Shelim's POV
I flipped through my contact list, settling on Barbara's number. She was supposed to be Ra's al Ghul's inside woman in Poison Ivy's territory—and she'd set up the meeting Ernest hadn't returned from.
I hoped for her sake that Ernest was just picking a spectacularly bad time to take in the sights.
She let the phone ring out before finally answering.
"Please tell me Ernest is knee-deep in debauchery and just blew me off."
"I'm sorry, but I can't tell you that," she said smoothly. "You need to get over here. There's something you have to see."
"He's dead, isn't he?" My voice came out strained with guilt and certainty. "If Ivy laid a hand on him—"
"And cross your boss?" she cut me off. "We're allies now. No. The cause of his death is something far more mundane: avarice. He went after Julius Spencer and failed."
My heart stopped. "I'm coming to you."
The trip down to Ivy's underground playhouse was short. Minutes later, I was standing in the meeting room—and my breath hitched.
What the fuck.
The place was barely standing. Half of it scorched with burn marks, the rest collapsed into rubble and shredded vines. Even the ceiling had long gouges torn out.
Ernest's whip, no doubt.
Then there was the hole in the floor.
I hopped through it, landing from a five-story drop with only the slightest pulse of Reinforcement. Before my Blockbuster Venom injection, it would've taken three times the Curse Energy. Some of us just took better to the changes than others—but overall, it had been a boon. We were faster, stronger. The tradeoff was technique efficiency
We'd all gotten sloppier—even the twins--when we transformed.
That probably played into this.
The entrance hall was worse. I mentally mapped out the carnage: the slashes, the frantic movement, where it had all ended. The floor smashed in. Blood and bits of brain still clinging to the stone.
"Jesus wept," I muttered. This was a fucking nightmare. Ernest wasn't a pushover. If Julius had managed to kill him post-transformation, then Julius was high First Grade at the very least.
Barbara slipped in, descending the stairs. My ire turned to her.
"Why didn't you help him?" I demanded. "You knew who he was. You know why I sent him here."
"What would you have Ivy do?" she countered. "He initiated the fight. Got most of her guests killed. Julius didn't even look winded when it was over. If we'd pressed him, he would've carved through hundreds of guards and taken half the castle down with explosions."
I didn't disagree with the assessment, but it didn't make the pill any easier to swallow.
The air shimmered, and three figures materialized behind me. My lips twisted in recognition.
"Wow, Shelim," George's grating voice rang out. "Didn't think you had it in you. You grieving over Ernest? I thought you hated his guts."
I smoothed my expression, slipping into a grin. "He was a stick in the mud, sure. But he was our stick in the mud. Ernest had more talent in his pinkie than most First Grades know what to do with."
"That's generous," Gina said coolly. "He relied on tools instead of mastering his technique. He'd have achieved Domain Expansion otherwise."
I scoffed. "You say that like it's a choice." Luck's eighty percent of Jujutsu. Even Special Grades don't guarantee a Domain. It's the pinnacle—complete mastery of your technique, inside and out. And even then, most wait for a spark of inspiration that never comes.
I was lucky. I'd unlocked mine three years in. George and Gina took seven. Lily was still waiting.
"It was him, wasn't it?" Lily whispered, her face stormy, still stinging from the beating Julius gave her. "Julius."
"Seems like he's picked up more tricks since then," I said. "Ernest never stood a chance."
Gina's single eye widened. "But he was enhanced. He should've had that fight locked down."
"Apparently, the kid used bombs," I said, folding my arms. "Might've weakened him enough to level the playing field. Or maybe he's just that good. The Founder's bloodline runs deep. Imagine when he hits Special Grade." I let a smirk curl. "Could happen any day now."
"Good," George grinned. "Wouldn't be a fair fight otherwise."
"Nothing about this is fair," Lily snapped. "Shelim, I know you can find him."
"Probably," I admitted, then gestured toward Barbara. "But she definitely knows. He came here for a reason."
All eyes turned to Barbara. To her credit, she didn't flinch. The woman had iron nerves.
"He came seeking someone who works for us. They arranged a meeting for a week from now. I can give you the address," she said.
"Why would Ivy allow it after tonight?" Gina pressed.
"Who's to say?" Barbara replied smoothly. "Maybe to kill him somewhere public. Or trap him, force him to work for her." She scribbled on a card and held it out. "As you said, the boy is talented."
"And she's just offering him up?" Gina narrowed her eye.
"He's less valuable than your organization."
Lily raised a hand, and a tentacle of darkness lashed out from her sleeve, snatching the card. She scanned it, irritation flashing across her face.
"I won't wait that long," she said.
"I agree," Gina added. "The League will already be linking Cadmus to Artisan. Time isn't on our side."
"It's not like we can storm Justice League headquarters," George muttered. "Even I'm not that crazy."
"But we can draw him out," Lily said. "And I know how."
Julius's POV
The next few days, I spent lifting, checking my status, sparring, and talking with the team. Everyone except Superboy had grown colder toward me.
Probably had something to do with the casual murder.
Robin was the quietest—he hadn't said a word, just kept shooting me weird looks.
Miss Martian and Kid Flash, on the other hand, were the most vocal.
"I can't believe you actually killed the Joker," Kid Flash said. "People have been talking about it for years—cops, small-time crooks. Even some heroes threatened it. But I didn't think anyone would actually go through with it."
I shrugged, mopping up a mountain of eggs and bacon. With nothing much to do but train, I'd taken to cooking and testing my new toys. The cloak was amazing—energy-hungry, but worth it. The sword, even better. But the whip? Brutal. Devastating. I loved it.
"I shot him. Didn't expect him to die," I admitted. "But we're all human in the end." I paused, glancing at Miss Martian. "Well, mostly."
"Everyone thinks you meant to kill him," Miss Martian said softly.
I didn't bother hiding it. "Maybe. Maybe not. When I fight seriously, I go in with everything I've got. Anything less would be insulting to them—and suicidal for me."
"Gnarly, bro…" Wally muttered. His enthusiasm dipped. "But that's not really how heroes fight."
"Never said I was one," I pointed out.
"Fair enough," he conceded.
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