Erick Smith sat in the central chair of the control room—the space he had remodeled in recent weeks to eliminate any trace of physical clutter. No desks, no keyboards, no visible cables. Just smooth, polished concrete walls, cool indirect light from the ceiling, and the chair itself: ergonomic, with silent, reinforced polyurethane wheels and tactile controls on the arms that allowed him to move around the room without getting up. A mobile throne in a functional void.
He slowly turned the chair to the exact center and took a deep breath.
"Full report. Activate holographic interface."
The lights dimmed for a moment. Then the room came alive.
Lines of cobalt-blue light streaked through the air. Holographic screens materialized in a semicircle around him—translucent panels floating, displaying maps of Gotham with flashing red dots, feeds from hacked cameras, financial flows from the dark web, ARGUS intercepts. In the center of the semicircle, five larger holographic avatars emerged.
Natasha. Sensei. Doc. Engi. Morgana.
Natasha was the first to speak, as always.
"Report initiated, Erick. Priority one: Slade Wilson. Confirmation via ARGUS communications interception and satellite tracking: the body was extracted from the warehouse by Rick Flag and team. He is alive. Severely damaged — permanent blindness in the left eye, 40% tissue burned on the torso and limbs, overloaded and unstable Mirakuru regeneration. He is in custody at a secret ARGUS level 7 facility, metahuman containment protocol. Prognosis: partial recovery in 6 to 9 months. Future risk: high. The way you defeated him — brutally crippled, publicly humiliated, with clear signs of extreme aggression — served as a definitive warning. Many elite assassins interpreted it as 'not worth the risk'. They don't forget this kind of calculated and merciless display of violence."
Erick swiveled his chair slightly to the left, his eyes fixed on the central hologram.
"Really. But give me the full picture of what happened after the hunt. Everything."
Natasha nodded. The main screen zoomed in on a map of Gotham with layers of criminal territory in vivid colors.
"During those initial four or five days, you and Artemis delivered beating after beating to dozens of thugs, mercenaries, and assassins who accepted the contract—grotesquely crippling them, leaving them alive long enough to spread terror. This already caused the contract's appeal to plummet, with mass withdrawals. The final nail in the coffin was the confrontation with Slade Wilson, the last big name to fall. After that, Black Mask increased the bounty several times, but no one else accepted. The dark web and deep web forums became a unanimous chorus: 'Stay away from him and the archer. They won't stop until they destroy.' The contract acceptance rate against you dropped to 0% in 72 hours. No new groups joined. The remaining independents either gave up or were found dead in alleys—probably other assassins wiping out the competition."
Erick allowed a cold smile.
"Interesting. And what about Black Mask's empire?"
"In accelerated collapse," Natasha continued, the hologram spinning to show red arrows fragmenting Sionis' territory. "Without the backing of elite assassins, his lieutenants began to fracture. Three main factions have emerged in the last 10 days: the 'Cranes' held the eastern port; the 'Iron Fists' took the southern industrial district; and a smaller group, the 'Red Masks,' took the underground casinos in the center. Black Mask still controls the core—Iceberg Lounge and its surroundings—but has lost 65% of his effective territory. Pulverization underway. Silent but inevitable gang warfare."
Erick tilted his head, his fingers drumming on the arm of the chair.
"So Gotham smells of blood."
"Exactly," Natasha confirmed. "And the big players are smelling it. Penguin — Oswald Cobblepot — has expanded his territory by 30% in the last seven days. He's taken over smuggling routes that used to belong to Black Mask, and increased his arms and synthetic drug trafficking. Joker isn't keeping quiet: reports of laughing gas in small, coordinated attacks on the outskirts of the Bowery, testing weaknesses. Two-Face has doubled down on gambling and extortion operations in the East End. Even Mr. Freeze has been seen moving stolen technology to new hideouts. The power vacuum is attracting all the lunatics."
Erick swiveled his chair once more, looking at the holographic map that pulsed like a wounded heart.
"More work for me... and for Batman."
Natasha paused for a millisecond — the digital equivalent of a sigh.
"Indeed. Ever since Batman increased the number of missions outside of Gotham with the Justice League—cosmic crises, interplanetary invasions—he's been appearing less on the streets. Something that was unthinkable years ago. The militiamen, the low-level thugs, the opportunists… they're sniffing out his absence. Gotham is stabilizing thanks to his and Artemis's work—undercover patrols, selective elimination of high-risk threats—but the balance is fragile. When the lunatics smell blood in the water, they come in droves."
