Batman never took me to the Batcave, if it exists here.
He never even mentioned it.
Every meeting happened in places that were already dead to the city — abandoned warehouses, condemned train yards, shuttered factories written off as unsafe. Locations chosen carefully, rotated constantly, each one swept for surveillance at least three times before he ever allowed me to arrive.
I noticed.
I didn't comment on it.
But I felt it.
The roof groaned softly in the wind. Rusted steel beams cast long shadows across the concrete floor. No power. No cameras. No signals strong enough to linger.
Batman stood near a support column, cape still, cowl tilted slightly downward — listening, calculating.
I descended from the sky and landed lightly, my boots barely stirring the dust.
"You changed the location again," I said.
"Yes."
"No explanation ?"
"No."
I exhaled slowly, irritation flickering behind my eyes.
"You think I'd betray you."
"I think you're compromised," he replied calmly. "Whether you know it or not."
That stung more than I expected.
"I came to you," I said. "I told you everything."
"And that's exactly why I'm careful," he answered. "People who have nothing to hide are often the easiest to exploit."
I clenched my jaw.
—-
The days blurred together.
He hunted patterns — shell companies, medical transports, black-site energy spikes.
I hunted outcomes — fires put out, buildings stabilized, people pulled from rubble.
And then there was Homelander.
Every time I was forced to divert to clean up another so-called "rescue," his plans were delayed.
Homelander arrived loud.
Left louder.
I arrived afterward — when the cameras were gone and the screaming started.
A collapsed overpass.
A hospital wing torn open.
A "saved" city block with six dead and twenty injured.
He watched the footage in silence during one of our meetings.
"He's bait," he said.
"He's a disaster," I replied, my voice tight. "And people are paying for it."
"And you're bleeding time," he said. "Which is exactly what they want."
I slammed my hand into a metal crate. The steel dented inward with a sharp crack.
"You think I don't know that ?" I snapped. "I hear every scream he leaves behind. I feel it."
He didn't flinch.
"You're angry," he said. "That makes you predictable."
I looked away.
"That makes me human."
He never turned his back on me.
Never removed his cowl.
Never shared full intel.
Every file I received was filtered. Partial. Enough to act — never enough to trace his full network.
I noticed that too.
"You don't trust me," I said one night, standing amid broken machinery and moonlight.
"No," he answered without hesitation.
I nodded slowly.
"At least you're honest."
He stepped closer.
"I will trust you when I know what you do when no one is watching."
I met his gaze.
"Then keep watching."
An alert chimed from his gauntlet.
Another incident.
Another city.
Another smiling man in a cape leaving destruction behind him.
I closed my eyes for a second — just long enough for him to register the spike in stress, the flare of power barely held in check.
"You go," he said. "I'll keep digging."
"Can we really fight against the government ?" I asked quietly.
His voice was low.
"We will find them. You don't have time. Between rescues and cleaning up Homelander's mess, you can't search the whole planet. Leave this job to me. I will find them."
I opened my eyes.
"I believe you."
I lifted into the air, disappearing into the night — once again to save people from someone else's idea of heroism.
He remained alone in the warehouse, shadows crawling over his armor.
Somewhere in the darkness, machines powered up.
—-
I floated with my legs crossed, eyes closed, suspended a few meters above the summit of Mount Everest.
The air was thin, cruel, absolute.
Up there, even sound struggled to exist.
I breathed anyway.
Slow.
Measured.
I let my hearing expand.
Not just listening — filtering.
Heartbeats of climbers miles away.
The creak of glaciers shifting like ancient bones.
Jet engines carving lines through the upper atmosphere.
I pushed past all of it.
Whispers in back alleys.
Encrypted calls bouncing between satellites.
Half-spoken secrets buried in gossip, fear, greed.
I searched for the mistake.
A slip.
A careless word.
Anything tied to Project Titan.
Nothing.
Again.
I narrowed the range.
And then… voices I knew.
