care of myself. I've been doing it for years."

Ethan gazed out the window at passing houses. "They worry because the violence has increased, a gang war is likely on the horizon."

"That's not the point," she said, gripping the wheel tighter. "Dad treats me like I'm still twelve. And Mom backs him up every time. I wish they'd trust me more." The drive to Gotham Academy took twenty minutes through morning traffic. Barbara continued venting about curfews and parental rules until they pulled into the student parking lot. She found a space near the front and turned off the engine.

She looked at him with a small smile. "Anyway, sorry for the rant. See you after the workshop?"

Ethan nodded. 

They walked into the building together, parting ways at the hallway junction with a discreet touch of hands. The school day passed in routine classes and conversations that Ethan navigated with practiced ease. When the final bell rang, students streamed toward exits while Barbara headed to the computer lab for her workshop.

Ethan took the keys she had given him and walked alone to the old science annex where the lab waited. He unlocked the door, stepped inside, and closed it behind him. Once inside he removed the protective sheets from the workbenches one by one, and he powered on the main computer while he reviewed digital notes stored in an encrypted folder.

He began work on the super-soldier serum that he had conceptualized weeks earlier, drawing from principles of cellular regeneration, myostatin inhibition, and targeted gene expression. Ethan synthesized a new batch of peptide chains using the automated synthesizer, adjusting parameters on the touchscreen to incorporate a novel CRISPR-cas9 vector that he had designed to suppress myostatin genes while upregulating follistatin production. He calculated binding affinities in his head, predicting how the vector would integrate without triggering immune cascades that plagued earlier attempts.

While the synthesizer ran its cycle, Ethan prepared a base solution in a flask on the hot plate, combining branched-chain amino acids with a custom telomerase activator that he derived from modified astragalus extracts. He titrated the pH precisely to 7.4 using a digital probe, then added nanoparticle carriers that would protect the payload during cellular uptake. His mind raced through metabolic pathways, envisioning how the compound would amplify mitochondrial density in muscle fibers and enhance neural synaptic efficiency without the cellular exhaustion seen in amphetamine-based enhancers.

He ran simulations on the computer, inputting molecular models that he constructed from memory of protein structures. The software predicted a 40% increase in fast-twitch fiber recruitment and a 25% boost in oxygen utilization efficiency. Ethan adjusted the formula iteratively, incorporating a feedback loop inhibitor to prevent hypertrophic cardiomyopathy risks that arose in prior variants. Within two hours he isolated a stable emulsion that glowed faintly under UV light from the fluorescent tags he embedded for tracking.

Progress accumulated rapidly under his focus. He purified the serum through column chromatography, collecting fractions in vials that he labeled with precise concentrations. Ethan cross-referenced results against theoretical maxima for human physiology, refining the neural enhancer component to include a BDNF mimic that would sharpen cognitive processing without psychotic side effects. By the second hour he had produced three viable candidates, each tailored to different delivery methods: injectable, transdermal, and oral.

His phone vibrated on the bench. He glanced at the screen and saw a message from Barbara.

Barbara: Sorry I won't be able to make it to the lab today :( but I'll see you at home.

Ethan: No problem I'll see you there.

He set the phone aside and checked the wall clock, which showed the time remained before the 7 p.m. curfew imposed on minors. That window allowed him several hours of freedom before he needed to return to the Gordon house.

Ethan reached into his school bag and retrieved a handheld device that he and Barbara had built together months earlier. He had since modified the circuitry extensively, adding a broader spectrum analyzer and a directional antenna that increased sensitivity to meta-human energy signatures. The screen lit up with a calibration grid as he powered it on. It represented their first collaborative project, originally designed to detect anomalous electromagnetic fluctuations associated with meta abilities.

He pocketed the device while he secured the lab, placing the serum samples in refrigerated storage and backing up data to an offline drive. With the meta detector in hand, Ethan left the annex and stepped into the cooling evening air. He needed to accumulate more abilities to expand his own repertoire, and that process required locating meta-humans.

...

Ethan left the school grounds through a side gate that led to a quieter street, and he walked eastward toward the East End where the buildings grew older and the sidewalks showed more cracks from years of neglect. He kept the meta-human detector in his pocket with the screen set to silent mode, and scanned the area periodically while he moved at a casual pace that avoided drawing attention from passersby. The evening light faded gradually as clouds gathered overhead, and the streets filled with people heading home before the curfew hour approached.

