Long-winded writer's rant. You can skip right past this; doesn't matter. The actual chapter's still here, you can just go to the —=— divider thing. But for those who stuck around for so long through my not-exactly-weekly updates, you might want to see this. Towards the end is a bit of an apology, as well as a promise.
I just had a realization this week when I took a break from writing: I wasn't being sincere in this whole thing.
Well, not quite. I wasn't being sincere enough, in the sense that I was holding myself back without even thinking about it. At some point I realized that I wasn't pouring my everything into this story. This epiphany came when I took a harder look the types of media I consumed.
There was, obviously, superhero media. My Hero Academia is a given, as well as DC and Marvel comics. I've been very partial towards Batman and Spider-Man when it came to the latter, with Iron Man being my gateway into this whole thing.
But that wasn't all that I loved to read about or watch.
Some other media that I McFuckin love are Dorohedoro and DanDaDan. I loved how heckin weird these stories could get. Reading through them was like a fever dream.
This whole time, I've been focusing on the part of me that loved superhero media while completely neglecting the rest of my interests, and I did all that without realizing. I was, in a way, trying to sculpt something using only one hand, by trying to prevent other things I liked from influencing this story.
Also, I saw a video during my break that detailed Yukinobu Tatsu's process for writing DanDaDan, and how things even came to that point. What his editor had him do, and where he got from that. I realized that I've been having similar problems.
So, I'll take a different approach to writing from now on. Not exactly like Yukinobu's, of course—that would just be another way of limiting myself. I'll have to come up with my own approach, which would be something else entirely. It's just that I realized, if I wanted to do this fic some real justice, I would need to do things differently.
I guess the way I've been approaching DC:SR until now was also the main reason it felt like it's been lacking direction so far.
While I'm on the topic of lacking direction, someone actually left a one-star review last week, which put me in a slump and delayed this chapter.
... then again, it also helped lead to the epiphany I had.
As stupid as one of their issues was, [the way their review was worded made it a gross misrepresentation of what I've been trying to do], I do agree that DC:SR could seriously come off as directionless. So, in a roundabout way, they helped me become a better writer.
I also pinned it as commemoration of my first one-star and as a constant reminder for myself to do better.
[Maybe I should print it out and put it on a lanyard?]
In the end, I apologize to those that kept reading along for not doing as good of a job as I could have been, and I apologize to myself for being blind to what I really wanted to write.
To close, here's the promise:
I'm twisting off all my fucking screws. Tightening them was never the right choice, and just keeping them loose was never going to be good enough.
I'm gonna fucking blorp it.
Also longer chapter than usual to make up for lost time. Skipping this coming weekend for another longer chapter like this one on the following weekend, then we're back to approximately weekly.
—=—=—=—=—=—=—=—
Lucian drifted off to sleep, effortless as usual—a trait he had always been proud to have, especially because he was also a shallow sleeper. Rest always came easy, and waking up just as much so.
Still, not everything was constant. This time, he fell into a deep, deep slumber and dreamed. He found himself back in the past, in his original Earth, and his dream-mind failed to recall anything that came after his demise.
As was always the case in dreams, he felt sluggish as he ran, and he couldn't see either. Actually, he didn't run. He was low to the ground on all fours, crawling as best as he could. Usually, people in these sorts of dreams would be pursued by something, hence their frantically sluggish escape. In this case, however, Lucian was the one doing the chasing.
Heat encroached from every angle as he crawled forward, heat that couldn't be compared to anything he had felt before in his life. To make things worse, breathing was impossible. He huffed as hard as he could, forced his diaphragm to move and heaved to raise his ribcage, but nothing seemed to work. His throat was shut, and his lungs felt like they were were filled with sand.
Again, with the slowness imposed upon him by the dream, he was weighed down further by something that clung to his body. It was simultaneously wet and dry, making him feel sticky, slimy, and coarse all over. It was confusing, moving while breathless and caked in whatever substance it was that hindered him.
Still, there was that instinct. Something screamed in the back of his mind to keep chasing after what was in front of him.
