DC: All for One Chapter 7 - More than I Was Before

Ethan walked through Metropolis at a slow pace, while he had a lot to do he'd never left Gotham before and he wanted to take it all in. Metropolis. He'd seen it in various pictures and videos, but none of that compared to actually seeing it in person. Gotham and Metropolis stood less than thirty miles apart. The distance between them could be crossed in less than an hour. Yet they were not only two different cities. They were two different worlds. In Gotham, people walked with their heads low. They expected nothing from the day except what they could hold on to by force. In Metropolis, people moved as if they believed tomorrow would give them more than today. They spoke with strangers without suspicion. They lived as though safety was not only real, but a guarantee of their daily lives.

Ethan wondered if Gotham could ever reach that point. He wondered if years of broken people, broken laws, and broken lives could be undone with enough time and enough will. It was easy to think that order could be imposed, and that once the gangs and the crooked officers were gone the city would breathe again. But Gotham was more than crime. Gotham was something built into the people who lived there. It shaped them, and they shaped it in return.

Metropolis looked like the height of human will. Gotham looked like the depth of human failure. Ethan thought on which of the two was closer to the truth. People liked to believe in progress, in better lives, in the chance to climb higher. That was Metropolis. But people also tore down what they could not hold. People took from others when they had nothing of their own. People trusted no one but themselves. That was Gotham. Both existed. Both seemed to be human.

If that was the case then perhaps Gotham was the more honest of the two. Metropolis might only be possible because men like Superman kept it standing. If you removed him and removed the safety net he gave then maybe the city would fall into the same spiral as Gotham. Gotham did not need to fall. Gotham had always been that way. People were born into it and they learned to survive in it. They adapted to hunger, to violence, to corruption, until they became as much a part of it as the bricks in the buildings.

Ethan considered if he should hope for change. He had lived in Gotham his whole life and it had given him nothing. Yet he felt a pull when he walked through Metropolis. It was not envy. It was not wonder. It was a need to understand if the difference was real or if it was only skin deep. He wanted to know if the smiles on the faces around him came from a true place or if they were as thin as the glass towers they lived in.

Metropolis might be what people wanted to believe they were. Gotham might be what they really were when stripped of the chance to pretend. Ethan did not know which one he respected more. He walked on in silence and let the thought turn over and over in his mind. He also thought about each of the people he had come here for. He had plans for each of the four targets. Each one would fall quickly if the plan went off without a hitch.

The real problem wasn't if he could do it. No. The real problem came in red and blue spandex. Superman. The man's hearing stretched across the city and maybe farther. It picked up heartbeats in crowds. It caught whispers from blocks away. If one target screamed for help, Superman would arrive before Ethan even finished knocking them out. Four targets meant four chances for a cry. While he was confident that he could pull off each plan without summoning the Boy Scout, four targets meant four chances for something to go wrong and if Superman were to show up then it was game over, nothing he had right now would be able to contend with the powerhouse.

He needed a distraction. Something big enough to pull Superman away and have him focusing on it so much that any screams he heard wouldn't pull him away. Something that forced him to act. Ethan had such a distraction, a plan he had built step by step. He stopped at a bench and sat down. The wood felt smooth under his hands. It wasn't a very complicated plan, but there was no doubt at all it carried its own risk.

Step one: Acquire the chemicals. Potassium permanganate from a hospital lab supply store, as well as Glycerol and ethanol. Magnesium strips from a hardware shop, he could also get an oxygen tank from patient care at the hospital.

Step two: Assemble the ignition setup. Find a quiet spot. A storage room or empty closet. Mix the potassium permanganate and glycerol in a sealed container. Add a small valve. Connect it to a timer. Use a digital timer modified with wires from a battery pack. The delay would trigger a pin to release the mix.

Step three: Add the magnesium powder around the container. It would burn hot once lit. Soak rags in ethanol nearby. They would vaporize and spread the fire. Rig the oxygen tank with a valve opener tied to the same timer. The gas would feed the flames just before ignition.

Step four: Set the timer for ten to fifteen minutes. That gave time to leave. Use a side door or service exit. If he has followed everyone's schedules correctly then around this time he should be able to hit all 4 of them in 30-40 minutes.