He turned onto a narrower avenue lined with small shops that had metal grates pulled halfway down for the night, he sensed movement behind him a fraction too late. A hand reached toward his shoulder from the shadows between two buildings. Ethan reacted instantly, grabbing the wrist and twisting to face the person while he prepared to counter.

He looked into the face of Artemis, who stood there with her blonde hair tied back and wide eyes. Surprise registered on his features for a brief moment before she tugged him wuickly into the alleyway beside them, pulling him out of sight from the main street. Artemis released his arm once they stood deeper in the alley where dumpsters lined one wall and graffiti covered the bricks. She turned to him with anger flashing in her expression. "Where have you been? You disappeared after that night, and I saw the news about the shooting and the chase. I thought you might be dead, Ethan. You could have sent one message, anything, to let me know you were alive," she said with both equal amounts of pain and anger. 

Before he could respond, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug, her head pressing against his chest while her hands gripped the back of his jacket.

Ethan stood there for a second, unsure of the appropriate response, then after a moment he patted her back lightly with one hand while he kept the other at his side. "I am fine, Artemis. I refrained from contacting you in case Iron Row continued to watch me or where I lived. I did not want to put you or your mother at further risk."

Artemis stepped back fully, crossing her arms while she processed his words. Understanding softened her features a little, yet dissatisfaction remained in her posture. "I get that, but Im still not happy about it. You left me worrying for weeks."

Ethan nodded in acknowledgment, "I'm sorry..." he said before changing the subject. "How is your mother? How are things at back at the apartment?"

"My Moms okay... she was a little spooked by the whole thing but she's fine... but things haven't been going well in the east end..." Artemis leaned against the alley wall, her shoulders slumping slightly as she replied. "...It's bad. Iron Row is gearing up for what looks like a full gang war. They're collecting on every old debt, raising prices on drugs, and demanding higher protection fees from everyone in the harbour and the surrounding districts. They've pushed harder into the East End, and that's brought them into direct conflict with the Falcones who already control parts of it."

Ethan frowned while he listened, processing the information against what he had observed from news reports and various police reports he'd taken a look at on the Gordon's laptop. Without Kieran Deloe to lead them, he had assumed Iron Row would fracture and get absorbed by rivals quickly, yet the remaining members seemed determined to fight for survival in ways that dragged the entire city into chaos.

"Have they come back to our apartment block?" He asked. 

Artemis nodded her expression shifting to hesitation as she looked down at the ground for a moment.

Ethan noticed the pause immediately, and he prompted her gently. "What is it? Is there something else?" 

She met his eyes again before she sighed. "They went back to your apartment. They cleaned it out completely. Everything that had any value... furniture, electronics, even clothes they took it all," she told him tentatively. 

Something shifted inside Ethan when those words reached him. It was strange... he wasn't attached to anything significant in the apartment, but as soon as he heard those words it was as if a pressure that had built gradually over encounters with Iron Row, from the first attack in the alleyway to the chase that ended with Kieran's arrest, reached a breaking point with that small detail. The gang had not only tried to kill him multiple times; they had stripped the last remnants of his former life for profit.

Iron Row.

Scum.

Degenerates.

Parasites.

They preyed on the weak, extracted everything from people who had nothing left, and pushed substances that destroyed families like his own. They created addicts out of parents who then neglected children, turning entire neighborhoods into places where survival demanded compromise after compromise.

"Ethan, are you okay?" Artemis asked with concern in her voice as she reached out to touch his arm.

He blinked once and refocused on her. "I'm fine, Artemis.... I'm going to handle Iron Row, so don't worry."

Her eyes widened immediately, and she grabbed his sleeve tighter while she shook her head. "No, Ethan, you can't. That's insane. They're a whole gang, you barely survived the last time they came after you with one hit squad."

Ethan met her gaze, in his eyes was nothing but cold apathy. "The gangs are parasites on this city. They take and ruin and give nothing back that helps anyone. Things will never change on their own. They need to be removed."

Artemis opened her mouth to argue further, yet no counter came immediately. She could not disagree with the truth in his statement; she had lived the effects of gang control her entire life. Still, fear for him overrode everything else. "Even if that's true, it's too dangerous. You can't take them on alone."

He placed a hand on her shoulder briefly. "They caught me unaware last time. I won't be caught unaware again."

