The rain came down in sheets over Gotham, hissing off the broken pavement like steam off a warpath. A lone figure stormed through the empty streets—no hesitation, no stealth, just unrelenting rage in every step. His soaked hood barely covered his eyes, glowing faintly in the darkness. His breath came out in heavy, uneven huffs as he stopped in front of a rusted, long-abandoned warehouse.

Without a word, he clenched his fists, then slammed one into the corroded metal door, ripping it clean off the hinges with an unnatural strength. It screeched, bent, then crashed to the ground as he stepped into the shadows within.

Inside, the space echoed—drip, drip, drip from the cracks in the ceiling mixing with the sound of heavy breathing.

Then came the voice.

But not from anyone else.

"Of course I'm fucking angry!" he snapped, his voice cracked and layered with distortion, as if something else was talking through him. "I want to fucking kill him!"

Silence.

His head jerked to the side, eyes wide, like he was listening. Then his face twisted in frustration.

"He's not here..." he muttered before screaming and slamming both fists into a nearby stack of crates, shattering them into splinters. His hands began to morph, the alien tech rippling through him—fingers stretching, bending, twisting into serrated plasma-coated blades.

He went ballistic.

Tearing through everything—walls, pipes, metal scaffolding, whatever dared exist in the same room as him. The distorted warbling grew louder and louder in his head, drowning out reason, pushing him further into chaos.

Then, silence.

He stood in the center of the wreckage, chest heaving. Rain still echoed from outside as he reached into his tattered jacket and pulled out a small, nearly ruined photo—a blurry snapshot of Red X.

His eyes narrowed. Jaw clenched.

"...I'm gonna make him pay," he whispered, voice barely human anymore.

He turned to leave, walking into the open storm once more. But before he left completely, he looked back at the ruins of the warehouse—his destruction not enough to silence the noise.

Not yet.

Floating into the air, he raised a glowing arm above his head as a plasma charge built up. With a growl, he unleashed a massive beam of energy straight down. The warehouse lit up like a sun before collapsing in a fiery explosion behind him.

As he vanished into the storm clouds, the only thing left behind was scorched earth, smoke...
...and the haunting sound of distorted warbling echoing into the night.

. . .

. . .

Y/N's Pov.

There's something about silence that's never really... silent.

I stood in front of my team, arms crossed, going over the plan in my head for the tenth time when it hit me—a sharp tingle, crawling up the back of my neck like a phantom. I shivered, subtle, but enough for the others to notice.

Rose raised an eyebrow.
"You good?"
"Yeah. Yeah, just—cold draft or something," I muttered.

Lie. That wasn't just a draft. That was my gut screaming something was off.

Still, I shook it off and got back to business.

"Alright, listen up," I called out, shifting my gaze to the rest of the crew. "Got a lead. Courtesy of our favorite two-faced plug."

Harvey Dent.

Bastard never calls unless it's important... or suicidal.

"He says there's foreign tech—League-grade stuff—being kept in an underground vault. Somewhere just beneath the city. Big haul if it's real. Game-changing, if we pull it off."

I could already feel the shift in the room. Eyes lit up. Everyone was hungry. Still licking our wounds from the last throwdown with the Titans, but ready to bite back.

"Of course," I added, "this is Harvey we're talking about. So odds are this could also be a complete setup, or—" I shrugged, "—a trap."

No one flinched.

Boredom had rotted our patience. We needed something—anything—to hit back with. This was recon, not a full-frontal assault. Test the waters, scope the place, maybe get lucky.

I pulled up the blueprint.

"Vault's buried beneath a labyrinth of tunnels. West side's narrower, more unstable. Terra, Blackfire—you two take that route. Should be your speed."

Terra cracked her knuckles, grinning. Blackfire just smirked.

"South tunnel's cleaner but more heavily surveilled. I'll take it with Rose."

Rose gave me a simple nod. No questions. No hesitation. That's why I trust her.

"Jinx, you're our eyes and ears. Disable what you can, alert us if things go sideways."

"Please, I live to make security systems cry," she replied, already twirling glowing glyphs between her fingers.

The rest understood. Nods all around before everyone scattered to prep.

I stayed behind.

Checking gear. Double checking comms. Triple checking my gut instinct that this was going to spiral into hell.

That's when my phone buzzed.

Harvey. Again.

I picked up.

The sound of sirens bled into the background—distant, but urgent.

"Y/N," he said, no usual smugness in his voice. "Listen to me. Be careful tonight."

I didn't say anything.

He continued. "Someone torched our old hideout. And they knew where to find it."

