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By: OrderNerd
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[Next Morning — Overcast Skies]
The suitcase was ready. Clothes folded with precision, notebooks, personal items.And, beneath a carefully constructed false bottom, rested the suit.Each piece organized with care: the helmet with dark lenses, reinforced gloves, the black overcoat with internal plating, the adapted boots… and the armored chest piece, the product of sleepless nights spent molding steel with sweat and silence.
At the kitchen doorway, Elena Vale watched him quietly. Her eyes, though steady, carried the weight of a farewell she hadn't fully digested.
"Leaving already?" she asked, trying to keep her voice firm, as if that could keep the moment from arriving.
Ethan nodded, pulling the suitcase handle with a measured motion.
She stepped forward and hugged him tightly, as if the world might collapse if she let go.
"Your brother explained it to me," she murmured, her face pressed against his shoulder.
"Said you'll be representing him at company meetings in Gotham."
She loosened the hug just enough to look him in the eyes, cupping his face in both hands.
"This is important, I know. But nothing—absolutely nothing—is more important than you, Ethan. Promise me you'll take care of yourself?"
He nodded, sincerity in his gaze."I promise."
"And don't shut yourself away, okay? Call once in a while… eat properly…" She tried to smile, but her voice broke.
He answered with a faint smile.
"I will."
"Your sister… she was supposed to arrive today. I'll tell her you had to leave earlier. She'll be upset, of course… but she'll understand."
Ethan hesitated for a second before replying softly.
"I'll make it up to her. Another time. I promise."
Outside, a black luxury car was already waiting.The driver stood by the rear door, posture erect as a statue. His sober features, neatly combed gray hair, and perfectly trimmed mustache were matched by sharp eyes behind an expression that balanced rigidity and warmth.
As Ethan approached, the man gave a slight bow.
"Master Ethan. A pleasure to see you again."
"Hey, Abel," Ethan replied with a tired smile.
Abel Kingsley. Sixty-two years old. Former naval officer, polyglot, discreet as a shadow. He had served the Vale family since before Ethan's father's passing, and had been present at the birth of all the heirs. More than a butler, he was, in many ways, part of the family.
"I'll place the luggage in the trunk. The ride to the helipad will be smooth. The upper floor of Vale Tower in Gotham has been prepared according to your brother's instructions."
"Thanks, Abel."
Ethan turned to his mother one last time.He hugged her tightly. She held his hand for a few seconds longer, reluctant to let go, before releasing it with tearful eyes… and a proud smile that said more than words ever could.
The car pulled away.The house fell behind.The street vanished beneath the soft hum of the tires.And the morning fog swallowed the last traces of home.
[Gotham City — Late Afternoon]
The helicopter sliced through low clouds with a muffled roar, descending slowly onto the rooftop of a colossal building shrouded in fog and concrete.
The sky, tinted a leaden gray, seemed to press down on the city like an oppressive ceiling.
Vale Tower rose before them like a dark-glass-and-steel giant, its mirrored walls reflecting the chaos and urban decay below. A monolith planted in the heart of Gotham's concrete jungle.
The rotors slowed to a stop, and the side door opened with a dry click.
Abel stepped out first, posture immaculate, and gestured discreetly for Ethan to follow.
No receptionists.
No staff.
The penthouse was reserved exclusively for the Vale heirs — a fortress at the top of the world.
Inside the private elevator, only the soft hum of cables in motion broke the silence. The brushed steel walls reflected the red lights of passing floors, like a heartbeat.
Ding.
The doors slid open.
Ethan's new temporary home revealed itself — a colossal apartment.
Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of Gotham's brutal skyline, its flickering lights battling the darkness, sirens blending into the never-ending urban thunder.
Fog, smoke, and concrete framed the view — like a nightmare that never woke.
Ethan set the suitcase against the wall, still silent.
"Welcome back to Gotham, Master Ethan," Abel said, removing his gloves with elegance.
"I'll prepare something for dinner."
His footsteps faded into the hallways.
Ethan walked to the main window,below, Gotham pulsed.
Flickering streetlights, the muffled hum of tires, distant shouts, the chop of helicopter blades.
It was like staring into the heart of a sleeping beast — one he knew well.
He placed a hand against the glass, took a deep breath, and spoke aloud, as if confessing to his own reflection.
"They say Gotham belongs to Batman… but even he can't be everywhere at once."
His eyes glimmered with a newfound resolve.
"I'm not here to replace him… but I can cover what he can't see. Protect who he can't reach."
A faint electronic chime echoed in his mind.
🌀 [SHADOW ADAPTATION SYSTEM — ACTIVE]
· Level:8· (Daily missions completed: 7 consecutive days)·
Species:Human· Class:None
Attributes:
•Strength:30
• Constitution:20
• Agility: 22
• Intellect:10
• Perception:24
Physical Condition:Stable
HP:200 / 200
MP:100
Fatigue: 0/ 100
Available Points:0
Upcoming Level Bonuses:
🔒 New Skill— Unlocks at Level 10
🔒 Intermediate Combat Missions— Level 12
Ethan studied the data carefully, absorbing each number.
Still not enough.Not even close.
He closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a slow breath, as if holding back the urge to do more.
Gotham would be his testing ground.No better place for it.
[Gotham City — Night]
Dinner had been simple — rice, grilled meat, hot tea. All prepared with Abel's quiet precision.
When he was done, Ethan walked to the door, jacket on, tactical backpack slung over his shoulder.
"I'm going out for a walk," he said casually, but with a firm tone.