In that moment, clarity settled over Ethan with a weight that anchored every scattered thought he had carried since gaining his abilities. He had wondered ever since he had discovered them why he possessed the power to absorb meta-human abilities, why such a strong gift was given to him. 

The answer crystallized fully as he stood in the alley with Artemis.

His childhood with parents lost to addiction, the neighborhood steeped in gang influence, the worst elements of Gotham surrounding him from birth—all of it had shown him the truth of how the city functioned. Criminal organizations thrived while ordinary people suffered, and no one with authority seemed able to excise the rot completely. Batman fought the symptoms and police contained the outbreaks, but the disease persisted.

He knew the truth now. 

He alone held the power to truly change things. 

He would change things. He would remake Gotham into a place where parasites like Iron Row could not exist. Step by step, ability by ability, he would build the strength required to purge the gangs entirely.

Artemis searched his face while worry etched lines around her eyes. "Ethan, please think about this. You don't have to do it alone, but you don't have to throw yourself at them either."

He offered her a small nod. "I will be careful. You should get home before curfew. Stay safe."

_____________________________________

Barbara walked down the hallway after she parted ways with Ethan at the junction where students streamed toward the lockers and exits. She waved to a few classmates who called her name, maintaining the appearance of heading to the computer lab as she had told Ethan earlier. She turned the corner toward the science wing, yet instead of entering the lab door that stood open with students already inside, she slipped into the girls' bathroom at the end of the corridor.

The room stood empty at that hour, and she checked each stall quickly to confirm no one lingered. She moved to the window that overlooked the rear courtyard, pushed it open with care to avoid noise, and climbed through onto the grass below. The drop measured only a few feet, and she landed lightly before she closed the window behind her. She crossed the courtyard swiftly, staying close to the hedges that bordered the fence, and exited through a maintenance gate that led to the alley behind the school.

A black sedan waited there with the engine idling quietly. Barbara approached the rear door, which opened from inside as she neared. She slid into the back seat and closed the door while the car pulled away smoothly from the curb.

Alfred Pennyworth sat in the driver's seat, he glanced at her in the rear-view mirror. "Good afternoon, Miss Barbara," he greeted her respectfully with his usual calm tone. "I trust your day at school went well."

"Thank you, Alfred," she replied while she fastened her seat belt.

In the seat beside her was Dick Grayson a kind of annoying surrogate younger brother type, dressed in the same Gotham Academy uniform she was though he was five years younger than she was. He focused on his handheld game console, but the moment Barbara settled in, Dick looked up with a grin that spread across his face. "So, Babs, skipping patrols again to hang out with your boyfriend? Bruce is gonna be thrilled when he hears you've been prioritizing smooches over saving the city."

Barbara felt heat rise to her cheeks immediately, and she reached over to swat his arm. "Shut up, Dick. It's none of your business."

He laughed and dodged her hand while he returned to his game. "Just saying, the big guy notices when Batgirl's MIA for weeks. You're lucky he hasn't dragged you down to the cave for a lecture yet."

She crossed her arms and stared out the window while the car merged into traffic that flowed toward the outskirts of the city. The drive to Wayne Manor took them through winding roads that passed gated estates and wooded areas until the manor gates opened automatically at their approach. The car proceeded up the long driveway lined with trees and stopped in front of the main entrance where stone steps led to the grand doors.

Alfred parked and turned off the engine before he addressed them both. "I shall prepare tea and some snacks for you in the kitchen. Master Bruce is currently down in the cave."

"Thank you, Alfred," Barbara said as she climbed out.

Dick pocketed his game console and echoed her thanks while they entered the manor. They navigated the corridors until they reached the hidden entrance behind the grandfather clock, which Dick adjusted to the correct time that triggered the mechanism. The clock swung open to reveal the stairs descending into the Batcave. They walked down the stone steps, and the vast cavern opened below with platforms extending over the depths. The Batcomputer dominated the central area, screens glowing with multiple displays of maps, news feeds, and data streams.

Bruce sat at the main console in the Batsuit minus the cowl, currently typing commands that pulled up surveillance footage. Dick moved to one of the nearby chairs, dropped into it casually, and swung his legs over the armrest while he pulled out his handheld game again.

Barbara approached Bruce directly and stood beside the console, "Why did you pull me out of school early? The science competition entry is due soon, and I need to finish the project Ethan and I are working on," she asked

Bruce continued typing for several seconds without responding, then he swiveled the chair to face her. She hadn't known Bruce for that long, maybe a year at most, but everytime he looked her in the eyes it felt like plunging into an ice cold bath. "Gotham is in chaos at the moment. A gang war sits right on the horizon, and the situation has worsened significantly. Kieran Deloe escaped from custody," he said in a stern tone. 

