The building we're planning to move into is still under construction, but it's already in the final stage, which is good news. Approaching the correct door, I didn't bother to knock; I simply entered.
"Mr. Alex, I didn't expect you today," Romanov said, tearing herself away from the computer screen.
"I'm taking the day off," I replied, settling into the chair across from her. "I only came by to see you."
"Is there something specific you wanted to discuss?" she asked, her voice lilting with curiosity.
"Not so much to discuss. More to simply talk..." I paused, searching her face for a hint of her thoughts. "Natalia, do you consider yourself a good person?" I asked her in Russian.
She hesitated, rolling the question over in her mind. "Hmm, that's a difficult question. I suppose I've committed more bad acts than good ones, so I'm probably more of a bad person," Black Widow admitted, her sincerity evident.
"And, say, if you happened to witness a kidnapping, would you intervene?"
"Probably not," she replied bluntly, "I'm just a regular, defenseless woman. I wouldn't do something so reckless for a stranger. Besides, I might end up kidnapped myself, or, worse, killed just for being a witness. It sounds cruel, but it's true."
"I agree. Many people boast that they'd intervene in such a situation—rushing to help, acting heroically. But those are just words. In reality, most people do what you described; self-preservation comes first. There's nothing wrong with it. Each person has only one life, and it must be protected. Especially living in Gotham, where one reckless move can easily become a catastrophe."
"Mister Alex, I may sound rude, but I don't understand you at all. You're a strange man," She switched to English, her eyes never leaving me.
"But you'll never be bored with me," I grinned, reclining with my elbows on the back of the chair and my hands behind my head.
"That's true," she murmured quietly, almost as if she were talking to herself.
"So, what is the point of this conversation? What do you actually want from me?"
"I just wanted to be sure of something, and to warn you. If you ever witness a kidnapping, remember our talk today. Do exactly as you answered me. That will be the best choice."
"I still don't understand you," Natasha sighed, rubbing her temples.
"Don't worry about it. Chalk this up as one more nonsensical thing your eccentric boss says. Anyway, it's December—is last month's financial report ready?"
"Almost," she replied, shuffling through the paperwork. "Give me a couple more days, and I'll have everything finished."
"Good... In that case, I'll let you get back to work," I said, rising from the chair and moving toward the door. At the exit, I turned and looked back at the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. "I know my actions often seem illogical, even pointless… But when the right moment comes, you'll understand their meaning. I hope you'll honor my request then," I said, and left her office, the door closing with a resonant thud.
Outside, the cold was biting, but it didn't bother me at all. In fact, I rather enjoyed it. It must be an effect of the super soldier serum—the blows of life, even the weather, seemed less severe. I could still feel the chill, but it no longer frightened me. If Steve Rogers survived frozen in the Arctic for seventy years, this cold was nothing.
"Where to now?" my companion asked quietly.
"Let's just walk. It's a beautiful day," I breathed in the frosty air deeply. The last few days had drained my energy; I deserved some rest.
"As I recall, your endurance improved a lot after the serum…" Sasha commented.
"There is such a thing as moral fatigue. Sometimes you need to clear your mind—or risk falling apart," I replied, handing her a cup of hot coffee.
She gratefully accepted the cup, savoring a tiny sip. "Your gear is handy at the right time," Bordeaux said, smiling contentedly as the warmth spread through her.
"But then again, as far as I recall, you can't go insane, so what moral fatigue are we even talking about?"
"Ahem, just drink your coffee. Otherwise it'll get cold," I suggested, keeping the conversation light.
We left the car parked nearby and chose to wander Gotham's serene streets. During the day, this city awakened genuine delight and admiration. Only with nightfall did it shift: serenity was replaced by an ominous atmosphere—caution and anxiety creeping in. Still, Gotham's beauty persisted. Despite what anyone claimed, Gotham was among America's most stunning cities; not even its status as Earth's most crime-ridden place could tarnish that fact.
"Do you think they'll attack today?" Bordeaux questioned, trying to warm her hands.
"Probably. It's the perfect day for it, and my intuition is very clear," I replied, taking her cold hands and rubbing her frozen fingers gently.
"Your hands are very warm," Sasha noted approvingly.
