"Those who stare into chaos too long begin to find comfort in its reflection."
---
The circle closed around him.
Batman's cape spread wide as wings, Damian's sword gleamed, Nightwing's escrima sparked in the dark, Batgirl poised with smoke bombs and Jason bristled with impatience, fingers twitching over triggers.
King stood at the center of the ruined streetlight glow, arms folded. His expression didn't change. Calm. Patient. Like none of this mattered.
"Identify yourself." Batman ordered. His voice was a blade sharpened on silence.
"King." The man said simply.
Batman's jaw tightened. "King what?"
"Just King."
The King Engine rumbled — thump… thump… thump… — rolling across the street like thunder.
Nightwing muttered, "God, that sound…"
Batman ignored it. "You tore apart the sky. You terrified the city. You could be a metahuman. A weapon or a threat. Which one are you?"
King tilted his head. "You mistake presence for violence."
Jason barked a laugh. "Presence? You sound like a damn fortune cookie. You nearly gave the city a heart attack."
Batman stepped forward. "Enough. If you won't answer, you'll prove it another way. Fight."
King's eyes narrowed slightly. "A fight proves nothing."
Batman's stance shifted — a command, not a request. "It proves control."
The Bat-family tensed. Rain hammered harder, as though Gotham itself waited.
Batman struck first. A flash of motion — faster than most men could track. King's hand rose lazily and caught the strike mid-swing. He didn't squeeze. Didn't retaliate. Just stopped it.
Damian leapt in next, blade arcing. Sparks flew as steel met flesh and stopped, trapped in King's grip like a twig. Damian's eyes widened before he pulled free, rolling back to his stance.
Nightwing darted in with fluid acrobatics, his escrima sticks raining blows. King sidestepped, blocked with his forearm, each strike echoing like hitting stone.
Batgirl fired her grapnel, trying to bind him. King simply let the line wrap his torso, then flexed — and the cable snapped like thread.
Jason, fed up, raised his pistols. "I've had enough of this circus act—"
"Jason." Batman's voice cracked like a whip.
King's eyes flicked to Red Hood. "Guns again. Did you learn nothing?" His tone wasn't angry. It was disappointed. And somehow, that cut deeper.
Finally, Batman lunged with full force — cape swirling, fist driving toward King's jaw with surgical precision.
This time, King moved. His uppercut blurred upward, stopping inches from Batman's face. The shockwave alone sent water spraying from the ground, knocking Nightwing and Batgirl back a step. Jason cursed, shielding his eyes. Damian's hair whipped back in the blast.
Batman froze, staring into those scarred, steady eyes. Not a single touch had landed. King hadn't struck once. He had chosen not to.
The King Engine thundered louder, rattling windows for blocks. Gotham held its breath.
"I don't fight to prove myself." King said softly. "Only when it matters."
Batman lowered his fist slowly, cape dripping. His voice was quieter, but no less sharp. "And when will it matter?"
King glanced up at the suffocating clouds above Gotham, as though he could still see the wound he'd torn in the sky. "Soon."
The Bat-family exchanged glances. For once, none of them spoke.
Only Damian's eyes burned with recognition. He had seen restraint before, in assassins trained to kill. But this was different. This wasn't fear. Wasn't hesitation.
It was choice.
Read 5 chapters ahead on P.A.T.R.E.O.N
patreon.com/Danzoslayer517