Barbara felt shock course through her, and her hand tightened on the edge of the console. "When did that happen?"

Bruce turned back to the screen briefly to pull up a file. "It doesn't matter when exactly. What matters is that he's free again, and Iron Row will rally around him," he replied. 

He swiveled to include Dick in his gaze, who had paused his game to listen. "I need both of you to give your full attention to patrols and operations at this time. If the violence escalates further, the city could break out into something worse than the current shootings and turf disputes."

Dick set his game console on the armrest and sat up straighter, "What do we need to do?" He asked. 

Bruce turned fully toward the large screen that displayed a map of Gotham with marked territories in different colors. He enlarged the sections controlled by Iron Row remnants and overlapping claims from other factions. "The best avenue for the moment is to focus on Iron Row. If we take them out of the picture entirely, the gang war will likely stop before it starts in full. The larger organisations will absorb the territory quietly, but they won't risk open conflict with each other over scraps."

Barbara nodded slowly while she processed the plan. "So we need to arrest the leaders of Iron Row, starting with Kieran if we can locate him."

Unease settled in her stomach at the mention of Iron Row. If Kieran had escaped, then Ethan remained in danger again. She wanted to pull out her phone immediately and text Ethan a warning, yet she knew Bruce would disapprove of involving a civilian, especially one living under her father's roof. She'd just have to make sure to keep him safe. 

Bruce continued without pause. "Tonight's patrols will cover the East End and harbor districts where Iron Row activity has spiked. Dick, you'll take the East End. Barbara, you'll pair with me on the docks and warehouses. We move at 10."

He then looked at Barbara. "Barbara, you should get home before curfew hits. Alfred will drive you. I'll see you tonight for the operation."

She nodded in agreement while her mind raced with concerns about Ethan. "Understood."

Dick stood from the chair and stretched while he retrieved his game console. "Guess playtime's over."

Bruce returned to the console, pulling up additional files on Kieran's known associates and recent escape details. Barbara lingered for a moment, watching the screens cycle through security footage, then turned toward the stairs with Dick following. They ascended to the manor proper where Alfred waited with a tray of tea and sandwiches in the study.

The afternoon passed with Barbara reviewing patrol plans in her mind while she rode home with Alfred. She arrived at the Gordon house before curfew, greeted her parents briefly, and retreated to her room to prepare for the night ahead.

_____________________________________

Harvey Bullock stood in the chambers of Judge Harlan Whitaker on the fourth floor of the Gotham County Courthouse, coat rumpled and tie loosened while he leaned forward with both hands planted on the polished desk. Papers lay scattered in front of the judge, including the warrant application that Harvey had prepared with meticulous detail. Judge Whitaker sat back in his leather chair with his glasses perched on the end of his nose while he reviewed the document one final time. He set it down carefully and shook his head. "I'm not signing this, Detective Bullock."

Harvey straightened slightly, frustration already building in his chest, "Your Honor, this warrant would allow us to compel the Gotham Academy tailor to cross-reference their digital records against the blazer fragment recovered from the Creedence Upshaw murder scene. That fragment is the only physical evidence we have," he almost growled out towards the judge. 

The judge removed his glasses and placed them on the desk beside the unsigned warrant. "And I am the eighth judge you've approached with the same request this week, isn't it?"

Harvey paused, caught off guard by the directness, yet he nodded. "...Yes, sir... The others declined, but I believe if you review the case I'm building—"

"I am aware of the case you've presented," Whitaker interrupted calmly as he leaned forward. "Judges talk to each other, Detective. We share notes on recurring applications, especially when the same name appears repeatedly. You seem to be on a crusade against this student, Ethan Kane."

Harvey opened his mouth to protest, yet the judge raised a hand to continue. "This case is a lost cause from an evidentiary standpoint. Nothing links Ethan Kane directly to the murder of Upshaw beyond an alleged piece of blazer fabric that could belong to any student at that school. You have no fingerprints, no witnesses, no forensic matches. Circumstantial threads do not justify compelling private records from an entire institution."

