The cold wind of Gotham whipped against my face as I flew fast and low through the night. I didn't look back.
The adrenaline was still coursing through me. My ribs ached, my head was pounding from the psychic backlash, and the words "he saw my memories" were still echoing in my skull. I couldn't explain what happened with Miss Martian. One second she was trying to dig through my mind, and the next, I was drowning in hers.
Her pain. Her childhood. Her fear. All of it.
And for some reason… it felt familiar.
I landed roughly in the alley behind the abandoned warehouse, shouldering open the side door and heading straight for the secure room where I kept my burner tech.
I ripped off the tactical mask and tossed it onto the table. My breath was heavy. My heart wouldn't slow down. I rubbed my face, staring into the cracked mirror hanging on the support beam.
Then the words came out of my mouth like a reflex, smooth and alien all at once:
"
There'd be time to freak out about psychic bleed-through and genetic memory later. Right now, I had something more important—the flash drive. I plugged it into my offline laptop.
The screen flickered, then brightened as file after file began to populate the root folder. Hundreds of documents, encrypted archives, videos, redacted reports. A vault of League data and internal surveillance.
My eyes scanned the headings:
"Viltrumite Contingencies Protocols"
"Project Guardian"
"Dawn, Cain – Profile (Updated)"
"League Mission Archive [TITAN/CONFIDENTIAL]"
"Watch Tower surveillance "
"Holy hell…" I breathed.
I clicked on the first folder.
Viltrumite Contingencies.
Detailed breakdowns of battle strategies. Strength output projections. Files weaknesses Canary Cry has been affective. Certain high pitch frequencies have been seen to cause pain and disrupt ability to fly. Type two hybrids have resistance or possible immunity depending on the abilities Subject Cain Dawn no other none Alias has shown higher resistance to said frequencies but when badly injured is susceptible to the pain like Mark and Nolan Grayson. No none radiation, bacteria, or viruses have been found that can compromise Viltrumite immune system.
Theoretical compound made from their DNA is being looked in order to knock them unconscious.
Power dampeners currently being designed by Wayne Enterprises no none success yet. Research into "Smart Atom" has been unsuccessful. So Smart Atoms are a thing here to. If I remember correctly "Smart Atoms" are the reason Viltrumites could do the superhuman things without a supernatural influence.
I will have to keep an eye out for research about this later something tells me Batman hasn't told the other leaguers yet. If he did superman the atom and flash could definitely help. Then I saw mine.
A subsection: Cain Dawn – Hybrid Type II Classification.
I clicked.
Notes: Displays partial Viltrumite DNA "Still Dormant"
*Possibly due to Metagene suppressing abilities until full maturity.
Confirmed Amazonian genetic influence
Enhanced stamina, strength, speed, reflexes
tactile telekinesis confirmed as metagene abilities
Low-level telepathy potential – Subject unaware of this capability .
Unknown resistance to psychic intrusion (note: Martian Manhunter test inconclusive after Tower incident)
Psychic language and skill imprinting suspected due to recent data
I leaned back. Low-level telepathy? Psychic language and skill imprinting? That must've been why M'gann couldn't get through… and how I could speak Martian. The implications spun in my head like a cyclone. What else was dormant? What else was hidden? I moved to the next file.
Project Guardian.
No name attached.
Just a codename. A mystery.
"Guardian is a strategic response asset intended for deployment against Viltrumite-class threats. Unit is under observation and awaiting psychological and environmental conditioning. Power control is in final phases of stabilization." Project is back by The US government for their public program known to the world as "The Global Defense Agency"
A UN group of heroes that can be controlled unlike the "Justice League" or the "Teen Titans. Going where the officials or "Cecil Stedman" sends them. So Cecil exist in this world to? That is actually a great compared to Amanda Waller I rather deal with him then her. That might also mean Robot and some of the other characters exist here to. Another problem for another day.
The Guardian profile was vague from design. No subject identity. No face. Just a list of abilities:
Flight
High Durability
Super Strength
Super speed
Knowing the government and Cecil this "Guardian" was a weapon disguised as a superhero in waiting. For someone like me and the other Viltrumites. Sounds like they were almost ready to use it. I clenched my fists. Then I found the folder marked ."Watch Tower surveillance" I opened it.
One file.
A video.
My heart nearly stopped.
I pressed play.
Static. Then clarity. Footage from the Command Deck. There was smoke, fire and sparks flying everywhere. Omni-Man, covered in blood surrounded by bodies I couldn't recognize. Atom Smasher had his head crushed.
Then came my parents fighting in sync. Mom in what looked like battle armor using a sword and shield brutal precision. Dad would being in close combat with Omni man its was a back and forth of punches slams and dodges. It looked like Omni mas holding his own against the two. Then static again. When it came back Batman appeared. Holding something.
A glowing object, I couldn't make out the shape. He aimed toward the three of them. A flash of white light and static happened. Then only Omni-Man stood there.
Bruised. Bleeding. Alone. He then went after Batman .Destroyed whatever he was holding and held batman by his neck. The camera shook violently as another figure entered the frame—Superman. He crashed into Omni-Man like a meteor, and the feed went dead. I stared at the black screen.
"What… what the hell did you do, Bruce?"
I sat in silence for a long while.
The frustration boiled under my skin like magma in my veins. My breathing slowed, became quieter, heavier. I could feel my heart pounding—not from the rush, but from the rage. I clenched my jaw, hands gripping the edge of the table until my knuckles popped. "No more games," I muttered. "I'm getting the truth."
I shut the laptop, wiped the files, physically ejected the drive, and packed everything into a lockbox. Then I double-checked the locks on the safe room, sealed the warehouse with a biometric pulse, and changed into my regular clothes. Time to go home.
The streets of Gotham were quieter than usual when I got back to my house. Not that I expected anything less. Batman had ways of clearing space when he didn't want witnesses. I unlocked the door and stepped inside, closing it behind me.
Before I even reached for the lights, I said aloud, voice steady: "This is breaking and entering. So let's cut the trap." The lights came on and there he was. Standing in the middle of my living room. The shadow. The cowl. The cape. The Batman. He didn't move. Didn't blink. Only said: "We need to talk."