Silence fell over the room for a few seconds. The other avatars remained motionless, awaiting orders.
Erick stopped his chair facing the center of the room.
"I'll have to take serious action in the coming days."
The phrase hung in the air, heavy, without a specific recipient. It wasn't a question. It was an observation. The fire elemental pulsed warmly in his chest, as if in agreement.
The silence in the control room lasted only a few seconds after Natasha's last sentence. Erick turned his chair slowly, the soft hum of the wheels echoing in the void, and stopped in front of the ENG avatar.
"Forget about that for now, ENG. Give me the project reports I delivered to you in the last few weeks."
The ENG hologram blinked once, taking control of the main screen. The other panels dimmed, giving way to a stream of technical data: rotating 3D diagrams, bills of materials, energy efficiency curves, simulated test reports. The voice came in deep, with that practical and direct Russian accent that Erick always found comforting amidst so much theory.
"We've made significant progress, Erick. The money coming in from Wayne Enterprises' patents and royalties has given us a boost. Resources are no longer the main bottleneck. We have basic raw materials in stock, high-precision 3D printers running 24/7, and Morgana is coding the rituals we've found and adapting the transmutation procedures. But we still have a chronic problem: rare materials. Even with transmutation, the density doesn't compensate. To extract a minimum amount of synthetic vibranium or experimental adamantium, we need to process tons of scrap metal, common metals, even electronic waste. The yield is low—0.8% on average in the best cases. The work is progressing, but slowly. Compared to what it was before, we are light-years ahead, but it still depends on luck in acquisitions on the black market or interceptions of shipments from LexCorp and Kord Industries."
Erick remained quiet, thoughtful, his fingers resting on the arms of the chair. He processed the words, calculating their impact on his head.
"Do you have anything concrete to show me?"
ENG nodded. The central screen expanded, and a 3D model appeared floating in the air in front of Erick—a colossal, slender structure with aggressive lines and almost organic symmetry.
"The most ambitious project you've delivered. It's structurally complete. The outer hull is intact, the internal compartments are sealed, and the simulated life support systems are 100% accurate. The only remaining challenge is a power source. Without it, this is just a pretty shell."
As ENG spoke, the hologram of the ship—because it was clearly a ship, of immense proportions, even at the reduced scale of the model—began to illuminate specific parts. Light blue sections pulsed: reinforced hull, theoretical energy shields, modular weapons bays, quantum navigation systems. Other parts remained dark red: empty central reactor, unpowered main thrusters, unpowered plasma containment core.
"In theory, it flies. In practice, without a source that delivers sustained terawatts, it won't get off the ground. We've seen our projects fail in theory before—remember the plasma drone? It seemed perfect in theory until the first real test melted everything. This one is the same story: promising, but hungry."
Erick watched the model rotate slowly, his eyes fixed on the red areas.
"Great. And what else do you have?"
The screen flickered again. The model of the spacecraft shrank to the corner, and another design took center stage: a full exoskeleton, angular silhouette, overlapping plates, exposed joints. It wasn't sleek like a hero's suit; it was military, brutal, designed for total war.
"Exoskeleton suit for amplifying strength and speed. In progress. The biggest bottleneck, again: power source. I managed to get it working in theory with a compact plasma cell, but the duration is ridiculous—minutes at most. Unsuitable for prolonged combat. But the rest is solid."
ENG highlighted parts of the model. Blue plates: E10 alloy armor transmuted and refined. "Extreme resistance. In theory, it withstands impacts that we don't even know how to quantify yet — high-speed projectiles, nearby explosions, even high temperatures. The metal is dense, almost indestructible."
Joints and articulations in red: "Here's the problem. To maximize durability and brute strength, we sacrificed flexibility. The suit is too rigid. Your fighting style depends on mobility—parkour, redirections, quick strikes. With this, you become a tank. Incredibly strong, but slow in maneuvers. Critical weakness."
Erick tilted his head, examining the rotating model.
"Do we have any solution to fix this?"
ENG virtually shrugged.
