Adrian woke to the smell of tea and antiseptic.
His eyes opened slowly, adjusting to dim lighting that seemed designed to be soothing rather than clinical. He was lying on a medical bed in what appeared to be a cave—actual stone formations rose around him, stalactites dripping water into pools that echoed through the vast space. But this was no natural cave. Computer terminals lined the walls, their screens casting blue light across sophisticated equipment that would make most hospitals jealous.
"Good evening, Master Cross. I trust you slept well."
Adrian's head turned toward the voice. An older man in an impeccable suit stood beside the bed, holding a silver tray with tea service. His posture was perfect, his expression pleasantly neutral, but his eyes held the sharpness of someone who'd seen far too much to be surprised by anything.
"Where—" Adrian's voice came out scratchy. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Where am I?"
"The Batcave, sir. Master Wayne's private facility." The man set the tray on a nearby table and poured tea with practiced efficiency. "My name is Alfred Pennyworth. I serve as butler, medic, and occasional voice of reason for the Batman and his associates."
Adrian pushed himself up to sitting, noting that someone had dressed him in clean clothes—simple black pants and a gray shirt. His shredded combat gear was nowhere to be seen. "Master Wayne? As in—"
"Bruce Wayne, yes." Alfred handed him a cup of tea. "Earl Grey. I find it helps with the disorientation of waking in unfamiliar places."
Adrian took the cup automatically, his mind racing. Bruce Wayne was Batman. The billionaire playboy was the Dark Knight. He should probably be more shocked, but after dying and coming back with superpowers, secret identities seemed almost mundane.
"How long was I out?"
"Sixteen hours. You collapsed shortly after the fight with the Talons. Your body was undergoing significant cellular restructuring—adapting, as it were, to the various injuries and stresses you'd accumulated." Alfred's tone was conversational, as if discussing something as ordinary as the weather. "Quite fascinating, really. I've never seen healing quite like yours."
Adrian looked down at his hands. They looked normal now—no silver glow, no obvious signs of the power that had surged through him. But he could feel it there, coiled beneath his skin like a sleeping predator.
"The woman," Adrian said suddenly. "The one the Court was after. Is she—"
"Safe. Master Wayne delivered her to a secure location. Her name is Dr. Sarah Chen, a geneticist who discovered something the Court wanted buried." Alfred gestured to a computer terminal. "Master Wayne has been researching your... situation. He asked that you join him in the analysis laboratory when you woke."
Adrian swung his legs off the bed, pleased to find his body felt strong and responsive. Better than responsive—perfect. Every muscle moved with precision, every joint articulated smoothly. Whatever had happened to him, it had rebuilt him from the ground up.
"Lead the way," he said, setting down the teacup.
The analysis laboratory was deeper in the cave, a space dominated by holographic displays and equipment that looked more at home in a science fiction film than a cave beneath Wayne Manor. Batman stood at the central console, cowl pushed back to reveal Bruce Wayne's stern features. He didn't turn as Adrian and Alfred approached.
"Your blood is fascinating," Bruce said without preamble, gesturing to a holographic display showing cellular structures. "When Alfred drew samples, the cells were in a constant state of flux. Adapting to the needle, the anticoagulants, even the glass of the vial. Within minutes, they'd optimized themselves for survival in each new environment."
Adrian stared at the spinning double helix on the screen. It looked almost normal, except for the occasional flash of silver light that pulsed through the structure.
"What am I?" he asked quietly.
Bruce finally turned to face him. In the light of the Batcave, without the cowl's intimidating presence, he looked tired. Human. "Three weeks ago, Adrian Cross died in a black ops facility in Kaznia. His body was never recovered. The official report says it was destroyed in the facility's self-destruct sequence."
"I remember the explosion," Adrian said. "I remember... dying."
"What you don't remember is what happened after." Bruce pulled up another display, this one showing a cosmic structure that hurt to look at—a wall of pure energy stretching into infinity. "This is the Source Wall. It's the edge of the universe, the barrier between existence and the fundamental energies of creation. Gods fear it. Cosmic entities respect it. And somehow, a fragment of it bonded with you at the moment of your death."
Adrian's silver eyes widened. "How is that possible?"
"I don't know. Neither does anyone I've consulted—and I've consulted beings who claim to be older than Earth itself." Bruce closed the display, his expression troubled. "What I do know is that you're now a conduit for adaptive evolution. Your body can analyze threats and evolve countermeasures in real-time. You can temporarily copy metahuman abilities through exposure. And based on what I observed last night, you're only scratching the surface of what you can do."
"So I'm a weapon."
"No." Bruce's tone was sharp. "You're a man who's been given extraordinary abilities. What you choose to do with them determines whether you're a weapon, a hero, or something else entirely."
Adrian absorbed that, thinking about the ease with which he'd fought the Talons. About the instinct to protect Dr. Chen. About the choice he'd made in that moment of silver light—to live, not just survive.
"The Court of Owls," Adrian said. "They're not going to stop, are they?"
"No. You embarrassed them. Worse, you saved someone they wanted. They'll send more Talons, better equipped and better prepared." Bruce crossed his arms. "You have three options. One: disappear. I can provide you with a new identity and enough money to start over somewhere the Court won't find you. Two: turn yourself over to a government metahuman program. They'll study you, train you, and deploy you as they see fit. Three: stay in Gotham and learn to control your abilities. Let me train you."
"Train me?" Adrian frowned. "You mean become a vigilante?"
"I mean become someone who can protect himself and others. Someone who can make informed choices about how to use power responsibly." Bruce's expression softened slightly. "You saved Dr. Chen's life without hesitation. You stood against trained killers despite having no idea what you were capable of. That tells me something about your character. The question is: what do you want to do with your second chance at life?"
Adrian thought about his team, dead in Kaznia. About the years he'd spent following orders, being a weapon for causes he didn't always understand. About the woman he'd saved and the satisfaction he'd felt in making that choice himself.
"If I stay," he said slowly, "what does the training involve?"
"Combat refinement, tactical analysis, understanding your powers, learning to work with the existing vigilante community." Bruce pulled up a training schedule that made Adrian's military experience look casual. "It won't be easy. I don't train amateurs—I train people who can survive the kind of hell that Gotham throws at us nightly."
"And if the Court comes after me during training?"
Bruce's smile was predatory. "Then we'll teach them why that's a mistake."
Adrian looked around the Batcave—at the trophy cases holding mementos from battles won and lost, at the equipment that represented years of dedication, at Alfred standing quietly nearby with that knowing expression. This could be his life. Not taking orders from distant commanders, but making his own choices. Using his second chance to be something more than a weapon.
"I'll stay," Adrian said. "Train me."
Bruce extended his hand. "Welcome to the Batcave, Adrian Cross. Try not to die again—the resurrection thing only works once."
Adrian shook his hand, feeling calluses that came from years of the same training Bruce was offering. "I'll do my best."
"One more thing," Bruce said, releasing his grip. "Your abilities will attract attention. Not just from enemies, but from the superhero community. The Justice League will want to know about you. Other metahumans will be curious. And..." He paused, something almost like amusement crossing his features. "My associates will definitely want to meet you. Starting tomorrow."
"Associates?"
"Other vigilantes who work with Batman. They're... a colorful group." Alfred actually smiled at that, which Adrian suspected was a significant understatement. "But that's tomorrow's problem. Tonight, we start with the basics. Alfred, prepare the training room. Adrian, change into something you don't mind destroying. We're going to test your limits."
As Adrian followed Alfred toward a changing room, he caught sight of his reflection in one of the computer monitors. Silver eyes stared back, and for the first time since waking in that alley, he felt something other than confusion.
He felt ready.