As he fatigue set in from his single-minded crawl, he reached it. He wasn't sure who it was, but he managed to grab onto a person's leg. That unknown someone kicked and screamed, but Lucian's ears had been busted for a reason that escaped him. Their voice could only register as this dull noise past the insistent ringing in his skull.
Even as his mark resisted by kicking at him, he crawled his way over their body, strength surging as if to spite the dream-weakness. He kept their legs still and crawled on top of their body, making his way up to their torso. His fingers clamped hard enough with every movement that everything he touched would definitely bruise.
Eventually, he ended up straddling the unknown person, hands moving to their face. His left hand groped its way upward, feeling a wet, screaming mouth and the stranger's nose. He moved a little further up, and without much ceremony, dug his thumb into one eye socket, and two digits in the other. The eyeballs squished under his fingers, slimy and chunky.
As he pinned the head down with his left hand, his right moved to the wailing mouth. All four digits clamped tightly over their teeth, while his thumb dug into the jaw's soft underside. The mystery person tried to bite down, but Lucian didn't let them. With strength far too great for his own body's condition, he pulled with harsh speed.
He could hear the person's screeches more clearly then—he was all up in their personal space, after all. They screamed so loud that his hand felt the vibrations in the jaw, same with his body through their chest as he pinned them down. While pulling, the sensation and feedback of skin and muscles tearing made him feel oddly ticklish. He smiled a little at the thought.
Eventually, after several slow seconds—or maybe minutes, he couldn't tell—the mystery person's jaw separated from their head. It felt... ecstatic, for a reason that he couldn't articulate even in his mind. An overwhelming sense of liberation followed, and it brought him unspeakable catharsis.
He eventually tossed aside the dismembered jaw, then tore at his victim's throat like an overeager child ripping through a present's wrapper. In the end, since the start of his dream, he could breathe. With one deep gasp for air, he bellowed into the nothingness with a cry of victory.
...
Lucian opened his eyes and found himself back in the present. His memories were back in order, but as a consequence, the dream he just had was already fading away. With whatever sense of awareness he could cobble together in his brain's boot-up phase, he forced himself to remember. Every detail in every second, he forcibly etched into his memory like his life depended on it.
As insurance, he also hurried to scrawl logs into Penny's notes. He was sure that if he had been using a physical keyboard to type it all out, it would have been destroyed just from the sheer energy that his fingers would move with.
In the end, even after immortalizing the dream, they would only ever remain one thing: a collection of memories. Gone was the ecstatic violence. The heat that once engulfed and permeated his entire being had vanished. All that was left was the cold, steady air in the living space.
Even if he remembered, it was now gone.
'Fucking hell, what a way to wake up...'
[ You okay? ]
'I'll be fine... just fuckin' weirded out. Remind me to go over that weird-ass dream again later.'
Waking up fully, Lucian rubbed at his eyes, thrusting the new memories into the back of his mind for later. With his vision already adjusted to the low light, he surveyed the surroundings.
The lightbulb over the dinner table was turned off, letting darkness overtake the scene. In its place was a small nightlight in the kitchen, which emanated a soft bluish glow. He noted that it was plugged into an outlet dangerously close to the sink—not that there was anywhere else to put it.
Looking to his right, Nyx seemed to have woken up at some point while he slept. Her little tumbler was at the sink now as well, and her tablet was on the dinner table. She herself was all curled up on the couch, using her baggy hoodie as a makeshift sleeping bag.
Out of habit, he then went to check his phone—someone could have reached out to him while he was tripping balls in dreamland. Oddly enough, he had messages from two unknown numbers.
He opened the first one—older, sent around four o'clock. Not even half an hour ago.
"I'm on a roof near the building you're in. If you're available before sunrise, come meet me up there. I want to talk.
-🌙🪶"
'Huh... figured Nightwing wouldn't be around if Red Hood was asked to babysit me. Must've wrapped up any business he had while I was doing my thing.'
Then, the next one.
It was odd. Just a message about a meet-up point with directions to it, as well as a specific time to be there in a few days. The directions themselves originated from the fighting pit he'd been going to, and he was effectively threatened to come alone. He had a feeling about who the sender was, so he figured he'd ask Nightwing for a hand while he was at it.
