Outside the house, Bruce stood on the lawn, gazing into the sky. In the distance, a shadow was streaking rapidly through the clouds, heading straight toward him.
He rolled his neck, feeling somewhat annoyed—ambushes like this were never his style.
But there wasn't enough time to make proper preparations or set up a tactical plan. Worst case? He'd just go Super Saiyan.
The figure finally descended, and Bruce raised an eyebrow in surprise.
He had expected it to be Homelander, Vought's golden boy. After all, he was the only one among the Seven who could fly—and had a very complicated relationship with Becca Butcher and her son.
But instead, it was a woman.
She had a wild, uneven haircut and wore a leather jacket. Her eyes scanned Batman with curiosity and mockery.
"Listen up, freak—whoever sent you here, just tell me now. And I'll make your death quick and painless."
"How about this," Bruce replied calmly, "You answer a few of my questions, and maybe I'll answer yours. For starters… What's your code name? And what's your relationship to the woman and child inside the house?"
This woman wasn't in any of the Vought databases he'd been reviewing, so he needed to collect intel. As he spoke, a covert camera embedded in his gauntlet had already snapped a photo of her face and was uploading it to his database for AI analysis.
But before the system could return a result, the woman rolled her eyes and charged.
Without warning, she lunged forward and slammed a fist straight at Bruce's chest.
"Who the hell do you think you are?! You don't get to make deals with me!"
It was a brutal punch—enough to shatter solid rock. Bruce dodged with a quick sidestep and countered with a clean hook to her face.
Pow!
She stumbled back two steps, a flicker of shock crossing her face. She licked the corner of her mouth. She was injured.
"Well well, you're an interesting freak. Looks like you can take a few hits—good, then I won't have to worry about accidentally smashing your skull in."
Bruce shook his head, taunting, "I hope you're as strong as you think you are."
Their eyes locked—then both darted forward, clashing in a brutal close-range melee.
Ever since gaining Saiyan blood, Bruce had evolved far beyond the limits of an ordinary human. Even without tapping into his Super Saiyan state, his raw physical stats and durability were enough that even Clark would sometimes spar with him… albeit with Clark holding back.
After a few sessions, Bruce had stopped asking. Lately, he'd been training more with Diana.
Back to the present—this mysterious woman's physical strength was formidable, maybe even a notch above Bruce's.
But what she had in raw power, Bruce countered with master-level combat technique. He narrowed the gap—and then some. One spinning roundhouse sent her flying several meters.
"That's enough. Die already, you bat-freak!"
With a furious roar, lightning erupted around the woman. Bolts snapped through the air like viper whips, slamming into Bruce before he could react. His body convulsed under the shock, muscles twitching uncontrollably.
She dashed through the lightning and launched a vicious side-kick at his head, face twisted in rage. She was going all in—based on their earlier exchanges, she'd estimated his durability. She was sure this would be the blow that caved in his skull.
Crack!
The whip-kick, thrown with all her strength, stopped cold in midair—caught in Bruce's hand.
His eyes were sharp and cold. With a low growl, the ground around him seemed to erupt with energy, his cape whipping wildly behind him.
"Gonna need more volts than that."
He'd endured far worse during those insane electric shock rounds in the quiz games. Compare to that this was child's play.
He tightened his grip on her leg—snap, crackle—then hoisted her limb up toward her ear, forcing her into a painful full split.
She screamed and thrashed, fists flying at his chest—but they might as well have been pillows. Her punches thudded harmlessly against his armor. He didn't budge an inch.
Now that he'd activated Super Saiyan mode, Bruce had more than enough power to overpower her—and it didn't even take much effort.
"Your codename is Stormfront, isn't it?" he murmured, ignoring her string of curses. He leaned in close. "The old-timer Vought buried decades ago?"
"Bastard!" she spat, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of panic.
What was supposed to be a simple job—a cakewalk—had turned into a nightmare. This freak might be on par with Homelander.
And if he was anything like Homelander… the thought made her stomach twist. She half-expected lasers to start frying her from the inside or for her skull to be crushed like a soda can.
But Bruce had no intention of being gentle. To ensure she stayed down, he pounded her until her face was black and blue, her neck swelling like a bruised melon.
Then he pulled out a custom pair of handcuffs from his utility belt—made of a kryptonite-vibranium alloy—and shackled her wrists.
Only then did he drag her back inside.
---
Inside the house, everyone had been anxiously waiting.
Charles had nearly gone outside multiple times, but Peter #1 had kept him calm.
"If Batman can't handle it, we're toast anyway," Peter had said. "No offense, but us joining in won't make a difference."
During the wait, Peter #3 (Holland) had quietly filled Charles in on his mission. Charles had done his best to stay composed, calming Becca and her son, Ryan.
Ryan, after some hesitation, decided to trust his new friends—Peter #1 and Peter #3.
But Becca was still rattled, nerves fraying with every passing second.
Thankfully, Charles was a seasoned telepath and therapist. With a bit of empathy—and a light mental nudge—he finally got her to agree to leave with them.
That's when Batman returned.
He pushed open the door, dragging Stormfront behind him, and said in a low voice:
"We need to move. This woman's not just some random attacker—she's one of Vought's shadow operatives, the kind they use to handle messy jobs in the dark.
Which means they care a lot about what's in this house. And more of them are probably already on the way.
Ms. Butcher, please gather your things. We're leaving. Now."
____
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