"I haven't come close yet. I based the concept on that project you described—'similar to Iron Man,' you said. I don't know exactly what it is, but I understand the idea: boosted armor, multiplied strength, flight. But without the energy source, flight is impossible. Flight biomechanics? Zero progress. The thrusters are designed, but without power, they're just dead weight."
The hologram highlighted the thrusters on the back and boots — a deep, lifeless red.
Erick remained leaning back in his chair for a few more seconds, absorbing the silence that followed ENG's words. Then, he turned slightly to the right, his eyes fixed on the engineer's avatar.
"ENG, first of all — you mentioned improvements to the home security systems. Have you been able to work on several of them yet?"
ENG nodded once, the hologram flashing in practical confirmation.
"Yes. In addition to the drones and Baymax that we already have operating, I've developed several new protection protocols. Advanced sensors, layered redundancies, automated containment systems, interference fields. The house was already secure; now it will be virtually impenetrable. Everything is ready for immediate implementation."
Erick gave a short, satisfied nod.
"Great. You already have the authorization to implement all of them. Make it happen."
"Understood," ENG replied. "I'll pass the instructions on to the Baymax team to coordinate the installation right away. They'll integrate everything without interruption."
Erick nodded slightly, a sign of approval, and called the next person.
"Doc, how's the work going with the software implementation?"
The main screen flickered, and Doc's hologram took center stage, sharing space with Morgana beside him—two avatars side-by-side in the main projection, as if they were sharing the podium.
Doc adjusted the virtual reality glasses automatically, with analytical and precise voice feedback.
"As I told you three days ago, we're in the testing phase. We got the original government formula—the raw Mirakuru. Over the last three days, we've completely deciphered Slade's genetic code. This allowed us to create a stable copy of the version that worked on him. The fusion with Venom was facilitated by Morgana. The magic kicked in in a way I didn't expect."
Erick raised his hands, a "go ahead" gesture, and the two avatars aligned more closely on the screen.
Morgana spoke first, her voice ethereal and low, like wind passing through ancient runes.
"Indeed. A slight modification to the transmutation ritual allowed for a mixture that modern science alone could not replicate. It's a bridge between the material and the arcane—something impossible without this intervention."
Doc shook his head, almost exasperated.
"Don't even ask me how the ritual works. I haven't the slightest idea. Magic makes absolutely no sense to me. But the results are there."
Erick leaned forward slightly.
"And what was the practical result?"
Doc gestured to a graph that appeared beside him: survival curves, rejection rates, red and green lines going up and down.
"We've already started implementing it in rats. About 50 test subjects so far, plus another 20 in the latest tests. Most die—violent rejection, organ collapse, internal bleeding. But the success rate has risen to 30%. I also tested samples of your DNA and blood. Your chances of survival have increased by 5%."
Erick nodded slowly, processing the number.
"Good. And what else is missing?"
Doc enlarged the graph, highlighting peaks of instability.
"Adjusting the formula. Even though the fusion is working, we need to couple everything in a way that reaches a 99.99% chance of success. The monkeys are already being prepared to receive the serum, but we'll wait a little longer until the rats prove more stable. Rats are quick to work—short life cycle, immediate responses. If we continue at this pace of evolution, around the 1000th rat I can consider applying it to primates. It may seem excellent now, but it's still early. In a month or two, I believe we'll have a stable formula."
He paused, and a new section of the graph appeared—darker, with dominant red lines.
"Regarding the Blockbuster formula—the 'blockbuster' one—that's more complicated. It directly affects the brain, the central nervous system. We're hesitant to work on that now. We're taking it slowly. The priority is to stabilize the Mirakuru-Venom base before adding more variables."
Erick remained silent, watching the slowly rotating graphs. The elemental pulsed warmly in his chest, as if eager for the next step, but he maintained a neutral expression.
"Understood. Continue monitoring. Let me know immediately of any significant jump in test results."
Doc nodded.
"It will be done."
Morgana tilted her head slightly, the runes on her cloak flashing once.
"I'm adjusting the support rituals. If you need more arcane interventions, just call."
Erick leaned back in his chair again, the wheels creaking slightly against the floor.
The room returned to relative silence, screens pulsing with data in the background. The map of Gotham still bled red at the corners, but now the focus was on the numbers—survival rates, unstable formulas, a power source that didn't yet exist, and a mansion that had just become one layer closer to invulnerability.