He very briefly considered asking Nyx to track it, but with what he'd learned about his pursuers so far from his experiences, he didn't want to risk the kid. As talented as she was with digital spywork, she was still a fledgling at best compared to what was out there—same as him. He just hand a leg up because of Penny.
Getting up, he returned his chair to the dinner table and ascended the stairs. It took a few minutes of knocking at Rita's bedroom door to get her to open up, which he felt bad about. Despite that, he didn't want to miss a meeting window with Nightwing—something like that was essentially a goldmine for information and opportunity. It wasn't like he was leaving the girls completely alone, either—he planned to at least stick around within [ Justice- ] and [Danger Sense] range until the boys returned.
Once Rita was up and about, he bought a burner phone from them that they could call in case there was ever an emergency, and another as backup, just in case the first one couldn't be used.
...
Lucian stepped into a few alley corners before ascending in his Phantom gear, this time after shifting his mask to the back of his head. He decided to make good on his plan right away—bind his face to the ghost, to help keep the beast mostly unassociated with him. Then, he would farm EXP to get levels in the Changeling class—a biological reprogramming tree that he physically could not train, like Monk and Mage skills.
He crested the edge of the tallest building around. He figured he could use it as a vantage point to look for Nightwing. To his pleasant surprise, he was actually right there.
"Yo," He greeted as he hauled himself over.
Nightwing was seated at the roof's edge with two bags of what looked like fast food takeout, one of which was open. He turned to face Lucian and waved back with an awkward smile. "Hey, uh... you sure you should be walking around with your mask off like that? I thought you gave up that identity, too." He pushed the closed paper bag towards Lucian as he spoke.
"I changed my mind. Also, I actually want to show my face like this." He sat with Dick, opening up the bag to be greeted with the tantalizing scent of cheeseburgers. "Having this persona tied to my face would give me some freedom to exercise a good bit of my power at will," he explained while unwrapping a burger, then taking a hefty bite.
"You really plan to juggle three personas at once? You gotta be confident in your skills, because doing this means you'd have to limit yourself to not using your high-energy powers."
Lucian swallowed his first bite. "There's really only two personas if you think about it. Besides, I'm a quick study. I'll just polish my skills and get different gear from what I use as the Manticore. Misinformation and misdirection will handle the rest."
Laughing, Nightwing decided to let him have his moment and let the future do what it will. "Alright, alright. I won't argue with it."
He went silent for a bit to let the atmosphere finish shifting. Once things had settled, he brought up what he came there to tell the rookie.
"Listen. There's something I really needed to tell you. It's about the people who were after you."
Luce nodded. "The ones that sent goons and Venom-heads after me. It was the Donovan family, right? Heard they was Gotham elite."
"Yeah, that's right." Nightwing set down his own food, which he stopped taking bites out of since the conversation started. "Everything I'm about to tell you will be a lot to take in."
The following conversation was enlightening.
Nightwing started by explaining the Donovan family's history. They were former Wayne family supporters with deep business ties to Wayne Enterprises—their current patriarch's father was decently acquainted with Thomas Wayne himself, though he passed away some time ago.
Over the last decade under the current patriarch's rule, their family slowly turned away from what was left of the Waynes and everything they stood for. Once they'd fully defected, they descended into a life of large-scale crime. The raid that Nightwing and the Manticore did at the factory was only a tiny portion of what they had been doing.
"Typical fall from grace story," Lucian commented. Still, everything he just heard was surface-level information. He could've gotten it through a quick internet search, or just asking around in the right places. "Alright. I get the setup. Why'd they turn?"
"Here's the full story..."
He proceeded to elaborate on what he had just established, expanding beyond what could be seen by only looking in from the outside. The Donovan family's descent actually started during Aleck's adolescence—he was twenty-two years old at present, with his family's descent starting just shy of a decade ago.
On its own, it sounded absurd. How could one kid steer his entire family down such a terrible path?
When Lucian made his doubt known, Nightwing put the last puzzle piece in place: Aleck Donovan was a metahuman. Specifically, he had the power to take control of other people's minds.