Step five: Activate the timer. When it hits zero the fire would start slow. Then it would grow quickly. Superman would arrive and would fly in to help. But his super breath would fan the oxygen and feed the magnesium. The flames would flare higher and temporarily cause more distraction. That would buy Ethan the window he needed.

Ethan leaned back on the bench as he considered the risks. A hospital made sense as it would draw superman's full attention. But it came with the risk that it would kill people which he wasn't sure he would wanted. He thought for a moment. The roof of a hospital worked better. Less damage inside. Stairs and elevators would clear people fast. Superman would spot it from the sky and there would be much less mess and it would be unlikely for anyone to die.

'Alright... Time to get to work.'

...

Ethan moved through the streets of Metropolis with slowly, trying to adjust his pace to match those around him, blending into the midday crowd; people in Gotham walked as if they were just about to break into a sprint, which wasn't too surprising considering you likely would have to start running nine times out of ten. Twenty minutes later, he reached the hospital district, where tall white buildings with gleaming glass facades reflected the sun without a hint of grime or cracks, Ethan even noted the lack of drug addicts sleeping on the sidewalk outside.

No one gave him a second glance as he entered the building and approached the badge scanner for employees. When he walked in he intentionally brushed past one of the doctors and lifted his ID. He brushed his fingers over the stolen doctor's ID and used it to gain access and head upstairs to the supply room. On the third floor, he scanned it at the supply closet, the lock clicking open to reveal neatly stocked shelves. He quickly filled a duffel bag with what he needed: potassium permanganate crystals from the chem lab kit, glycerol from the pharmacy cart, ethanol bottles from the sterilization shelf, and an oxygen tank. Each item was placed carefully to avoid clinking as he zipped the bag shut and exited, the halls empty during shift change.

He walked upstairs ti the roof where he sat down behind the entryway. In the shade of a wall, he worked quickly: mixing the potassium permanganate and glycerol in a sealed plastic container, the purple crystals dissolving into a viscous slurry. He capped it with a valve rigged to a digital timer. The setup would trigger a pin to puncture the seal after ten minutes. He sprinkled magnesium powder around the base for a sustained burn, arranged ethanol-soaked rags in a circle to vaporize on ignition, and positioned the oxygen tank nearby, its valve tied to the same circuit—a spring-loaded clip ready to flood the area with gas just before the spark.

He placed the backpack near the center, away from vents that might draw in the fumes too soon, and set the timer. The digital display began counting down from 10:00 as he backed away, slipping through the door and descending two flights to the lobby. There, he melted into the crowd of visitors, before exiting and walking a block to a coffee shop with a view of the roofline.

He ordered a black coffee and sat by the window, sipping slowly while watching the seconds tick by on his watch. The city remained oblivious until exactly ten minutes later. A muffled whoomph erupted from the rooftop, followed by flames licking over the parapet. Orange tongues spread fast as the ethanol vapors ignited, magnesium flaring in white-hot bursts fed by the released oxygen. The fire roared upward in a pillar, drawing shouts from below.

Sirens wailed almost immediately, but Ethan kept his eyes on the sky. A blue streak broke through the clouds—Superman arriving in seconds. He hovered above the blaze, his super breath gusting out to douse it, but it only whipped the oxygen into a frenzy. Flames flared higher, spitting magnesium embers that reignited pockets on the gravel. He dove lower, punching through a roof section to vent the heat, while grabbing a rooftop hose, only for the water to spark hydrogen pops from the metal strips.

Ethan watched with a blank expression, the plan unfolding precisely as planned. A large amount of satisfaction settled in his chest. With the duffel bag over his shoulder, he headed to his first target; an apartment building off Centennial Park. In a side entrance stairwell alcove, he changed into a plumber's outfit topped with an itchy blonde wig and a fake beard. A quick check in his bag's mirror showed a nondescript middle-aged man. He shouldered a toolbox filled with pipes and wrenches for show and climbed to the fourth floor, to door 4B: David Helbaum's.

He knocked three times and waited. Footsteps approached, and the door opened to reveal David Helbaum, a lanky mid-twenties guy with tousled brown hair and a friendly smile, in a graphic tee and jeans.

"Can I help you?" David Helbaum asked with a smile on his face.