Harvey took a step closer to the desk, as the earlier frustration he felt burned into anger. "Your Honor, I believe the killer of Creedence Upshaw is linked to larger events that have shaken this city. The bombing at City Hall that destroyed server rooms, wnd the disappearance of Detective Renee Montoya who was investigating leads that pointed in the same direction—all of it connects. Renee has been missing for weeks now, and every day we delay gives the person responsible more time to cover tracks. She's one of us, a GCPD detective who put her life on the line daily. If this warrant goes unsigned, we lose the chance to follow the only solid lead we have."

He leaned in further, palms pressing harder against the desk. "Renee was closing in on something big when she vanished. Her notes, her movements, her last communications all circled back to avenues that intersect with this student. Denying this warrant means denying her a chance at being found. You have the power to authorize a simple records check that could break the case wide open." He may have been exaggerating slightly about what Renee was doing when she disappeared, but who gave a damn he knew that the kid was rotten. 

Judge Whitaker listened without interruption, while his expression remained neutral throughout the plea. When Harvey finished, the judge picked up the warrant again and placed it face down on a stack of other documents. "I sympathize with Detective Montoya's situation, and I hope she is located soon. However, sympathy does not override the requirements for probable cause. Your application does not meet the threshold. My answer is no, Detective Bullock. That's final, and don't bother going to another judge you'll find yourself recovering the same answer."

Harvey stood frozen for several seconds, staring at the unsigned paper while anger surged through him in waves that tightened his jaw and clenched his fists. He pushed away from the desk abruptly, grabbed his coat from the chair where he had left it, and stormed out of the chambers without another word. The door closed behind him with a slam that echoed down the marble hallway. He took the elevator down to the parking garage in silence. Once outside in the cold afternoon air, Harvey located his car in the row reserved for law enforcement. He unlocked the door, threw his coat into the back seat, and slammed the driver's door hard enough to rock the vehicle on its suspension.

He gripped the steering wheel with both hands until knuckles whitened, then pounded it once, twice, three times with the heel of his palm. The horn blared briefly with each impact. "Damn it!" he shouted inside the empty car.

Anger boiled over from yet another dead end. They had made no progress on finding Renee Montoya despite exhaustive searches, canvasses, and tip lines. Her apartment remained as she had left it. Every lead dried up or circled back to nothing concrete. Meanwhile, Ethan Kane walked free... attending classes, living under the commissioner's own roof, moving through the city as if no one could touch him.

Harvey slammed the dashboard with an open hand, rattling the loose change in the console. The kid mocked them all simply by existing unscathed while Renee suffered wherever she was hidden. Eight judges—eight!!!—had turned him down.

He leaned back in the seat, his chest still heaving while he stared at the car ceiling. The system, with its rules and thresholds and talk among judges, shielded the guilty as effectively as it pursued them sometimes. Probable cause, privacy rights, juvenile protections... all barriers that Ethan hid behind perfectly. Harvey ran a hand over his face, feeling the stubble that had grown over the past few weeks. If the courts would not help, then he would have to act on his own. He could not wait for approvals that never came. Renee deserved better than abandonment by the very system she served.

He started the engine with a twist of the key that roared to life, then shifted into reverse and pulled out of the space. The car exited the garage into traffic that flowed slowly through downtown streets. Harvey drove without a clear destination at first, mind turning over options that grew riskier with each rejected warrant. He could approach the tailor directly, pressure the man informally, or find former employees who might talk. He could tail Ethan himself during off-hours, document patterns, gather observations that built a new case from the ground up.

The anger simmered but focused now into determination while he merged onto a main avenue. Renee was out there, and Ethan knew more than he admitted. Harvey would find the connection, warrant or no warrant. He owed her that much, and the city owed her justice.

More than that though he wanted to wipe that smug fucking face off the kid. 

_____________________________________

The sounds of footsteps echoed out through the night as a woman ran through the empty building. She panted heavily, her breaths coming in ragged gasps while her eyes flashed bluish-white at irregular intervals; she looked around corners and doorways for any sign of movement. She grabbed a metal pole from the ground near a pile of debris that littered the floor, and screamed into the darkness, "Get away from me! Leave me alone!"

No one replied.

Her eyes flashed again, bluish-white light flickering across her irises, yet this time the glow remained, "I can see you now! Come out!" She stuttered out, unable to keep the fear from her voice. 

A moment later, someone stepped out from behind a stack of crates in the far corner. He wore black tactical gear that covered him from neck to boots, a black hockey mask concealed his face entirely, and a bulletproof vest strapped across his chest added bulk to his frame., "Your power must be ocular-based, some kind of expanded vision that lets you see through obstructions or in low light," he commented. 

