A moment later, a young man appeared before the eyes of everyone gathered—his wrists and ankles chained, his feet submerged knee-deep in water, and a high-tech collar strapped tightly around his neck. And yet, despite the grim picture, his eyes still sparkled with sharp wit, and a self-confident grin curved across his lips.
"Did you miss me?" the prisoner asked cheerfully.
"Alex!"
"Are you all right?"
"How are you? Is everything okay?"
Where moments before the Babylon lab had been wrapped in heavy silence, now it erupted into joyful cries.
"Quiet, not all at once," Alex raised his voice, trying to calm the excited women. "I'll answer the most important question... No! I am not all right. I'm chained, I have a collar around my neck—tell me, how can I possibly be okay?"
"Everything's fine with him," Barbara exhaled in relief.
"Yeah, and here I was worrying myself sick," Sasha Bordeaux muttered, wiping fake sweat from her brow.
"Hey!" Alex shouted indignantly. "Are you even listening to me?!"
"Alex, aren't you cold?" asked the eccentric blonde psychologist, tilting her head as she noticed the icy water surrounding his feet.
"Harley, you're the only one who noticed my terrible plight," Alex said dramatically, his voice trembling. Fresh tears welled up in his eyes. "So, I am important to someone after all!"
"Ha-ha! 'Course you are," Harley grinned. "Without you the whole world'd be boring!" She spun once in place, laughing at her own words.
"Well, at least somebody cares." Alex shrugged.
"Did it work?" Bruce's steady voice cut in for the first time since Alex appeared.
"More than." The chained young man lifted his chin as if insulted. "And what—did anyone… doubt me?"
"And where are you now?" Bruce asked.
"Lady Shiva said they dragged me all the way to Nanda Parbat. Judging from the décor? She wasn't lying. But I've already activated the beacon, so you can check for yourselves." Alex narrowed his eyes, targeting Bruce more directly. "By the way—how did the modification go?"
"Successfully," Wayne replied as he clenched his fists.
"And how does it feel?"
"…Not bad."
"Not bad?! That's all you can say?" Alex snapped, looking outraged.
"The serum didn't affect him as much as it did you," Poison Ivy interjected calmly. "He was already at such a physical peak that enhancement hit limits faster. Still… even for Bruce, it took effort."
For many, Ivy's casual way of speaking to Wayne—and the fact she apparently knew his secret identity—might have seemed shocking. In truth, it had a simple explanation. After Alex Reath became a super soldier, Bruce Wayne had been next in line. To guarantee the serum formula suited him, the Dark Knight's blood was used in development—just as with Alex.
What no one expected was that Pamela Isley would recognize that DNA immediately. Years earlier she had studied Batman's blood when she tried, and failed, to create a pheromone that might enslave him. That data, fused into her brilliant mind, allowed her to connect the dots instantly. There was no point hiding it afterward—admission was all that remained.
Dr. Kavita Rao and Harley Quinn had nearly collapsed in shock at the revelation—billionaire Bruce Wayne was Gotham's vigilante all along! Harley even threatened to smack him with a bat, but after a moment's theatrics she burst into laughter. The truth was surprisingly accepted. Both former villains reacted to the revelation with casual amusement, which surprised Alex and Bruce more than it unsettled them. By now, there was not a single person present in Babylon who didn't know the Dark Knight's identity.
"I still don't understand one thing," Tatsu Yamashiro cut in, her voice sharp. "Why go to such extreme lengths? This is far beyond risky."
"The art of victory is convincing your enemy he's doing everything right," Alex grinned, answering Katana's concern. Then he frowned, gaze sliding sideways. "Wait—hold on, something's happening here. Give me a minute."
Before anyone could react, the hologram of the prisoner blinked out, leaving the entire table in Babylon seized by sudden, nervous silence. A wave of anxiety settled heavily over their chests.
The instant I felt someone approaching my cell, I slipped my glasses back into Inventory and slumped, head hanging as if in utter exhaustion.
The latch clicked, and a small slot at face-level opened in the iron door. The warden, a low-ranking League member tasked with monitoring me, peered inside. Apparently, he'd heard something suspicious earlier and came to check.
"Woe is me, a sinner! Woe to this cursed murderer!" I muttered in ragged despair, voice low and broken. "What madness brought me here? What was I thinking? My principles—my useless, naïve principles. I clung to them when I should have been ruthless. And what did I win for it? Nothing but this misery! Oh… woe is me!"
Convinced I'd succumbed to cold-driven delirium, the guard muttered dismissively and slid the slot shut. Satisfied, he shuffled away, leaving me once more in blessed solitude.