Erick let the silence linger for another moment, the low hum of the holograms filling the room like a steady pulse. He swiveled his chair a fraction of a second, his eyes turning to the next avatar in the semicircle.
"Sensei, what do you have for me?"
The main screen flickered once more, pixels dancing like ethereal flames before stabilizing. Sensei's hologram took center stage, an imposing and serene figure, virtual katana sheathed, red eyes fixed on Erick like a master evaluating a student.
"The animals' training is beginning. Even though they are just puppies, they are progressing steadily."
As he spoke, the hologram expanded to reveal an immersive 3D image: a vivid simulation of Erick—himself, with familiar features, intense blue eyes, and a confident posture—interacting with primates in a holographic environment that replicated a dense forest, full of hanging vines, murmuring streams, and tall canopies filtering simulated sunlight. Three young chimpanzees leaped around him, climbing onto his shoulders with playful curiosity, while two baby gorillas approached reverently, offering virtual fruit as offerings. The scene slowly rotated, capturing interactions: Erick feeding them, training them in basic commands, protecting them from simulated threats like digital predators.
"We are using your image to forge the bond between you and the primates," Sensei continued, his voice calm and precise, like a well-calculated sword stroke. "They will see you not only as a father figure—provider of food, security, and guidance—but as a god. A supreme entity they must serve at all costs, with unwavering loyalty. The holographic environment reinforces this daily: survival scenarios where your presence is salvation, repetitive rituals of obedience that mold primitive instincts into absolute devotion. They will learn to anticipate your needs, fight for you, even sacrifice themselves if necessary."
Erick watched the simulation, his fingers drumming slowly on the arm of the chair. The idea appealed to him—metahuman allies, enhanced by the super-soldier serum, loyal as extensions of his own will. But time was of the essence; Gotham wouldn't wait.
"How much less? How long do you think it will take?"
Sensei paused for a millisecond, processing internal data like a complex equation. A holographic graph appeared beside him: cognitive progression curves, maturity milestones, blue lines representing real time versus dilated time.
"Based on calculations using biological benchmarks and neural simulations... Chimpanzees and gorillas, as forest animals, age faster than humans in terms of cognitive and social development. A chimpanzee reaches basic sexual and behavioral maturity around 8 to 13 years of age in the wild, with refined social skills at 15. Male silverback gorillas take 10 to 14 years to reach full dominance and strategic intelligence, females slightly less. But here, we focus on mental growth—intelligence, loyalty, tactical training—without altering the physical body, which remains a cub in reality to avoid premature detection or ethical complications."
The graph flickered, highlighting the time dilation: in the holographic world, time passed three times faster — one real day was equivalent to three days of experience for the primates.
"Conservative projection: For chimpanzees, we need about 10 simulated years for full mental maturity—intelligence equivalent to a human teenager, with unwavering loyalty and training in complex commands. For gorillas, 12 simulated years, emphasizing cognitive strength and absolute hierarchy with you at the top. With a 1:3 dilation, this means approximately 3 years and 4 months of real-world experience for chimpanzees, and 4 real-world years for gorillas. But by optimizing with progressive accelerations—intensive sessions of positive reinforcement, combat simulations, and emotional bonding—we can reduce this to 2 initial simulated years of basic imprinting, followed by continuous refinement. Real-time: 8 months for the alpha phase, with weekly updates for you to monitor. They will emerge as devoted warriors, with cub-like bodies but sharp, adult minds."
Erick nodded slowly, the elemental pulse pulsing in agreement with the vision of a personal army growing in the shadows. Eight months—enough time to integrate the super-soldier serum, transforming offspring into loyal meta-human beasts. Gotham demanded more power, and this was a solid step.
"Continue the protocol. Advise if there are any possible accelerations without risk."
Sensei bowed his head in virtual reverence.
"As instructed, master."
The screen flickered back to the semicircle of avatars, the forest simulation dissipating like mist. Erick leaned back, his mind already drawing lines between the projects: reinforced security at the mansion, the supersoldier formula evolving, primates molding themselves into perfect allies. The emotional harem with Artemis was the beginning; this was expansion—absolute power, forged in invisible layers.
But Gotham didn't stop. Neither did he.
Read the chapters in advance: patreon.com/cw/pararaio