Lucian's energy flared, as his first instinct was to treat it like a Zebediah Killgrave situation. He knew what that villain had done. What he could do. If Aleck had the same abilities, the entire situation around him was fucked from all angles, and would have to end with a mandatory assassination.
Luckily, Nightwing calmed him down with the next bit of information.
Aleck's mind control—while ultimately nearly identical to Killgrave's in its capabilities—was extremely limited in how it could be applied. He needed direct physical contact with his intended targets' skin, specifically using his hands. He could be neutralized tentatively just by using full-hand cuffs, or permanently by severing them.
Still, whatever his mind control abilities had already effected would be a bitch to deal with. Lucian pictured the cunt using an army of mind-controlled innocents as a living meat shield, and as tricky weapons against anyone who might act against him.
From there, everything could be summarized as thus:
Aleck took literal control of his family to do his bidding. Using their influence, he built up his own power over a fraction of Gotham's underworld. His meta-ability likely wasn't even necessary several steps down the command chain—all he needed was control of the ones at the top, and people would do what they always would. Things fell into place on their own. After that, he then went on and used that power to commit heinous acts that Lucian himself had personally witnessed.
Still, despite the implications, he couldn't help but focus on a smaller application of Aleck's power. A deeper, more personal, more intimate application.
Maxine was in constant danger. The only reason he could imagine for why Aleck didn't already have her in his clutches was sheer arrogance—the cunt had to have believed that she would inevitably become his, just like Tammy did.
Speaking of Tammy...
[ What do you plan to do with this information? ]
'If we didn't have time, I'd go and ice him right now. As things are though, I wanna enlist at least Oracle's help. Though what I plan to do after that, I don't wanna tell anyone.'
[ Oh... Oh. Dear host, you are evil. ]
"Nightwing," Lucian said sharply. The change in his tone made Dick's energy shift as well. "You know I'm gonna get involved now that you've told me all this, right?"
"Yeah," Nightwing replied. "I'm choosing to trust you here. I know about his association with Tamara Watson and Maxine Steele, too. I figured that you deserved to know."
"Alright." Lucian rose from where he sat and continued. "In that case, I got two favors to ask."
When Nightwing rose in turn, he pulled his white mask back on and summoned his electrified sword—though he kept the sheath's locking mechanism engaged.
"First, I'm really pissed right now. You're gonna have to help me work it off. After that, I'll tell you my other request."
– ৹ – ৹৹◎৹৹ – ৹ –
[[ New Quest: Test Drive II - Electric Boogaloo ]]
Description: You have issued Nightwing a challenge: a quick, friendly spar. Victory ultimately doesn't matter, but will you win or lose?
Time Limit: 5 minutes.
Penalties:
- 1 objective failed: No secondary rewards for successful objectives.
- 2 objectives failed: No secondary rewards for successful objectives, and halved total EXP rewards.
- All objectives failed: No rewards; lingering stress.
Objectives:
[1] Stay with your current loadout for the spar's duration.
[2] Avoid using One for All and its Vestiges for the spar's duration.
[3] Defeat Nightwing.
Rewards:
[1] 500 EXP; one D-grade item or one Basic non-class ability of your choosing.
[2] 500 EXP; one D-grade item or one Basic non-class ability of your choosing.
[3] 1,000 EXP.
– ৹ – ৹৹◎৹৹ – ৹ –
◎ ◉ ◎
Bruce stood by Barbara in the Clock Tower, watching through the same screen as her while Lucian initiated a fight with Nightwing. He normally would have returned to one of the Batcaves, but the tower was closer to where he found and detained some of the Donovan family's hiding forces. The rest of his own family had already returned to where they usually stayed, besides Nightwing.
Through the lenses in his eldest's domino mask, they surveyed and analyzed Lucian's fighting style.
"It looks like he's better than you said he was," Barbara commented. "Looks like Dick wasn't exaggerating when he contradicted you. How long has Lucian been doing this again?"
Bruce nursed his wrists, sore from an entire night of fighting. "Not even a month, as far as we know. His foundation must have come from years of brawling, and he's added to it with his recent experiences."
"You're suggesting he learned just by watching Nightwing over the course of one mission."