"That's the super soldier blood, plus I'm just a pretty hot guy," I joked, breathing on her fingers.
"Why are we wandering the streets instead of preparing for an attack?"
"I've done everything I could already. Now, all that's left is to follow the plan."
"How confident are you in this plan?"
I pondered for a moment, thinking it over. "Eighty percent... no, probably seventy."
"Seventy? Alex, your life is at stake! How did I ever agree to this crazy adventure?" she exclaimed in exasperation.
"Do you think they know that you know they're coming?"
"I think they know that I know, and that I'm waiting for them. They've been watching us ever since we left the company. You felt it too, didn't you?"
Bordeaux gave a silent nod, confirming my suspicion.
"It's getting late—eight o'clock. I imagine Damien is sipping tea brewed by Alfred at the mansion. Want to visit him and see Bruce Wayne's son? I bet he's just as arrogant as his dad was at that age." I released Alexandra's hands, and she quickly tucked them into her jacket.
We headed back to the car. Honestly, I expected the League of Assassins to target me after midnight, possibly around one or two in the morning. I hadn't anticipated trouble so soon. We were barely halfway back when ten masked figures surrounded us. Their suits displayed an embroidered ribbon on the sleeves—Lady Shiva's personal guard. Where was Lady Shiva herself? Just as I thought of her, she arrived.
"Alex Reath," Sandra Wu-San greeted formally, "I came to hear your answer. Are you ready to join the League of Shadows, or should I make your life hell?"
"Well, I'm not quite ready for a serious commitment yet… but thanks for the offer."
"Still trying to joke? I want your answer," Shiva demanded sternly as her henchmen brandished their blades. I felt the imminent danger looming over me—over Alexandra, the person I cared about most.
"I..."
........
The evening was thick with tension. A silent wind swept through Gotham's alleys, mixing with the breath of fate. I faced Lady Shiva and her elite, with little hope for easy escape. My mind raced through possibilities, strategies hard-learned in desperation. Bordeaux's eyes met mine—steadfast, yet startled by the abrupt threat. Thoughts returned to our earlier conversation: ordinary people rarely leap into danger. Heroes are built not in moments, but through the sum of their choices.
Lady Shiva's gaze lingered. I weighed my answer carefully. Accepting her proposal meant a pact with darkness—denying myself all freedom, committing to the League. Refusal promised relentless pursuit, and a life painted with violence. Still, the threat to Bordeaux awoke something furious and unyielding within me.
With a steady breath, I replied, "Sandra, you've asked for my allegiance. But you already know I value freedom above all. I have no intention of joining the League—not now, not ever."
Her mask of indifference finally cracked. She gave a subtle, almost imperceptible nod. "Then prepare yourself, Alex Reath" she said ominously, "Tonight, your real test begins."
The League's agents advanced. I moved instinctively, shielding Alexandra. The cold wind seemed to fade as adrenaline surged through my veins. I had trained hard with the serum's power, but the risk was still real. Swords flashed; bodies shifted, aligned. Lady Shiva watched, her eyes icy and calculating.
I remembered the advice I'd given Natasha: in the face of overwhelming danger, it's wisest to protect your own life—however much heroism may call. But this wasn't an ordinary moment. The fate of my companion, Bordeaux, depended on me. I readied myself for battle.
The confrontation unfolded brutally. Gotham's darkness bore witness—it was less a fight than a desperate struggle to survive. Even at seventy percent confidence, sometimes that's all you have. My movements were swift; their blades found nothing but air as I countered. The League fought well, but not well enough to break me. The super soldier serum, the lessons of a lifetime, the stubborn hope for survival—all came together.
As we forced the League to retreat—even Lady Shiva admitted the contest was not yet resolved—Bordeaux and I pressed onward through the night, breathing relief. Tomorrow, plans would need revision. But for now, Gotham's streets returned to their cold serenity, indifferent to the clash that had just transpired.
I silently hoped Natasha never had to face the test I had. In Gotham, survival often requires walking away from a fight, not toward it. But for those we love, the equation changes. In that moment, whether one is a 'good person' or 'bad,' all that matters is the choice made in darkness.
I headed back into the shadowed city, ready for whatever Gotham chose to throw my way. Whatever anyone says, this city is beautiful—even on a bitterly cold night.
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