Colin sipped his drink as he watched Batman and the musclehead clash. Their fists met with bone-cracking force, each blow echoing through the night. The musclehead was no ordinary thug—he actually managed to exchange several moves with Batman. But with superior skill and gear on his side, the Dark Knight soon began to overwhelm him.
Just then, the bald drunk groaned awake. Shaking his head dizzily, he blinked and caught sight of Batman battering his ally. Rage twisted his face. With a wild shout, he lunged forward and clung to one of Batman's arms.
The musclehead seized the chance, grappling Batman's other arm. He knew well enough that the vigilante's raw power outmatched his own; only by restraining him like this could they hope to gain an advantage.
For a moment, Batman was actually pinned.
But then, with a soft hiss, the Batwing drone descended overhead. From its underside fired two sharp, tiny bat-shaped darts. They embedded themselves into the bald man and the musclehead. At first, the two only felt a brief sting of pain—then the darts released a sudden jolt of electricity.
Their bodies convulsed violently, muscles locking as they collapsed in spasms. Batman tore free of their grasp and pulled back to regain the upper hand.
"Struggling that much, huh…" Colin muttered, tilting his bottle lazily as he observed. To him, it almost seemed that Batman's noble crusade wasn't as effortless as people believed.
"Well then… guess it's time I earned some money." He set the bottle down with a faint clink. Sleep still eluded him, so why not go look for a little side job—maybe even stumble onto some amusement along the way.
Rising slowly, Colin stretched, then lifted off into the air. In a flash, he soared over the cityscape until he arrived above another metropolis.
He raised his eyes to the sky. Here, the sun shone bright—it was still daytime. Back where he lived, the night reigned.
Descending gently, he landed before a frantic woman clutching a little girl, no more than three years old. The child lay limp in her arms, her tiny chest rising in shallow, ragged breaths.
Moments earlier, a stray dog had attacked. Though the woman had driven the beast away, her daughter had been savaged, left at death's door. Her heart brimmed with panic, desperate to reach a hospital.
Please, God… don't let anything happen to her. What should I do? Why did this happen?
She blamed herself bitterly—if only she had shut the door properly, the dog would never have entered the yard.
Just then, a young man with black hair appeared before her.
"Even if you take her to the hospital," Colin said calmly, "they won't be able to save her."
The woman's eyes widened. Recognition dawned. This wasn't Superman—it was the other one, the black-haired superhuman who charged money for his miracles. Rumor had it he had even cured cancer.
She fell to her knees, her voice trembling: "Please, save her! As long as you do, I'll give you anything—anything at all."
Colin accepted the child from her arms, murmuring, "I don't even know what I want yet. Maybe money. Maybe something else."
Before the woman could respond, Colin vanished.
She clasped her hands together, praying desperately. "God, please—please save her…"
In his private workshop, Colin laid the girl upon a table. For him, blessed with a superbrain, the surgery was trivial. He had countless methods to restore her health—even erase the traumatic memory of the attack altogether.
Within seconds, the operation was complete. The child stirred, whole and unscarred, fast asleep.
Colin reappeared before the woman and handed her daughter back. Barely a minute had passed.
The mother gaped in disbelief, then clutched her daughter tightly. Tears welled as she saw the girl breathing peacefully. In that moment, she stopped believing in God. For her, Colin had become her only god.
"I'll give you all my money," she babbled feverishly, overcome with devotion. Her admiration for Colin surged into something near worship.
Colin, of course, knew exactly what filled her heart. Her fervent adoration made the corners of his lips curl upward. He rather liked that feeling.
"I'll do anything for you," the woman swore.
Colin tilted his head thoughtfully, stroking his chin. "Then do some good deeds. Things within your power."
The woman froze, staring at his handsome face. Then she nodded firmly, a vow forming silently in her heart: she would dedicate her life to helping others. Surely, he was no mere man—he was an angel descended to earth.
"I want to make this world better," Colin said softly. "Goodbye, madam."
With that, he lifted into the sky, leaving her behind. She gazed after him with blazing devotion.
"You really are a strange one," Clark's voice came from behind him. He stepped forward, regarding Colin with conflicted eyes. "Call you a villain, yet you save lives. Call you a hero, yet you kill without hesitation."
He had seen it all—Colin had once demanded payment for saving people, but just now he had done it freely, even speaking of wanting to better the world. Clark couldn't understand him.
"What's strange about it?" Colin replied coolly. "I do whatever I want. If I feel like charging, I charge. If I don't, I don't. When my mood's good, I save people for free. When it's bad, maybe I kill a few scum to vent. Ordinary people? I won't touch them. Only the irredeemably vile. No moral burden in that."
He looked Clark square in the eye. He wasn't righteous, not like Clark. At best, he was a man with his own twisted sense of morals. Please him, and he rewarded you. Cross him, and you likely died.
"You're free to do whatever you like…" Clark murmured, a hint of envy in his voice. But that was all it was—envy. He would never become someone like Colin.
Colin smirked. "Jealous, aren't you? This world is a playground. You're bound by your conscience. Maybe you should indulge for once. Money, women—anything you want could be yours."
Like a devil, his words tempted Clark toward corruption.
Clark ignored him. "Thank you for the money earlier. It's made life a lot easier for Lois and me."
Colin's smile froze. Remembering how Clark had shamelessly pocketed that cash in the diner, irritation flickered in his chest. Damn it—I was insulting you. You were supposed to storm off, not take the money like some sly hustler!
Clark noticed Colin's twitching expression and found himself oddly satisfied.
But then Colin's grin returned. "If Lois keeps taking photos of me, I'll be charging more. Until I get all my money back—with interest. How much? That depends entirely on my mood."