That stopped me.

I tensed.

"Warehouse is ashes now," Harvey said, almost like he was proud. "Can't lie—I'm kinda impressed. But mostly? I'm worried."

"For me?" I asked flatly.

"For you," he replied. "You've officially got a nemesis now. One that isn't playing around. Someone with a grudge and a death wish. And this guy... Y/N, he's not like the Titans. He's not here to stop you."

Harvey paused.

"He's here to ruin you."

Click.

The line went dead.

I stood there for a long second. Phone still in my hand. Sirens still ringing in my ears.

I knew that chill earlier meant something.

Now the question was...

Who the hell was coming for me?

. . .

Click. Strap. Buckle.

Armor on, blades secured, comms synced. Just one last thing left before this recon run kicked off—check on Rose.

I headed down the corridor, boots light on the metal floor, knuckles dragging along the wall absentmindedly. Her door was slightly cracked open. I didn't think much of it.

Big mistake.

"Hey, Rose, you ready or—?"
I pushed the door open... and instantly regretted it.

She stood with her back to me. Topless.

Smooth, pale skin marked with faint scars down her shoulders. Hair tied up lazily. Just about to throw on a tank top.

I froze.

"Oh—shit, sorry!" I spun around quickly, facing the hallway. "Didn't mean to barge in—uh—I'll just—"

Behind me, Rose let out a laugh.

"Relax, prude," she said through a chuckle. "You've seen Blackfire naked, remember? No need to pretend you're some kind of saint now."

I blinked. Turned halfway around, brow raised.
"...How do you know about—?"

She pulled the tank top over her head and smirked, stepping closer. Real smug.

"Get better soundproofing next time, lover boy."

My face lit up like a stop sign.

"I—I—you were eavesdropping?!"

Rose just giggled, pulling on her gloves. "Nah. Just me. I think." She winked. "You're lucky the rest of the crew sleeps like corpses."

Great. Add embarrassment to the mission checklist.

She popped open her closet and grabbed a duffle bag full of gear—blades, rifles, twin pistols. Custom stuff, too. Real expensive taste.

I watched her for a second. Then asked the question I'd been holding onto for a while now.

"...What's it like?" I said, voice a little lower. "Being the daughter of him?"

Rose paused.

Her back was still to me. She slowly turned, a pistol in hand—one she raised and aimed straight between my eyes.

Didn't flinch. Not even a blink.

"You left the safety on," I said flatly.

She stared for a moment before rolling her eyes and lowering it. "Tch. I know."

There was a pause. She stared at the floor for a second. Shoulders eased. She finally answered.

"It's... exhausting. Everyone expects me to be him. Cold. Precise. Unstoppable."
She shrugged. "Sometimes I think if I get a scar... a big one... maybe it'll help me feel like I earned something on my own. Something that's mine. Not just another stroke in Daddy's kill count."

I leaned on the wall, arms crossed. I knew that feeling all too well.

"Trust me, I get it," I said quietly. "I used to be Robin. The sidekick. Always trying to prove myself to Batman. Always trying to be seen. Be... enough."

She looked at me then. For real.

There was something in her eyes. A softness. Not pity—no, Rose didn't do pity. It was understanding.

"...Guess that's why we work so well together," she said, cracking a faint smile. "We're both just trying to be something more than what people expect."

"Yeah," I said. "Something more than legacy."

For a second, neither of us said anything.

It was weird—how quiet it got.

Not the awkward kind.

The heavy kind.

Like we both knew this moment might not come again.

. . .

Once everyone was geared up and ready, we made our way down to the landing strip of the airship. The usual pre-mission tension hung in the air—silent glances, the soft shuffle of boots, the distant hum of Gotham's storm clouds rolling in.

Blackfire groaned loud enough to echo.
"Let me guess. Terra and I are carrying everyone to the drop zone again?"

I didn't respond. Something off to the side caught my eye—a shimmer in the shadows near one of the hangars. Curious, I peeled off from the group and walked over.

There it was.

Tucked away like some secret toy waiting for its big debut.

A sleek black stealth jet, the design almost identical to the Batwing—but newer. Smoother. Fully modded. Just sitting there under a tarp with... a giant pink ribbon tied on top?

"What the hell..." I pulled the cloak off and blinked.

And right there, taped to the side with a glittery pink sticky note, were the words:

"Your New Invisible Ride! ❤️ —From Joker, With Love."

I groaned. Loudly.

Crumpling the note, I turned back to the others. "Get in. Now."