Abel, drying a wine glass, raised his eyes with calm sobriety. "Shall I prepare something for later, Master Ethan?"
"No need. And… don't tell my mother. I don't want her worrying."
The butler nodded without hesitation."As you wish, Master Ethan."
Ethan cast one last glance at the luxurious apartment — that comfortable bubble atop the city — before heading to the Vale family's private elevator.
No visible buttons. Just a touch-sensitive panel that recognized his fingerprint instantly. The doors closed.
No cameras. No sound but the faint hum of descent.
The elevator passed dozens of floors before reaching the fortified garage in the underground levels.
Ethan walked to one of the family cars — a sleek, discreet black sedan. He tossed the backpack into the back seat and climbed in.
He plugged in a small device to the dashboard: a modified frequency scanner. Small, cheap, but upgraded by his own hands — capable of picking up police transmissions with crystal clarity.
Static.Hiss.
"…Alpha Unit, we have a 10-63 in progress at 5th and Willow. Three suspects, armed. A witness reports… wait… looks like Batman's been spotted in the area."
Ethan frowned, drumming his fingers on the wheel.
"So he's already chosen where to act…"
He turned the wheel and accelerated.
If Batman was in the East Sector…He would go West.
The dark streets of Gotham slid past like rushing shadows. Fog crawled between alleys, streetlights gleamed off the wet hood, sirens whispered in the distance.
Minutes later, he parked discreetly beneath a semi-abandoned shopping gallery.
No security.
No movement.
Perfect.
In the back seat, he began gearing up.
Reinforced boots. Dark pants with internal plating.The steel-alloy chest piece — handmade, heavy, yet comfortable.The overcoat on top. And finally, the helmet with opaque lenses.
In the rearview mirror, he studied himself for a second. The reflection of a vigilante no one would recognize.
He opened the door, climbed the service stairs, and emerged onto a nearby rooftop.
Then… he ran.
Leaping between buildings with the lightness of someone no longer entirely human. Elevated agility. Controlled strength.
His body obeyed with precision, his senses sweeping the streets like a silent predator.
The city pulsed beneath him.Clustered buildings, flickering lights, neon and concrete.
Then he spotted it.
A convenience store still lit, at the corner of 6th and Kingsroad.Lights on, doors open.Inside… strange movement.
Four youths. Two with baseball bats. One with a knife. The last… with a gun.
The clerk was cornered behind the counter.
Ethan observed from above.
One barked at the clerk, his voice sharp and venomous. Another tore through the drinks aisle, glass clinking and cans rolling as he kicked everything in reach.The one with the knife crouched low on the counter, eyes wild, blade glinting under the flickering light. And the one with the gun… just stood there, grinning, a low, ugly laugh rattling out of him like he'd already won.
"Four against one. Better than a horde of mutants."
Ethan adjusted his footing, muscles coiling. He surged forward, bounding from rooftop to rooftop — each leap smooth and measured — until, five meters above the ground, he dropped into the alley like a shadow falling.
He landed without a whisper, knees bending to absorb the impact.
Without breaking stride, he slipped toward the side entrance. The loading door was old, its hinges rusted and frame warped. One sharp drive of his shoulder — metal groaned, the latch snapped — and he was inside.
The aisles were narrow, boxed in by shelves, the air buzzing under flickering fluorescent lights. Ethan slipped between the shadows, each step deliberate, silent — a predator stalking prey.
The voices grew sharper with each breath:
"Fill the damn bag, old lady!"
"Move it, before Travis loses it!"
"Hahaha — hey, look what I found! Chocolate!"
"Shut up, moron! Just grab it!"
He pressed himself behind a central shelf, eyes scanning, mind calculating.
Three seconds to reach the one with the knife — still squatting on the counter, jittery, pupils blown wide, maybe drunk. Five seconds to the gunman — weapon locked on the trembling clerk, finger twitching near the trigger.The other two roamed the store, noisy and careless — easy to track, no immediate threat.
The window between pulling the trigger and the bullet leaving the barrel — that was the danger. The gunman had to be the first to fall.
Ethan drew in a slow breath, and let it out.
Then… he struck.
He burst from the shadows like a fired round, boots hammering against the ceramic floor, each step cracking through the stillness.
The gunman barely had time to register the blur rushing toward him before a fist smashed into his jaw.
The blow spun him midair before gravity claimed him, his body hitting the ground limp and silent.
Shouts erupted. A figure lunged from behind, bat swinging wide.
Ethan ducked low, caught the attacker's wrist mid-swing, twisted sharply, breaking his stance before slamming him hard into the wall, where he slid down and didn't rise again.
"Two down… two to go."
The knife-wielder leapt from the counter, screaming:
"Who the hell are you?!"
Ethan turned with a quick pivot, dropped low, then sprung upward like a coiled spring — driving his fist into the thug's stomach.
The last one, trembling, dropped the bat and raised his hands.
"N-no! I just… I didn't even want to! I just came along!"
Ethan stepped closer.Silent.
From behind the mask, his voice came out rough.
"Consequences."
With a swift pivot, Ethan's leg snapped out in a precise arc, his boot slamming into the boy's midsection. The impact lifted him off his feet and sent him crashing to the floor in a heap.
The clerk, still quivering behind the counter, stared at him with wide, unblinking eyes.
Ethan stooped, scooped up the fallen gun, and placed it gently into the old woman's hands.
"Call the police."
Before she could muster a single word, he was already gone.
Out in the night, the new vigilante dissolved into Gotham's labyrinth of alleys —a living shadow…an unspoken omen.