Laughter.
Familiar. Unguarded.
My hearing settled gently into a nearly empty classroom at U.A. Chairs scattered. Two desks pushed together. The room smelled faintly of cleaning solution and late-night snacks.
They were talking over each other, laughing about something that had gone wrong the night before.
Someone almost got caught sneaking out.
Someone else spilled a drink and blamed gravity.
Someone swore it "wasn't their fault."
I recognized every cadence.
Every pause.
Every breath.
And I felt it — sharp and quiet.
Longing.
Those moments.
Those stupid, normal moments.
I missed them.
I missed complaining about homework instead of governments.
About exams instead of extinction-level threats.
But I couldn't go back.
Not yet.
I couldn't walk into that room knowing what I knew.
Knowing what was coming.
A soft vibration brushed against my leg.
I opened my eyes.
The world snapped back into focus — endless white below, endless blue above.
I reached into my pocket.
One message.
From Nejire.
[ We miss you. ]
That was it.
No questions.
No pressure.
Just truth.
A small, melancholic smile tugged at my lips.
"I miss you too," I whispered — though she couldn't hear it.
The smile faded.
Because another sound cut through everything.
Not subtle.
Not hidden.
Destruction.
Concrete tearing itself apart.
Steel screaming under impossible force.
Glass detonating into rain.
And then a voice.
Too loud.
Too confident.
Too wrong.
From across the ocean, carried on my focus like a knife under the skin:
"Don't worry, people ! Everything's going to be just fine !"
My spine prickled.
Every instinct screamed.
Homelander.
I didn't hesitate.
I leaned forward — and the world vanished.
United States — Minutes Later
The air burned as I decelerated.
Below me, a city bled.
A skyscraper leaned at a sick angle, its lower floors shattered. Cars crushed like toys. Smoke curled through the streets, carrying the coppery smell of blood and ruptured fuel lines.
People ran.
Some screamed.
Some just stared — frozen, waiting for permission to survive.
And at the center of it all…
Homelander hovered a few meters above the street.
Cape spotless.
Hair perfect.
Smile wide.
A news helicopter circled him like a loyal pet.
The villain he came across ended up motionless on the ground, limbs severed by laser, jaw dislocated, barely able to breathe.
He gestured broadly, like calming a crowd at a parade.
"Hey ! Hey ! Everyone relax ! I've got this under control !"
Behind him, a building collapsed.
I landed between him and the civilians.
The impact cracked the asphalt in a spiderweb pattern.
The shockwave knocked over cameras.
Blew out windows.
Forced silence.
He turned slowly.
His smile didn't fade — it sharpened.
"Well I'll be damned," he said. "The exchange student finally decided to show up."
I straightened.
My fists trembled — not with fear.
With restraint.
"You're making things worse," I said.
He laughed lightly, hovering closer.
"Buddy, look around. Without me ? This place would be rubble."
I glanced past him.
At the crushed ambulance.
At the man pinned beneath debris, barely breathing.
At the fire spreading unchecked because everyone was too busy filming him.
"This is rubble," I said quietly.
His eyes flickered.
Just for a second.
"Oh come on," he said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "You can hear them. They love this. They need this."
"I hear everything," I said.
I stepped closer.
"And they're terrified."
His smile finally cracked.
"You think you're better than me ?" he asked. "You think you're different ?"
I looked at him.
Really looked.
"I don't need them to love me," I said.
The wind picked up.
Sirens wailed.
Above us, the helicopter struggled to stay steady.
His jaw tightened.
"Careful," he warned. "You're starting to sound ungrateful."
I floated upward, meeting him at eye level.
"No," I said. "I'm done with you."
For a moment, the city held its breath.
Two figures in the sky.
One chasing applause.
One carrying guilt.
And somewhere far away, in shadows and silence…
Plans adjusted again.
Because this time, I wasn't cleaning up the aftermath.
This time—
I was standing in the way.