I fired my grappling gun and zipped up to the cockpit, landing with a soft clank. The hatch slid open smoothly as I punched in a few quick overrides. Everyone followed—Blackfire floated up lazily, Terra launched herself with a platform of stone, Rose leapt up with a perfect parkour boost, and Jinx... teleported, because of course she did.

Blackfire whistled as she dropped into the co-pilot seat. "You even know how to fly one of these, or are we about to crash into Metropolis at Mach 2?"

I smirked and flipped a few switches with ease, fingers moving on instinct. The jet hummed to life.

Jinx chimed in from the back with a sly grin.
"You were saying?"

Blackfire pouted and kicked her boots up on the dashboard, arms crossed. I just chuckled.

"Please. This thing's basically on easy mode. The Batwing was way harder to fly. This? Cakewalk."

With a smooth push of the throttle, the stealth jet lifted off the hangar floor. I flicked the last switch—cloaking system online. We shimmered out of view as the hangar doors peeled open.

The wind screamed as we shot forward into the stormy night, slicing through the clouds like a ghost. Below us, the drop zone loomed—dark tunnels lined with aging tech and rusted steel, buried deep beneath Gotham's forgotten sectors.

Time to infiltrate.

And if everything went according to plan?

We'd be out before anyone even knew we were here.

Big if, though.

Because nothing ever goes according to plan.

Time skip.

We landed about a hundred meters from the vault entrance, close enough to get in quick but far enough to keep the jet from being spotted. Not that it mattered—it was still cloaked, completely invisible to the naked eye. Just in case, I placed a location marker in my HUD and synced it with everyone's suits.

Didn't need any of us stumbling around in a storm trying to find a ghost plane.

Thunder cracked in the sky above as we stepped out into the rain. Heavy sheets poured over us, muffling every sound around except for the low rumble of Gotham in the distance. The kind of storm that swallowed light and made you feel like something was watching.

Perfect weather for a recon mission.

We made our way to the tunnel entrance—rusted steel doors half-buried in crumbling concrete and ivy. Before we went in, we all slipped in our earpieces. Jinx gave us the all-clear from the jet, her voice crackling over the comms.

"Alright, team. You're synced. I've got eyes and ears on the whole map. Keep chatter tight and don't die."

With that, we split off as planned.

Blackfire and Terra veered west. Rose and I dropped down into the southern passage. Dark, tight corridors stretched ahead, old sewer tunnels that stank of rust and mold. My HUD flickered up the layout Harvey gave us—sparse, partially corrupted, but better than nothing.

"Keep an eye out," I told Rose.

"Always do," she muttered, already sweeping her gaze along the walls, her boots barely making a sound.

I tapped into the comms. "Quick heads-up... Our old hideout got torched earlier tonight."

That made everyone pause.

Jinx broke the silence first. "Wait, what?"

"Warehouse is gone. Burned to the ground. Harvey called—said someone found it and left a message in flames."

A low whistle came from Blackfire. "Maybe one of those bounty hunters caught wind I was traveling with you lovely people. Though I did make a point to kill all the ones chasing me. Guess someone didn't get the memo."

"Could be one of my dad's old enemies," Rose added casually. "He's pissed off pretty much everyone from here to space. Take your pick."

"Or maybe," I muttered, "we just got our first real nemesis."

That shut them all up.

I sighed and glanced at my map. "Just be careful. Jinx, eyes on all of us, yeah?"

"You got it, boss."

I muted my comms after that and turned to Rose as we ducked beneath a collapsed section of pipe.

"So..." I began, stepping over a puddle that stank of something not worth thinking about. "How're you holding up?"

Rose shrugged, eyes still scanning. "I'm fine. This is just... what we do, right?"

I nodded. "Still. Could use some non-bloody conversation down here."

She smirked. "Fine. You first."

"...I miss real coffee."

That made her snort.

"And I don't mean gas station sludge. I mean actual coffee. Dark roast. With a splash of milk and none of that flavored syrup crap."

Rose grinned. "You are such a civilian sometimes."

"Guilty."

She crawled ahead through the next vent, pulling herself up with practiced ease.

"Alright," she said over her shoulder, "your turn. What's your happy place?"

I paused. "...Jet. Quiet. No one shooting at us. Full tank. Flying through clouds."

"Wow. You're so romantic," she teased.

We both shared a chuckle before the vent narrowed and opened up into a wider grate.

Beneath us—there it was.

The vault.

Rows upon rows of alien tech. Glowing tubes. Artifacts. Weapons that had no business being on Earth, let alone beneath it.