He grunted his agreement. "There's a chance that it might eidetic kinesthesia. That, or he's a general combat genius. His physique also gives him a unique advantage, and that's not counting his meta-abilities—look how he dodges Nightwing's attacks."
Indeed, the screen showed clearly how Lucian moved. Even if the view was shaky as Nightwing moved around himself, neither viewer had any issue following the feed.
Lucian appeared to be entirely jointless at times, flowing catlike through every other attack. Though he got hit by Nightwing more times than otherwise, his method of evasion was fascinating to watch. His body even seemed to be more flexible Nightwing's own, as he twisted into improbable configurations and bent his joints at angles that would injure most people.
The fight ultimately didn't last very long. In less than three minutes of bouts and breaks, Nightwing had Lucian pinned to the ground, disarmed. He didn't look physically tired because of his monstrous endurance, but his eyes showed that he was mentally checked out.
"We sure about bringing him on?" Barbara asked.
"We are," Bruce replied. "It looks like he's taken a shine to Nightwing, but let's see how he does with the others first. Then we'll figure out who would best accompany him in the upcoming missions."
◎ ◉ ◎
Lucian sighed while laying flat on the ground, breath puffing out as steam into the cold air. "Damn, you're strong," he groaned out. "Are you sure you're a 'normal' human? I seriously don't believe that."
Nightwing, now sitting on the ground beside him, laughed. "Well, I'm not. I won't go into the details, but I'm totally stronger than I look." He wiped some sweat off his brow, then said, "Alright, spill. What was that other thing you wanted from me?"
"Oof..." Lucian pulled himself upright, then put a hand on Nightwing's shoulder to donate some of his excess lifeforce.
He went on to explain the suspicious text message, and even showed the evidence. After seeming to think it over, Nightwing confirmed his suspicions—it was someone connected to Aleck that was trying to lure him into a trap.
"I think I should go," he said after everything. "I'll go figure shit out at that meeting. I mean, if he wants me because I'm the PB, then he's got some kinda purpose for me, right? I could be your inside guy."
Nightwing thought it over. "That... could be an option. Are you sure, though? He could leverage the people you care about once you're in."
Now done with donating his lifeforce, he bapped Nightwing's shoulder with his fist. "If you're gonna trust me to be an inside guy, I'm gonna trust you to take care of my people. Not like it's a guarantee I'll be 'recruited' anyway. If it turns out to be a plain old ambush, I'll just reverse-jump 'em. If they ever try to turn on me once I'm in their camp, I think I can count on you to help me break out."
Nightwing was amused at Lucian's seemingly foolhardy suggestions. If the rookie crimefigher didn't have certain advantages going for him, he would have been vehemently against the idea.
"Alright," he said in the end, standing up. "I'll think it over. Can we meet up tomorrow? I'll give an answer then. The meeting's not until much later, anyway."
Lucian nodded, taking the hand that was offered to him, and got up himself. "Aight. We split now, then?"
Nightwing agreed, and they both went their own way, returning the people in their lives.
[ Notice. ]
[ Quest "Test Drive II: Electric Boogaloo" has been completed, with one objective failed. ]
[ Rewards: ]
[ Objective [1] completed. 500 EXP has been granted. ]
[ Objective [2] completed. 500 EXP has been granted. ]
[ Your level has risen to 18. ]
[ One for All bonus: Power, Vitality, and Agility attributes have all risen by 1. ]
[ Behavioral bonus: Intellect, Mentality, and Spirit have all risen by 1. ]
[ Free attribute points: 5 ]
[ Free attribute assignment: +2 Power, +2 Vitality, +1 Agility ]
[ Class level unassigned. ]
[ EXP to next level: 4,280 ]
– ৹ – ৹৹◎৹৹ – ৹ –
Host: Lucian Albrecht
Titles: Vengeful Guardian
Matrix: Quirk User: One for All
Level: 18
Classes [Brawler - Level 5] ; [Acrobat - Level 5] ; [Criminal - Level 5] ; [Monk - Level 1] ; [Magician - Level 1] ; [Unassigned - 1]
-[Attributes]-
Power: 47 ››› 50 [121]
Vitality: 47 ››› 50 [121]
Agility: 48 ››› 50 [121]
Intellect: 30 ››› 31
Mentality: 30 ››› 31
Spirit: 30 ››› 31
Luck: 1
Free Attribute Points: 0
New non-class abilities unlocked!