The woman backed away with the pole raised in front of her, fear evident in her trembling hands, "What do you want? Leave me alone, please!" She asked desperately. 

The man continued getting closer and closer. "I want you to help me," he simply said.

The woman swung the pole at him in a desperate swing that whistled through the air, yet he avoided it easily by leaning back just enough for it to pass harmlessly in front of his chest. He slammed a fist into her stomach with enough force that it drove the air from her lungs in a sharp exhale, he then took the pole from her grasp with a quick twist that wrenched it free. With one quick punch to her jaw that snapped her head sideways, he knocked her out, and her body slumped to the floor in a heap.

He knelt beside her and removed one glove slowly, then lifted the hockey mask to reveal his face. Ethan Kane looked down at the woman, anticipation built in his expression while he sensed the power emanating from her in waves that only he could detect. He placed his bare hand on her forehead, fingers spreading across her skin, and initiated the transfer.

Energy surged into him in a rush that brought the familiar euphoric feeling he experienced whenever he stole an ability. Warmth spread through his veins, his vision sharpening momentarily as the power integrated with his own biology. When the process completed seconds later, he withdrew his hand and experimented internally with the new power. He focused on the darkness in the far corner of the building, and details emerged clearly where shadows had hidden them before. Thermal overlays highlighted residual heat from her footprints on the floor. He shifted to x-ray mode and saw through the nearby wall to the structural beams beyond. It was clear he was right about the ability but strangely enough he found that the ability wasn't complete... there was more to it, though what it was he did not know.  

"Another successful hunt," Ethan murmured to himself as he stood up from the ground and put his glove back on followed by his mask.

It had been a week since he met Artemis in the alley and learned about Iron Row's renewed aggression, and in that time he had located three individuals with meta abilities including this woman. He had added to his repertoire of powers in ways that enhanced his capabilities significantly. The first had been a man who could manipulate his bioelectric field to adhere to walls and ceilings, allowing vertical and inverted movement without effort. The chase through a construction site had tested Ethan's agility, yet he managed to corner the man and absorb the ability after a brief struggle. The second involved a man who adjusted his size up to one and a half times his normal proportions, when Ethan used it, it scaled him to over eight feet tall and more than two hundred fifty kilograms of muscle when he used it. Combined with Hyperadrenal, the size increase amplified his strength to levels that shattered concrete with punches. The third, this woman's expanded vision, rounded out the set with utility that extended his perception beyond human limits.

To his surprise, meta-humans appeared more common in Gotham than he had anticipated, scattered through the underbelly of the city where abilities often manifested in response to trauma. However he had not just hunted for powers during the week; he had also conducted research on Iron Row through overheard conversations in the East End, hacked public records, and shadowed low-level members. The efforts revealed several safe houses where the gang stored weapons, drugs, and cash reserves.

With his final ability now inside him he was ready to make use of that information. 

Ethan quickly left the abandoned building through a side door that led to an overgrown lot behind it. He used enhanced agility to leap over a chain-link fence in one bound, then he activated the wall-crawling ability to scale the side of an adjacent structure where his feet and hands adhered to the brick surface effortlessly. He traversed rooftops across the terrain, sticking to shadows and using thermal vision to scan for witnesses below while he moved toward the outskirts.

He crossed Gotham under the cover of nighy, sticking to alleys and fire escapes that allowed him to avoid main streets patrolled by police. The journey took him to the mansion on the edge of the city. He entered through the rear entrance that he had reinforced with a new lock, grabbed a bag of food and water from the kitchen pantry where he kept supplies stocked, and descended the stairs to the basement level.

Renee Montoya waited in the cell below. She sat naked on the thin mattress in the corner, reading a book that he had provided during his last visit, she did not even bother to regard him when he walked into the space. The routine had become familiar to her over the weeks, another part of her day that blended into the monotony of captivity.

Ethan walked to her cell and opened it with the key from his pocket, stepping inside to place the tray of food on the small table beside her mattress. At that moment, Renee threw the book at him with a quick fling of her arm and dashed forward in an attempt to overpower him. Ethan dodged the book easily as it sailed past his head and clattered against the wall, then he caught her punch in his open palm while he sidestepped the kick that followed. She transitioned into an attempted throw, grabbing his arm to leverage her weight against him.