"Damn..." Rose murmured, slipping on her x-ray goggles and zooming in. "That's Apokoliptian metal over there. And... that's Thanagarian. And that looks like—wait, is that a jar of Kryptonite?"

Not just one.

Red. Blue. Green. Gold.

All stored in neatly labeled canisters like someone was building a kill kit for every Justice League member.

"Okay, yeah. We are way out of our league here," I muttered.

"Jinx," I whispered into the comms, "did you get all this?"

"Yep. Every crate, every serial number, every label."

"Good. That's all we needed. Let's—"

Silence.

"Jinx?"

Nothing.

I frowned. "Terra? Blackfire?"

Still nothing.

Rose narrowed her eyes. "Signal block. Or EMP."

I swallowed hard. That feeling from earlier—the chill crawling down my spine—it was back. Heavier this time.

We started backing out, crawling back through the vent as quick as we could. The metal creaked beneath us, every sound louder than it should've been.

And then—

I stopped dead in my tracks.

Rose looked back. "What—?"

"Get down!!"

I lunged forward and tackled her just in time.

BOOM.

The wall beside us exploded inward, debris flying everywhere.

Something crashed through like a missile, landing in the middle of the corridor in a cloud of dust and sparks. Rose and I scrambled up and turned, weapons ready.

And that's when we saw him.

The armor was familiar—but wrong.

It used to be blue.

Now it was slick black, laced with red pulsing veins that looked alive, twitching with every breath.

The claws were longer. The faceplate more angular. And behind that mask... something was staring back.

Not Jaime.

Not the kid we once knew.

This was the Scarab.

In full control.

And it wanted blood.

Rose groaned beside me, still catching her breath after the dive.
"Be honest with me, Red—can two squishy humans with martial arts skills really stand a chance against an angry alien-suit-wearing teenager?"

I got to my feet slowly, blades already humming to life in my hands as I cracked my neck.

I smirked.
"This is probably the closest we're gonna get to fighting Superman."

She gave a short, dry laugh, already loading her sniper as she muttered, "That's not exactly comforting."

Jaime turned to face us fully now, his footsteps thudding heavily with unnatural weight. The armor twisted and pulsed with every movement like it was breathing—alive.

And then—he spoke.

"Remember me?"

The voice was distorted. Layered. A broken symphony of human and something else. Something wrong.

The faceplate hissed back. The armor peeled itself away like wet flesh revealing Jaime's face... or what was left of it.
His eyes were pitch-black, bottomless voids that twitched with hatred. And on his cheek... the fresh X-shaped scar I carved during the Titans ambush.

I exhaled slowly, stepping forward, keeping my blades low, my tone taunting.

"Oh, I remember you. How could I forget the guy who got bodied so hard he needed an alien parasite to fight his battles?"

His lip twitched.

Behind the black void of his eyes, something growled.

The suit hissed, and his arm morphed into a twisted, jagged blade—serrated, pulsing, dripping with some kind of glowing red substance.

And then came the sound. That warbling, whispering chorus—like the Scarab wasn't just in his head anymore, but in ours. Echoing through the tunnels, getting louder, more chaotic.

Rose crouched behind me, rifle humming with power.

"You ready yet?" I muttered.

"Almost. Just keep him talking."

I stepped a little closer, smiling like a lunatic.
"You know, I gotta hand it to you, Jaime... Giving in to the Scarab? That was probably the best thing you could've done. Maybe now you'll actually last more than ten seconds against me."

That hit a nerve.

His face twisted. "I'm going to kill every last one of you!"

The tunnel shook as he screamed, the armor rippling like it was coming apart at the seams with rage.

"I'll tear you limb from limb and carry your head through Gotham like a trophy!"

There it was.

"NOW!" Rose shouted.

Jaime lunged—fast—but we were already moving.

I dove left. Rose rolled right and fired.

BOOM.

The rifle kicked like a cannon, sending a high-powered energy round straight into Jaime's chest

—and it did nothing.

The shot slammed him back a step. The smoke cleared... and the Scarab just absorbed the damage. The armor twisted, sealed, and healed itself in seconds.

"...Son of a bitch," Rose cursed, tossing her now-useless sniper aside.

Jaime grinned, eyes twitching with murderous glee.
"You're gonna need more than that."

She stepped beside me, drawing her sword—her hands steady even though I could feel her heartbeat racing.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" I asked.

"We're about to get our asses kicked?" she replied, raising her blade.

"Exactly."

Jaime's claws clicked together, the tunnels humming with energy.

"I'll take you both on."

I rolled my neck, raised my X-blades, and grinned.

"Bring it."

To be continued. . .