I immediately summoned back the glasses, slipping them on. "Apologies, small force majeure. Now… where were we? Oh right—Bruce." My grin returned as I turned focus to my 'trainer.' "How are things with Damien?"
"With difficulty," said Bruce, voice tight. "He took Alfred hostage. Ordered me not to move. If it weren't for Nightwing intervening… the outcome might have been worse. Now Dick's staying with him—making certain my son doesn't start another crisis while I'm away."
"As expected," I nodded solemnly. "Don't worry—you still have time. We'll straighten him out together. And ladies—" My grin widened proudly. "How did you fare?"
Silver St. Cloud lifted her chin. "I'm fine. Tatsu helped me when they came." She turned, offering grateful eyes to her Japanese ally.
"And Sasha saved me," Victoria Vale added with heartfelt sincerity. Then, smirking, she continued, "Oh, and she didn't just save me. Because of that League assassin, one of my most annoying colleagues at the Gazette practically wet his pants just watching. I doubt he'll bother me ever again!" She giggled.
"Wait—there was a pest harassing you, and you never told me?" My voice iced sharp, eyes narrowing.
"It wasn't important," Vicki teased, brushing her red hair back. "Not my fault I'm too beautiful, attracting secret admirers like moths to a flame."
"We'll talk about this later…" I muttered darkly.
"For your information," Barbara suddenly interjected, "they attacked me too. Clearly, they didn't recognize me. They actually tried to abduct me." Her lips quirked with satisfaction. "Of course, I made sure they understood how outrageous their mistake was."
"Haha! I wouldn't want to be in their shoes," I laughed, imagining the wreckage Batgirl must have left behind.
"Well then," I straightened. "Ladies, gentlemen—it's time for Part Two. Bruce, ETA to Nanda Parbat?"
"Thirty minutes," Wayne replied, pulling on his shirt.
"You've got twenty. Push that Bat-plane harder. The sooner you arrive, the better." My grin sharpened. "I'll finish my personal business in the meantime. Don't take too long—otherwise you'll miss the fun."
"This move of yours…" Bruce studied the hologram's face intently. "Ra's al Ghul will never let it go unanswered."
"I believe everyone pays for what they do," I told him coldly. "At first, I only wanted to bother him slightly. But after the shackles… and this collar?" My face hardened. "He rewrote the stakes. And now I will take everything. With interest. That is the debt."
I shut off the glasses.
For a moment I stood still, thinking. I am no mad villain. No tyrant lusting blindly for suffering. But even the most forgiving heart has limits—and they crossed mine. They chained me. Collared me. Like a beast.
How dare they.
In the blink of an eye, the high-tech suppressor vanished from my neck, dropping instantly into the abyss of my inventory. With a sidelong glance, I touched the shackles on my wrists; chain and manacles shimmered, then dissolved into nothing. My ankles followed suit in the same effortless motion.
To think these fools believed they could restrain me with steel? Ignorance of the highest order. I can dismiss any object I touch, with any part of my body. Not even their so-called "restraints" apply.
I stretched my neck, savoring the weightlessness where once the collar clamped. Then, calmly, I approached the door.
Beyond, I couldn't see—but I could feel. Intuition pricked sharp. A guard stood to the right. Strong, clearly well-trained to guard someone "dangerous."
"Enough wasting time," I whispered to no one. "Let's begin."
I placed a hand upon the iron door—gone in an instant, sliding cleanly into Inventory. My overseer had no chance to comprehend before shock overtook him.
In the flash of that instant, I was beside him. My left hand pinned his shoulders. My right fist hammered his stomach—controlled, but fierce.
The impact buckled his legs, sending him to the ground. Still, impressively, the assassin tried to rise, gasping, refusing defeat.
"Where do you think you're going?" I quipped, cocking my head. "It's Saturday. Time to sleep in."
One quick strike later and he was unconscious, sent straight into Morpheus' kingdom. My earlier blow had been restrained—too restrained. If I'd unleashed my full strength, the man would have been dead instantly, no different from any untrained civilian. But these were League men: hardened, seasoned, tempered by brutal training.
That makes it fair. That makes it… fun.
I stared down at the unconscious body spread before me. "Hmm… What should I do with this poor soul? Can't just leave him sprawled here…"
Then an idea struck me—dark, mischievous. My grin widened.
Yes. I thought of something.
.
.
.
.
Thank you all for reading, please vote with power stones.
You all can read extra 40 chapters and support me on [email protected]/annihilator009.