Ethan smiled back, pitching his voice lower than normal. "Morning, sir. Name's Tom Reilly with Metro Plumbing Services. The Landlord has sent me to check the water pressure. We're adjusting the building's water supply lines today, won't take but a minute."

David Helbaum's eyes lit up, and he stepped back. "Oh, sure, come on in. Didn't know about that, but hey, free check-up's a free check-up. Want some coffee? I just brewed a pot, keeps me going through these late shifts."

Ethan entered, closing the door with a soft click. The apartment was tidy, bookshelves lining walls, sunlight streaming through clean windows overlooking the park. A jolt of surprise hit him, he'd expected resistance, a door chain, or credential checks. But David Helbaum had let him in without hesitation, even turning his back to pour two mugs at the kitchen counter.

Truth be told, Ethan felt a bit silly. He'd prepped contingencies, fake IDs, backup stories. All unnecessary in this trusting city. But it didn't matter now. Because the power called to him from across the room... a subtle hum in his veins, quickening his pulse as David Helbaum poured. Ethan pulled a rag from his toolbox, doused it with chloroform, and moved silently behind him. He clamped the cloth over David Helbaum's mouth and nose, muffling a startled grunt. David Helbaum tensed and tried to struggle, but the chemical worked fast. His limbs went slack, and Ethan held him until the twitching stopped, lowering the unconscious body to the floor, the rug cushioning the fall.

'Pretty easy,' Ethan thought, kneeling beside him. Being so close now he could almost sniff the meta-power, it pulsed like a second heartbeat under his skin. He pressed his fingers to David Helbaum's neck, at the pulse point where the energy gathered strongest, and pulled. It resisted at first, like a thread snagged on a hook, but in the end it couldn't resist him and it yielded. Ethan consumed it, the rush flooding his senses, his vision sharpening, a euphoric tingle spreading from his chest.

He stood slowly, the new ability humming within his veins. Unlike hyperadrenal, this power demanded no strain. Just a toggle, on or off at will. Ethan moved to the living room window, opened it, and stepped onto the fire escape. The metal groaned, but he leaped to the railing, vaulting over in an easy flip to the next landing. The agility made each motion instinctive, joints anticipating paths before his mind did. He dropped another story in one bound, his knees absorbing the impact smoothly, then cartwheeled across the platform to the opposite building's ledge. Hands and feet gripped brick like they belonged there. He pulled himself up, balancing on the edge with one hand dangling over the void, the city below feeling almost too navigable.

Smiling widely as the rush settled he hopped back inside. He then put on some clothes and then rifled drawers for cash, pocketing a few hundred from a nightstand envelope to stage a burglary. He scattered drawers, knocked over a lamp and left. He now had his second power and in just under an hour he would have his third, fourth and fifth. A smile formed on Ethan's face as he thought about it.

...

The next two went smoothly, Metropolis's trust making it almost too simple. First, Albert Heinz in a quiet alley behind a bookstore after his shift. Ethan cornered him, knocking him out and grabbing his arm to steal the scent-masking powers.

Then Jesse Nash who was able to alter his voice and mimic anyone he'd heard before. Getting into his apartment was almost too easy; prior research on him had marked him as a avid drug user, so he only needed to market himself as such and he was able to get inside and take his power, all while shooting him up with a sedative that he'd stolen from the hospital. Jesse was by far the easiest target of the day and while he didn't have the most useful power, it was definitely going to help Ethan buy some time for himself.

Now the only one who remained was Lucy Cannon. While her regenerative ability was on the minor side, any kind of ability that let Ethan heal would be a boon to him—at least until he could get something better. Lucy lived in a richer area of Metropolis, close to the Daily Planet newspaper. While it had all been easy until this point, he found himself being a lot more cautious. Logically speaking he knew that it was because in Gotham richer areas like this had a lot more security. That logic didn't apply to Metropolis. While there were richer and more humble areas, none were any safer than the other—or at least the margins were so small it didn't matter.

Despite knowing this he was still cautious, and it was the reason he left her until last and had come up with a special plan for her. Getting into the building would be easy, he just needed to imitate a pizza delivery person. He would call for a pizza delivery to the apartment itself and then intercept said delivery person and take their place. Once he was inside the building it was just a matter of using one of his new abilities. Lucy's husband had recently died, which Ethan had found out when stalking her social media. There were also quite a few videos of the both of them.