Ethan went with the motion of the throw, yet he activated the wall-crawling ability to stick his feet to the floor and reversed the momentum with a twist that sent her flying across the room into the opposite wall where she landed with a thud.

He jumped down from his anchored position and rushed at her as she pushed herself up from the floor. Ethan hit her with a superman punch that connected squarely with her jaw and sent her back down to the ground where she panted heavily while she sat there for a moment to catch her breath. Renee kicked her legs up in a sweep that aimed at his ankles, which caught him off guard enough to unbalance him briefly. Ethan changed the fall into a flip by pushing off with his hands and landed on top of her, pinning her arms to the floor beneath his knees while his weight held her in place.

They stared at each other for a moment, their breaths mingling in the close space, before she tutted in resignation, "I give up," she said. 

Ethan let her go immediately, releasing her arms and standing up in one smooth motion. He picked up a chair that had gotten kicked over during the struggle and set it upright in front of the cell door, then he sat down and took off his mask to reveal his face.

Renee sat down on the floor across from him and grabbed her tray of food, pulling it closer while she started eating the sandwich he had prepared. "How was your day?" She asked between bites. 

He leaned back in the chair slightly, "I acquired another ability today. I believe I'm ready to make my move against Iron Row," he replied. 

Renee paused with the sandwich halfway to her mouth and looked at him directly. "I still think it's a bad idea, it would work out better turning your evidence into the police. You are just a kid, and it is stupid to get tangled in a gang conflict that could get you killed."

"They will eventually come after me again," Ethan replied without hesitation. "Besides, they are complete scum. No one will complain when they are gone."

She set the sandwich down on the tray and wiped her hands on a napkin he had included. "The problem will always be there as long as the money flows through the streets. Gangs reform around profit, and taking out one group just invites another to fill the void."

Ethan nodded in acknowledgment of her point. "I know that. That is why I am targeting their labs where they produce and store the drugs that generate the money."

Her expression shifted to shock as she leaned forward slightly. "You found their labs? How?"

Ethan crossed his arms, "It was easy. You just need to follow the right people," he explained. 

Their conversation evolved gradually into more small talk subjects as Renee finished her meal and set the tray aside. Ethan talked about his problems with Barbara, describing how he found the prospect of a relationship confusing with its emotional demands that he struggled to navigate. "She expects things from me that I do not always understand, like constant reassurance or sharing feelings that I process differently."

Renee listened while she sat with her back against the cell wall, and she offered advice about women in a straightforward manner. "Women like Barbara want to feel connected, so listen when she talks about her day and ask questions that show you care. Small gestures matter more than grand ones, hold her hand without her asking, or remember something she mentioned weeks ago."

Ethan took the advice on board, nodding as he absorbed the insights that clarified some interactions. They talked for a bit longer about daily life in the Gordon house, with Ethan mentioning the curfew restrictions and Renee sharing memories of her own youth in Gotham that paralleled some experiences. The exchange flowed naturally until Ethan glanced at his watch and stood up.

He gave her another book from the bag he had brought, along with a few crossword puzzle magazines that he placed on the table. "I need to go now, but I will come and see you tomorrow."

Renee waved him off casually and returned to reading her book as he locked the cell door and left the basement.

Once Ethan left the mansion and stepped into the night air outside, he reflected on how their relationship had changed since his time in the hospital. He could not explain the shift fully, yet he found a strange kind of comfort in talking to the older woman about matters he kept hidden from others. Perhaps the ease came from knowing she would never make it out of that room with the secrets he shared, or perhaps he liked her in some way that transcended the captor-captive dynamic. He did not know the exact reason, but he would not ignore the feeling of comfort and relief that washed over him whenever he unburdened himself about thoughts and plans he had been keeping inside for so long. It was strange to feel that way toward someone he held prisoner, yet the conversations grounded him in ways no one else could.

Though the foolishness of the arrangement did not escape him; if there was even the slightest chance that she could escape, he should not reveal anything to her. Yet he still did, drawn back each time by the unspoken understanding that had developed between them.

He could not think about that for now. He had work to do, and soon Iron Row would come crumbling down under the weight of his will.

(AN: There was a lot I wanted to add into this chapter so I decided it should be a two parter. I kinda glossed over him getting his additional powers, mostly cause it's largely unimportant. You just need to know what powers he has. No point making a Whole backstory for each one. So yeah hope you're looking forward for a lot of fighting next chapter.)