Grey-blue light bled across the water, reflecting off the oil-slick harbor in streaks that looked like bruises. The docks smelled like rust, gunpowder, and fish, surprisingly it was also the scent of territory wrenched away in the dark hours of night.
Naima stood inside the central dock warehouse, Odessa's former command post - her boots crunching glass and shattered wood underfoot. Stillness was dangerous, but it felt like the first breath she'd taken in hours.
Her people moved with a controlled urgency. They dragged Odessa men who'd been knocked unconscious earlier into a line against the far wall. Some were zip-tied, some gagged, some… wouldn't wake up again. Others swept debris into piles, catalogued abandoned weapons, and taped off sections where the roof had been chewed open by explosives or whatever the bats super goons did.
Night's chaos had left its scars everywhere. But the Underpass was alive in the aftermath — working, replacing the loss of the rails with purpose.
Naima tapped her contacts list before selecting a name,
"Marcy. We have the Odessa stronghold now," she said, pacing toward what she would assume would have been the old managers office. "We'll need deliveries as soon as possible. Surveillance gear, food, water — enough to set up a new base of operations."
Marcy's voice crackled over static.
"Copy that. We can run supplies over in a few hours. What about beds, cots, anything for proper sleep?"
"We'll improvise," Neymah replied, glancing around at the cold warehouse floor. "Let me see what's salvageable first. I'll keep you posted."
A pause. Marcy lowered her voice.
"Have you heard from the boss? is he thinking about taking back the rails..?"
Naima's jaw tightened.
"Not yet," she said. "Losing them hurts."
"Huge loss," Marcy agreed. "We sunk a lot of blood and sweat into those tunnels."
Naima nodded to herself, eyes narrowing as she inspected a broken chair.
"But the docks are ours now. No Bat. No sidekicks, At least not yet. It's the best foothold we've got on this side. Boss wants this place locked down and working by sundown."
"You're the right one for that job," Marcy said. "Call if anything shifts."
The transmission cut.
Naima pocketed the phone and breathed deep. The scent of gunfire lingered, but now it mingled with sea wind and a quiet possibility. They were exposed — but they had a prize. Odessa's prize.
She turned sharply to her crew, voice cutting clean and strong through the warehouse:
"Check every corner. Clear every body. Patch anything that leaks. The sun's up — that means we work twice as hard. We're not losing this place. Not again."
A scattered chorus of "Yes ma'am!" answered.
Naima stepped to the shattered dock doors and looked toward the horizon. Cargo cranes stood tall like sleeping giants. Beyond them, Gotham awakened — oblivious to the silent takeover that had just reshaped its criminal map.
Her breath escaped as a small, private victory.
They weren't done yet though,
Now what can their prisoners offer for their lives?
***
Kid Flash woke like someone had dropped him from orbit.
His eyes snapped open to a white ceiling and the sharp sting of medical lights. A throbbing pulse hammered behind his temples. Every breath felt too fast — too hot. He pushed himself upright, fingers trembling.
"…Mount Justice?" he muttered, recognizing the infirmary walls.
The door slid open.
Red Tornado entered silently, Batman right behind him — cape flowing like a shadow that had learned to walk.
Batman didn't waste time. "Kid Flash. What's the last thing you remember?"
Wally rubbed his face, trying to force memories into place. "We were in the rail tunnels. Robin was ahead of me. We were running point and I was kicking ass obviously. And then—"
A flicker of something ugly. Rage. Screaming metal. Robin's eyes — wide.
His breath hitched.
"Then it all… it all twists," he whispered. "I don't— it feels like my head was filled with fire and… I was angry. So angry. I couldn't think."
His heart sped up. He suddenly heard himself snarling — attacking someone — a staff whirling—
He grabbed his head with both hands as the pain surged. "Everything after that is just… blank spots and noise."
Batman stepped closer. "You were found unconscious. Robin was injured."
Wally's head jerked up, horror cutting through the fog.
"I hurt him, didn't I?"
Batman didn't answer immediately — and that was answer enough.
But then, carefully,
"You were not in control."
"We don't know what triggered it."
Red Tornado added, voice steady but laced with concealed concern:
"Biometrics indicated extreme neural overstimulation. Similar to a panic state… but, it happened suddenly and drastically."
Wally's pulse hammered harder. Someone had gotten inside his mind. Someone had turned him into a weapon — against his own team.
His team was probably still out there. Without him.
Batman held his gaze. Not cold. Determined.
"We will find how this occurred," he said. "And we make sure it doesn't happen again."
Wally swallowed hard.
Red tornado and Batman left the infirmary and walked a short distance away to another room where Martian Manhunter was trying to calm his niece.
"Was it wise not to tell Kid Flash that whatever affected him almost transferred to her?"
"Yes."
***
The swamp frothed as something vast pushed through the mire.
Reeds snapped. Mud rolled in thick waves around a shape that didn't belong in the world of the living. A hulking silhouette dragged itself up the bank, dripping black water and grave-clay. Each step landed with the sound of wet stone striking earth slow, heavy, and strong.
Lightning flickered somewhere far off, painting its outline against the night sky — shoulders broad as a truck, arms hanging like ruined pillars. Moss clung to skin the color of snow. Chains trailed behind, half-buried in the mud before snapping free with each dragging stride.
The figure paused at the tree line, head turning and listening.
There distant but alive — the pulse of Gotham.
Sirens. Harbor cranes creaking. The distant roar of traffic like a beast breathing.
A low, seismic growl rolled out of the creature's chest.
It locked its dead eyes on the glimmering skyline — the city rising like a jagged crown in the dark.
Its jaw cracked open, voice deep enough to vibrate the ground beneath its feet.
"Born on a…. Monday…"
Then the figure continued forward each step bringing it closer to the city.
-
A/N: sorry for the short chapter unfortunately sick af