Logically speaking this was overly elaborate and based on experience he should be able to get them to open the door without such methods, but in all honestly Ethan just wanted to use his new powers.

Now dressed as a Pizza delivery boy, Ethan was able to easily walk past the security desk and go straight to the 14th floor. Apartment 53A was on the left hand side of the corridor. He discarded the pizza delivery uniform and pizza down the garbage chute before he knocked on the apartment door.

"Lucy, honey?! Are you there," he spoke while using his voice mimicry. "Please let me inside," he added. It surprised Ethan at how masterful the imitation was; it was as if there was perfect coordination between his ears and the muscles controlling his throat. Ethan readied the cloth filled with chloroform as he heard extremely fast footsteps coming towards the door. The moment the door slammed open Ethan put the rag to her mouth and pushed himself inside and shut the door, all in one smooth motion.

'Damn it...' he thought to himself as he lowered the girl onto the floor.

For such an overly elaborate plan, to not consider the fact she might not be alone was pure idiocy. He should've scouted the apartment beforehand, but he was overly confident as all the other encounters had gone so well. But now he was standing in Lucy's apartment with a rag over her mouth and in front of him was another woman. She had dark hair passed her shoulders, blue eyes and red lips. Conventionally beautiful, but she was dressed in what could simply be described as an office outfit—a shirt, blazer and a skirt.

Ethan expected her to scream, but contrary to that she instead reached into her purse and pulled out a taser. Ethan dropped Lucy and using his new power, he flipped on one hand away from the electrical prongs that had fired towards him.

"You bastard!" She spat before she jumped over the sofa and disconnected the prongs—changing it into  close range mode. Ethan easily avoided each jab of the taser before he bent her elbow inwards and forced her to tase herself. He caught her before she collapsed to the ground and set her by the sofa, but not before taking the taser, disassembling it, and throwing it in the sink.

Ethan sighed as he stood up, then he waited. One second, two seconds, five seconds, ten seconds. No one came, there was no whip-crack of the sound barrier breaking nor was there a boy in blue stood behind him wiggling his finger. It seemed he'd managed not to draw any attention. Ethan moved over to Lucy who still lay on the ground, he then grabbed her wrist and ripped her power out of her and absorbed it into himself. The familiar rush of endorphins came quickly after, but Ethan managed to smother them as he focused on the more pressing issue of getting the hell out of here before he pressed his luck any further.

He was done with metropolis for now, he just needed to get back to Gotham. The list of things he had to deal with was getting shorter and he was well on his way to gaining a little security, he just needed to do a few more things.

First he needed to get rid of these clothes and wear his spares, then create an alibi for the cops when they eventually find out about his little trip here. Which they will. They'd no doubt link Renee Montoya's disappearance with his departure to Metropolis. They'll also be able to link both explosions to him the same way, though all of that is circumstantial so it didn't worry him. They'd need to show motive and for that they'd need evidence that he killed Creedence which they didn't have because he blew up City Hall servers.

Without that camera footage all they could do is point fingers.

Ethan smiled to himself as he left the apartment the game was coming close to its conclusion, it was a shame they were playing against him.

_____________________________________

The train slid into Gotham Central a little after three. Ethan stepped off with a plain duffel and a change of clothes, crossed the concourse without looking up at the cracked skylight, and cut out through a side door where the cabs idled with their hoods rattling. He kept to the edge of the crowd and let the city fold back over him. Two turns, one glance in a dark window to make sure no one had peeled off and followed him, then he walked, heading back to his apartment.

*Bzzzt*

Barbara: hey... are you free today to work on the plan for the national science competition?

He stopped under a dead streetlight and thought about whether he should accept. In truth he planned to rest until later tonight after which he'd go back towards the mansion and feed the detective. He decided to accept her invitation, he needed to work on his plan for a Super Serum and getting started sooner rather than later was better. Hyperadrenal was his best offensive power so he needed to mitigate its drawbacks.

Ethan: I can. When?