Power 50: Superhuman Strength II
• +10% effective Power. Stacks multiplicatively with its previous tier.
• Formula: [ Base Power × Other Bonuses × 1.1 × 1.1 ]
Vitality 50: Superhuman Durability II
• +10% effective Vitality. Stacks multiplicatively with its previous tier.
• Formula: [ Base Vitality × Other Bonuses × 1.1 × 1.1 ]
Vitality 50: Moderate Regeneration: Wounds heal much faster than normal. Small cuts and bruises vanish in hours, and extensive damage can recover expeditiously. Severed limbs can be reattached to heal, or be regrown over the span of a few months.
Agility 50: Superhuman Reflexes II
• +10% effective Agility. Stacks multiplicatively with its previous tier.
• Formula: [ Base Agility × Other Bonuses × 1.1 × 1.1 ]
– ৹ – ৹৹◎৹৹ – ৹ –
◎ ◉ ◎
Drury drove away to one of the private clinics that his current boss had appropriated some time ago.
As things stood, they had to decentralize. The Alex kid decided that they were compromised—honestly, Drury knew they were from the jump—and now, every operation was being broken up into pieces and scattered across the city, keeping in mind to stay away from the territories of Gotham's current major players.
He was going along with the kid's decisions for the time being because there was still substance to milk from his employment, but he planned to jump ship as soon as Batman rolled around. After that, once the bat was exhausted from throwing down with dozens to hundreds of goons, he would swoop in and claim victory for himself...
Returning to Earth from his daydreams, he pulled in and parked behind the small clinic, settling his outwardly nondescript pickup truck in a reserved private spot—a courtesy of being employed by the owner. He exchanged knowing looks with the guards at the rear entrance, and he was let in without incident.
The basement levels were his destination. He was asked to meet up and get acquainted with Alex' right-hand man, some street fighter and enforcer named Orwell. Scrappy kind of guy, tough as nails, built almost as well as Batman—supposedly.
The reason he was in the clinic's basement was because the eggheads needed to monitor him, looking out for anything that might be amiss after taking full doses of Venom. The clinic itself was chosen specifically because shipments of medical equipment wouldn't look out of place at a glance.
Well, if Drury could figure it out, the bat definitely could. He had probably done so already, as a matter of fact—it was just 'fortunate' that he hadn't decided to strike yet.
The elevators to the basement labs were in the normal basement itself. A section of exposed 'brick wall' would pull back and open via human commands from the inside, if two conditions were met: if the individual standing before it was recognized by the operator, and the coast was clear.
Emergencies had different protocols, but there was no reason to sweat those at the moment.
The doors opened to a steel and concrete corridor once they reached their destination—an entirely utilitarian facility where no pretense of normalcy could be found. Armed guards marched to and fro, and medical and biological research specialists either meandered about or rushed between hallways as work overtook them.
Taking the path he had memorized, Drury arrived at a spacious hybrid room, where recognizable medical equipment and dedicated bio-engineering technology coexisted. One section of it currently acted as a rest and testing station for the man named Ricardo Orwell.
Seeing him in person, Drury was surprised. It was neither pleasant nor otherwise—it was just surprising.
Though he was informed that Orwell was stable, the enforcer looked anything but. There was significant scarring from his skin being stretched by Venom's monstrous physique-enhancement. His eyes sat deep in their sockets with residual green glow, and his bulk still seemed unnatural.
Again, he questioned what 'stable' was from appearances alone, but Orwell must have been doing good on the inside.
"Looks like you dosed up a little too much while chasing after the boy," said Drury as he approached.
"You must've thought you were hot shit when my boss hired you," Orwell shot back. His voice sounded like it was passed through a faint deep-voice filter. "He just got got his hands on you 'cause you were convenient."
"Loyal dog," Drury remarked. "And what about you? Think you're any different?"
"I know exactly how convenient I was. I just don't go strutting around like a cocky little shit because I was scouted."
