Under the Radar
Two weeks.
That's how long I'd been running myself into the ground.
Morning to night — drills, sprints, energy control, barrier creation, precision blasts. No one was breathing down my neck, no coach with a stopwatch. Just me, the tick of my phone timer, and the quiet, nagging thought that I was still too slow.
When I'd started, I could hold Limitless for fifty seconds before my vision started swimming. Now? Four minutes with the new addition of a suger rush, steady. No tremors, no black spots in my eyes. The cost? My brain felt like someone had been using it for batting practice.
The first time I noticed the crash, I'd been in line at a corner store grabbing water. My head was pounding so hard I was seeing double… until my eyes landed on a pack of sour gummy worms. I don't know why I grabbed them — maybe the colors, maybe just instinct. Ten minutes later, the headache was gone, and I felt almost sharp again.
I bought more the next day. And the next. Pretty soon, my desk was littered with wrappers, and I had to admit it — Gojo wasn't just a smug show-off. The sugar hit was a decent stopgap for the drain of Limitless. Not a fix, but better than the migraine hangover I'd been dragging around.
Money wasn't a problem yet. Fifteen grand from… let's just call it "creative budgeting" after a job gone sideways was still sitting in my account. I'd been careful. Cheap food, one-room apartment, cash only when possible. I could coast for a few months before I needed to think about another payday.
That was the good news.
The bad news?
No matter how much I drilled, I couldn't fake the unpredictability of a real fight. A sandbag wasn't going to sucker-punch me. A tree line didn't fire back. I could build stamina and control all I wanted, but without live opposition, my reaction time would stay soft.
I needed experience. Not just "go out and fight for the thrill" — I'm not an idiot. I needed situations where people actually wanted to win, where I didn't know their next move, where my brain was forced to adapt under pressure.
Crime was an option, but sloppy. Every mugger, every two-bit thug had a chance of being bait for someone bigger. And if I got sloppy? Cops, metas, maybe even League members. No thanks.
Then again… smaller fish were the easiest to catch. If I "intervened" in something low-stakes, I could test myself without burning bridges. Muggers didn't need their wallets back. Weapons? Even better. If I could build up a stash and a little cash on the side, that solved two problems at once.
I'd just have to pick my moments. No point in getting caught on camera. No point in letting someone connect the dots. Keep the mask, keep moving, keep quiet.
Watchtower
The League's meeting chamber gleamed — all polished steel and panoramic Earth view through the wide observation glass. The semi-circular table was already filled
Batman sat near the center, arms crossed, the glow from the monitors painting sharp lines across his cowl. Superman was on his left, posture calm but eyes scanning. Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter, The Flash, Aquaman — all in place.
Green Arrow leaned forward, elbows on the table.
"Two weeks ago, I ran into someone downtown. Blue glow, some kind of barrier that shrugged off heavy hits, and enough raw strength to crater a wall. Didn't give a name, didn't stick around. I've been looking — no matches on record."
Flash tilted his head. "So, what, we're talking about another Lantern?"
Green Lantern shook his head. "Not my kind of construct. And definitely not a ring signature."
Batman's voice cut in, low and precise. "No one with that power set is known to us. No file, no sightings outside of that incident."
Superman frowned slightly. "Could be new. Could be keeping a low profile."
"Or," Batman added, "connected to Cadmus."
There was a beat of silence at that name.
Wonder Woman's eyes narrowed. "You think they're active again?"
"I think," Batman replied, "that they've never stopped. This could be one of theirs — a project we haven't seen. Strength and durability could be engineered. The barrier… that's new."
Aquaman's tone was skeptical. "You're guessing.
"I'm investigating," Batman corrected. "Cadmus has had facilities go dark before. This time, they've been moving resources without triggering alerts. That's enough to warrant suspicion."
Green Arrow nodded toward him. "If this guy's Cadmus, then he's either rogue or undercover. Didn't act hostile, didn't push a fight. Could mean nothing. Could mean he's testing himself."
Flash leaned back in his chair. "Sounds like we'll find out soon enough. And if he's connected to Cadmus, he won't stay hidden forever."
Batman's gaze lingered on the holographic map flickering over the table. "Exactly. Which is why we start tracking now."
The meeting moved on — other topics, other missions — but the note was set. Somewhere out there, a blue glow was already on the League's radar