Barbara: now is good if that's okay

Ethan: on my way

He swapped jackets in a doorway, dumped the old one in a bin, and took a bus east. The windows turned the city into a smear. He got off two stops early and walked the rest, counting crosswalk seconds, letting the tick steady his thoughts. Her place was a narrow brick row house. He buzzed. He then heard Footsteps on wood, then the latch and the chain and the door opening just enough for a shy smile before it opened all the way. She wore a soft sweater with the sleeves pushed up and her hair tied back and she nudged her glasses higher when she smiled.

She smiled shyly, cheeks flushing slightly as she let him in. "Hey, Ethan. Thanks for coming over so quick."

"No problem," he replied flatly, stepping inside. He looked around as he didn't hear the sounds of any other footsteps or voices. "Where is everyone else?"

Barbara waved it off, her gaze flickering away. "They're out. We've got the place to ourselves, no interruptions so we can." She led him to her room, her steps a bit tentative.

Ethan followed, not probing further; people's family dynamics weren't something he dwelled on. In her room, a large whiteboard dominated one wall, filled with equations and charts. "Nice board," he said matter-of-factly. "I have one like it."

Barbara's eyes lit up. "Really? That's awesome!" She reached out, touching his arm briefly before pulling back, blushing deeply. "Sorry, I just... yeah, let's get started."

Ethan didn't notice the subtle shift in Barbara's posture as he turned to the whiteboard, marker in hand. He began sketching out the core structure of the formula, lines connecting compounds in a precise web. "Yesterday I brought up a DNA based entry for the science competition and I believe I have one that's viable," he said while continuing to write.

"The idea is a serum that boosts base human abilities by about twofold for a temporary period, say an hour or two. Nothing permanent, just enough to give an edge in high-stress situations without long-term risks."

Barbara sat on the edge of her bed, crossing her legs as she watched him, her brow furrowing slightly.

"Temporary enhancement? Ethan, that's ambitious. People have tried super serums before but most ended badly; organ failure, psychological breakdowns, even mutations that turned test subjects into... well, monsters. What makes yours different? How will we avoid the side effects?"

He paused, capping the marker briefly before uncapping it again, his tone even and detached. "It's in the binding agents. We'd use a modified adenosine receptor agonist as the base, paired with a neural amplifier like a synthetic nootropic. The twofold boost comes from temporarily overclocking ATP production in cells, but with a built-in decay mechanism; enzymes that break it down after the peak. Meaning no lingering buildup."

She tilted her head, pushing her glasses up her nose. "ATP overclocking? That sounds like it could spike lactic acid levels, leading to fatigue or worse. Have you thought about mitochondrial stress? Cells aren't designed for that kind of surge."

Ethan nodded, adding a side note to the board. "Exactly. That's why we'd incorporate a mitochondrial protectant, something like a derivative of CoQ10, stabilized in liposomes for targeted delivery. It buffers the energy spike, prevents oxidative damage. Tests in simulations show it caps the risk at minimal—maybe a headache at worst."

Barbara leaned forward, her skepticism giving way to intrigue. "Simulations? You've run models already? What about bioavailability? Injecting it means fast uptake, but oral would be safer for competition demos. How do you ensure it crosses the blood-brain barrier without carriers that could cause inflammation?"

"Peptide shuttles," he replied without hesitation, drawing a quick diagram of the molecular chain. "Non-immunogenic ones, engineered to ferry the active compounds across. I've tweaked the sequence to avoid cytokine storm. It should integrate smoothly, ramp up neural firing rates for the cognition boost, and enhance myosin-actin interactions for the physical side."

Her eyes widened as she absorbed it, standing up slowly and approaching the board. "Myosin-actin... you're talking myofibril efficiency? That's clever, but you'd need a calcium channel modulator to prevent cramps. Here, let me..." Forgetting her earlier hesitation, she took the marker from his hand, their fingers brushing without her pulling away this time. She filled in a gap in the formula, adding a branching path for ion regulation. "Like this... add a low-dose verapamil analog. It stabilizes the surge."

Ethan stepped back slightly, surprised by her addition, but he didn't comment on it. Instead, he examined it. "That works. It ties into the decay phase perfectly. We could calibrate the dosage based on body mass to make it scalable."

They bounced ideas back and forth, markers switching hands as equations filled the board. Barbara's questions grew better, probing weak points, and Ethan's explanations filled them in, layer by layer. She suggested a feedback loop using biofeedback markers to auto-adjust the serum's intensity mid-use; he countered with a simpler enzymatic timer to avoid complexity. Together, they refined the structure, crossing out flaws and building on strengths until the formula coalesced into something viable—a blueprint that, on paper at least, looked flawless.