A chuckle escaped Killer Moth's throat, a look of contempt threatening to paint itself over his face. "Well, it was nice meeting you, 'Project Demolisher,'" he said, sardonic.
A low sound rumbled out from Orwell's throat as surgeons took care in measuring his forelimbs and mapping out markers and outlines along the skin over his spine. As much as he would have loved to give Killer Moth a good thrashing while his back was turned, he held back. Losing his temper wouldn't do at this point, as he couldn't risk getting benched from the project he agreed to be a part of out of sheer pride.
◎ ◉ ◎
'So... why not let me take the Changeling class right away?'
[ You noticed how taking new classes and leveling them changed your body, right? ]
'Hm... yeah, I did. Even just raising my attributes made a noticeable difference at the start.'
[ Then you can guess the rest. ]
'Well, shit. Would it hurt?'
[ Define 'hurt.' ]
'Copy that...'
Lucian sighed, standing up straight from his perch. On his first 'flight,' he chose a regular high-rise building to jump off of. This time, he went to the nearest skyscraper that he could spot. The source of his confidence was the recent rise of his physical attributes after fighting Nightwing—their numbers have gone up nearly half as much more since then.
He took a deep breath, slowly increasing the length of the Blackwhip tendrils sprouting from his back. A denser collection of them emerged around the top of his shoulder blades, cording together to serve as a semi-rigid frame. The rest spawned in arrangements that resembled avian muscle groups, wrapping around the corded frames as muscles would to bone. This process was repeated around his chest, though without the frames as they were already present.
Lastly—broader, flatter tendrils wove themselves with each other to serve as webbing for the frame, and they caught the ambient wind blowing all around.
"One for All," Lucian whispered to himself as encouragement, and the Quirk's lightning enveloped him alongside the faint fire of his lifeforce.
Unlike before, he didn't simply crouch down before jumping. He leapt back, wings folded, then gave himself a running start. His wings spread out wide as he neared the rooftop's edge, and at the last step, he pushed forward at a high angle for takeoff.
'Moment of truth!'
With the faux musculature over his back, he brought his wings up, folding them partially to eliminate unwanted thrust. Then, with all the strength he could muster, he contracted the tendrils wrapped around his chest with a slow start and rising acceleration. A powerful gale sounded around him, and with the lack of straining in his body despite the considerable effort, Lucian knew—he could truly fly now.
With sheer elation, he heaved a deep breath as he flew in the hospital's general direction. His cry for joy was amplified many-fold by the Howling Maw, and with the Cloak of Distortion's warping effects, a monstrous roar rattled the skies over Gotham City.
—=—=—=—=—=—=—=—
[A/N]: Uhhh... hi! Sorry I took so long with this, I for real got depressed over that one-star for a few days. I'm better now though, and I made this one extra long to make up for things. Again, skipping this coming Saturday to post another longer chapter on the Saturday after it, then we're going back to roughly weekly!
This chapter itself was ~5k words total, discounting this author's note and the rant towards the beginning. This should hopefully clear up some things that I think were muddied by my... distracted writing, and it's a way to course-correct to where I realize I always wanted to go.
Order of business, as a reminder to myself [you don't need to read this]:
Primary and Overarching Goal: Team up with the bat-family to help handle this relatively no-name organized crime group. My plan is to have them slowly box in those responsible before putting them away... maybe some of them for good.
Secondary, Immediate Goal: Have Lucian become as strong as possible before the meeting that I set up between him and whoever sent him that text message. This will feed into the primary goal.
Tertiary, Long-Term Goal: Find opportunities to set up the next arc/volume without distracting from the current active plot. [Yes, I'm calling what we have so far a volume. Fight me.]
After this is all over, I might take a month's break to prepare a general plot skeleton for the next volume if I don't already have one by then, just so I don't run into the same problems that I did with this one. I'll focus more on the more 'inhuman' characters for that volume—Killer Croc, Manbat, Poison Ivy [yes, I consider her inhuman—but not in a bad way], and others.
That's all for now. If you have any advice that can help me with any problems you see in my work, comment them! I'm still kinda fumbling blind through here even with both eyes already open. Illuminate me!