When the last variable clicked into place, Barbara let out a squeal of excitement, dropping the marker and launching herself at him. She jumped up, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist in a tight hug. "We did it! Ethan, this is genius! We actually have a working formula!"

Ethan caught her instinctively, his hands steadying her ass, but his expression remained blank with some slight surprise. The sudden closeness registered as an odd variable in human behavior, not unpleasant but unexpected. As her excitement faded, Barbara's face turned crimson, and she quickly unwound herself, jumping down and stepping back. "Oh god, I'm so sorry! That was... I didn't mean to... sorry, Ethan, really!"

"It's fine," he said simply, brushing it off without emotion.

Barbara turned away, fidgeting with her hands as she moved toward the bed, twisting her fingers together. "Yeah, okay... um..."

"Barbara," Ethan said.

She spun back, pushing her glasses up again. "Yes?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," she replied, her voice a bit higher than usual.

"Are you romantically interested in me?"

Barbara's eyes went wide, her face exploding into a deep blush that spread down her neck. She stood frozen for a second, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "W-what? Ethan, you can't just... you can't just ask a girl that outright! That's... that's not how it works!"

He tilted his head slightly. "I apologize if you're not. But the way you act gave me that impression."

"No, no, I—" She cut herself off, realizing what she'd admitted, and her blush deepened to a near-purple shade. She buried her face in her hands, muttering under her breath as she shuffled to the bed and flopped down. "Oh god, I want to die right now. Just bury me."

Ethan observed her, finding the reaction puzzling—people's emotional outbursts often seemed weird to him. He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed beside her. "I ask because I'm slightly confused as to why you are romantically interested. Is it because of my physical appearance?"

"No!" She bolted upright, shaking her head vigorously. "It's not that... well, not just that. It's your mind, Ethan! You're so incredibly smart, the way you dissect problems and come up with these creative solutions out of nowhere. Like with the serum, you think in ways no one else does, layering ideas that seem impossible until you explain them. I love how your brain works, how you see patterns in such mundane things. It's... it's inspiring, and exciting, and I just... I can't stop thinking about it!" She rambled without pausing for breath, words tumbling out in a rush, before slamming a pillow over her face with a muffled groan.

"I see," Ethan said, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

Barbara peeked out from under the pillow, summoning a burst of bravery. "Is... is it okay that I like you? Like, does it bother you?"

He shrugged. "I have no experience with it."

She shifted closer on the bed, her knee brushing his. "Would you... be interested in me? In trying, I mean?"

Ethan considered it. Having a new experience, would be potentially useful for understanding social dynamics. "It would be a good experience to have." He nodded. "We could try it."

Barbara's heart raced, an internal squeal bubbling up, but before she could respond, Ethan leaned forward and kissed her. His lips pressed against hers firmly, catching her off guard. She melted into it for a moment, her body leaning toward him instinctively, eyes fluttering shut.

But then reality hit, and she pushed him back gently, stuttering. "E-Ethan, you can't just surprise me like that! I mean, wow, but... warn a girl!"

He pulled back, unfazed. "I apologize. I'm not really sure what people in relationships do. Was it bad?"

"It wasn't bad," Barbara said quickly, her gaze dropping to the floor before lifting back to his eyes, still flushed. "It just surprised me. We can... try again, if you want."

Ethan nodded, and this time he leaned in more deliberately. Their lips met softer at first, but it deepened quickly, his mouth parting hers, tongues sliding together in a warm tangle. She tasted faintly of mint, her tongue tentative at first but growing bolder, flicking against his as a soft moan escaped her throat. Ethan's hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, feeling the heat of her body press against him as the kiss turned hungry, tongues swirling deeper, breaths mingling in hot exchanges. Her fingers threaded into his hair, tugging lightly as another contented moan vibrated into his mouth.

They broke apart only when a door slammed downstairs, the sound echoing up. Barbara drew back. "That's probably my mom. Please, don't tell her about us dating... not yet, okay?"

Ethan nodded, standing up smoothly. "I need to get going now anyway."

She stood too, nodding. "Will I see you soon?"

"Yes," he said.

Barbara smiled, rising on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss. "See you."

...

Ethan walked down the steps of the Gordon house, the door clicking shut behind him. A faint sense of satisfaction settled in as he headed into the street—now he had an open invitation to the Commissioner's home. Dating Barbara meant he'd become a fixture there, someone unremarkable, trusted. When the moment came for the police to bring him in it would do well to have the Commissioner on his side. That access was the primary motive for starting this... relationship, whatever it was. Though, he admitted to himself, there was a sliver of curiosity about how it worked. His parents' bond was hardly a model; heroin addicts didn't exactly embody healthy dynamics.

He walked back to the Doothenhall mansion, the trip blurring by without much thought. Though when stepping through the front door, a wave of dizziness hit him hard; he stumbled, catching himself on the banister. He knew the reason why, he was approaching on two days without sleep, and it was clear his body was now starting to feel some effects. But he could rest later, for now he had to deal with the detective.

In the kitchen, he threw together a simple meal: a sandwich with ham and cheese, an apple, a bottle of water. Nothing fancy, just sustenance. He loaded it onto a tray and descended to the basement, flicking on the lights as he went. The harsh bulbs buzzed to life, illuminating the cell in the corner where Renee Montoya sat huddled, her eyes snapping open at the sound of his footsteps.

She bolted upright, chains rattling faintly against the floor. Two days in isolation had frayed her; hair disheveled, eyes wild with a mix of boredom and simmering rage, her posture tense like a coiled spring.

"Sorry for the absence," Ethan said evenly, setting the tray down. "Business in Metropolis kept me away."

Renee glared, but her gaze flicked to the food, hunger winning out. Ethan slid the tray through the small slot in the door, locking his side with a click. She yanked hers open, grabbing the items and tearing into the sandwich without a word her bites frantic and ungraceful, crumbs scattering as she devoured it.

Ethan grabbed a nearby chair, its legs scraping faintly against the concrete floor as he dragged it over and positioned it directly in front of the massive glass cell. He sat down, crossing his arms loosely, and fell silent, his gaze fixed on Renee as she ate. She devoured the food without a hint of self-consciousness, her naked body exposed but irrelevant to her in that moment—hunger overriding everything else. Ethan respected that; social conventions like modesty had always baffled him, especially when they interfered with basic needs.

He remained there not moving an inch, even after she finished the last bite and set the empty tray aside, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. He was silent for a while just watching her, while she watched him back. Finally, he spoke. "You ever find it strange when you're put in a situation and you find yourself doing things that you never thought yourself capable of doing?"

Renee didn't reply, her eyes narrowing slightly as she met his stare.

"Before I encountered Creedence, the worst crime I ever committed was buying drugs... not even for myself, but for my parents."

He paused, letting the words settle. "Now I've murdered Creedence, I've murdered that other man who showed up at the apartment, I kidnapped a detective, I blew up city hall, I blew up a hospital."

Renee's head snapped up fully, her expression twisting in shock. "What? You blew up a hospital, and city hall?! Why would you do that!"

"Don't worry detective, there were no casualties in either case. I made sure of that. But I had to. One to get rid of the evidence, and two to distract Superman, even I'm not foolish enough to tangle with him."

Renee stared at him for a moment, then surged forward, slamming her fists against the glass with a resounding thud. "¡Hijo de puta! ¡Estás loco, cabrón! ¡Vas a arder en el infierno por esto!" (Son of a bitch! You're crazy, asshole! You're going to burn in hell for this!)

Ethan tilted his head, responding calmly. "No estoy loco." (I'm not crazy.)

Her eyes widened in surprise at his proficiency, but she quickly switched back to English, her voice edged with urgency. "You have to give yourself up. Things are spiraling out of control, they'll only get worse from here."

Ethan considered that for a moment, stroking his chin absently. "You do have a point there. Things have gotten worse. But it's not too much of an issue, the game is nearly over now."

"What does that mean?" Renee asked, a note of concern creeping into her tone.

Ethan didn't reply, his expression unchanging.

"I do find myself wondering what I'll do when it's all over," he said changing the subject.

He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping a fraction. "I feel... afraid," he admitted.

"I'm afraid that life will go back to how it was before... that I'll sink back into the void I've spent my life in, such a dull existence. Even now I wonder how I went on for so long without screaming."

"But what's the alternative? I have so much power and potential, and yet I can't think of what to do with it."

"Maybe I should become a villain," he said idly. "It would be interesting to try and take down beings like Superman."

Renee didn't know why, but that idea sent a chill through her, a deep, instinctive terror at the prospect of this detached young man evolving into a true supervillain. For a moment, she swallowed the boiling rage and outrage she harbored toward him, forcing her voice to calm down.

"I think you're wrong," she said.

"How so?" Ethan asked, genuinely curious.

"It's easy to be a villain or a criminal. It takes no thought at all to kill or hurt someone." Her voice shook slightly as she spoke, but she pushed on. "But us... we deal with serial killers, organized crime, villains, and psychos. There's been a rise in the number of traffickings in Gotham in the past few years, meaning we have a trafficking ring set up in the city. Somehow, we have to find the leaders and take it down and save all those who have been kidnapped."

"You tell me which one is harder now."

Ethan didn't say anything for a long moment, then a slight smile tugged at his lips. He began clapping slowly, the sound echoing in the confined space. "Bravo, detective. You played me."

"Played you?" she echoed, frowning.

"I'm not an idiot. I understand what you're doing. But you're also right. Being a hero does sound more interesting... and in truth, growing up with people like my parents has given me a distaste for people of the same ilk."

He then looked back down at Renee a small grin forming on his face as he leaned against the glass. You're interesting..." Ethan said, leaning forward again, his eyes locking onto hers. "You put down your anger at me for what you perceive to be the greater good. People in your position would struggle to do that."

He thought for a moment, then nodded to himself. "Tomorrow I'll come back. I'll bring you some entertainment and clothing to make your time here less difficult."

Renee shook her head, pressing closer to the glass. "Just release me, Ethan. The police will know I'm missing soon, they'll come looking and things will be a lot worse for you."

"I don't think I have to worry about that," Ethan chuckled softly. He reached into his pocket, pulling out her phone. He dialed a number, then muted the the containment cell on her side while keeping his end open so she could listen without screaming, and switched it to speaker.

"Montoya! I've been calling you for damn hours, city hall has gone to shit, and I've got reports of Creedence's house blowing up. Where are you!"

"Sorry, Bullock," Ethan said, mimicking Renee's voice with eerie perfection, everything was identical. Renee went pale, her mouth falling open in disbelief.

"Creedence's apartment was a bust. Iron Row got there before I could and torched the place."

"Damn! So where are you?! Why haven't you come into the office?"

"Sorry, Bullock, but my Ma is sick, and it's not looking good. I had to leave last night to visit her."

"Damn, Montoya, you can't just leave in the middle of a case."

"I'm sorry, but I have to. Let the commissioner know for me, I'll be back soon, but don't expect me to pick up my phone."

"Montoya, wait, I—"

"Goodbye." Ethan cut the call, then snapped the phone in half with a sharp crack, dropping the pieces to the floor and stamping on them until they were crushed.

"There... now the police won't be expecting you back for a while."

Renee sank back onto her mattress, a shocked expression frozen on her face, her eyes wide and unblinking as the reality settled in.

Ethan stood up, pushing the chair back with a casual shove. He turned and walked out of the basement without another word, Renee remaining silent, her gaze following him until he disappeared up the stairs.

Once he reached the top, he locked the basement door securely behind him and stepped out of the mansion into the cool Gotham evening. As he did, he reflected on what he'd just done; confessing his crimes, hinting at his plans. It was a risk, even if minimal; there was always a chance she could escape, and if she did, things would complicate exponentially.

He knew all that.

But he still did it. He didn't know why, exactly, but there was a strange sense of comfort in speaking so frankly with someone. Renee Montoya had the whole picture of his deeds, and he didn't have to worry about her spilling it—soon enough, her memories would be wiped clean.

He enjoyed it. So he would take the risk.

For now though, he would continue as usual.

(AN: So Ethan has got his new powers and is essentially home free when it comes to the police, and he is now in a relationship with Barbara Gordon, all according to Keikaku. Anyway I hope you enjoyed the chapter, it's going to pick up a bit firm here as iron row still need to be dealt with. Enjoy)