A white-haired man wearing a blindfold could be seen casually toying with Deathstroke. No matter how sharp or precise Deathstroke's swings became, the man avoided them with effortless grace, his hands buried in his pockets and a relaxed smile playing across his lips. It was clear he wasn't taking the fight seriously.. Then, when boredom finally set in, everything changed.
With a single punch, Deathstroke was sent hurtling through the air, the sound barrier shattering from the punch. The force of the blow tore through the street, and moments later, his body crashed violently into a nearby building. Blood burst from his mouth as he coughed and groaned in pain. If not for his enhanced physiology and the protective suit shielding him, that strike alone would have ended his life.
The thought twisted in his mind—he wasn't even sure if Superman's punches had ever broken the sound barrier. Yet this blindfolded man had done so without the slightest effort, as if such power were second nature.
The white-haired man began walking toward Deathstroke, his steps calm and casual. He raised his hand slightly, prepared to deliver the finishing blow—when, without warning, he paused. A blur cut through the streets in a streak of speed, and with the smallest shift of his body, the man stepped aside, smoothly avoiding the strike aimed for where he had stood only a heartbeat ago.
The blur didn't stop. In a flash, it scooped Deathstroke up and carried him away to safety, leaving the white-haired man staring after it with the same faint, unbothered expression.
"This ends here." From the shadows, Batman emerged, his presence heavy with grim resolve. And above them, the skies filled with silhouettes as countless members of the Justice League revealed themselves, descending like a storm ready to break.
"You're defending an assassin?" the white-haired man asked softly, his tone carrying a quiet edge.
"We're fully aware of what he is," Batman replied, his voice calm and unwavering. "But at the end of the day, neither you nor I have the right to take another life."
"Oh?" The white-haired man tilted his head slightly, a mocking smile tugging at his lips. "And who does have that right? The ones in power? The same people who hire men like him to do their dirty work?"
"David, I understand you're hurt… but this isn't right. This isn't the way to honor Sarah's memory," Superman said softly.
The words caused David's eyes narrowed behind the blindfold. In that instant, the air around him warped, space itself pulled him forward forward, his body vanished from sight.
He reappeared directly in front of Superman, his fist wrapped in a brilliant blue glow. The blue, it pulled space towards the space, pulling Superman toward him, amplifying the force and more then doubling the impact in a single devastating blow.
The punch landed cleanly. The Man of Steel was launched across the heavens, his body streaking through the night like a fallen star, the shockwave of the strike echoing long after he was gone.
"Keep my daughter's name out of your fucking mouth," David said softly. His words were calm, but every word carried a lethal edge.
A storm of attacks rushed toward him—Cyborg's plasma beams, Shazam's lightning, and Wonder Woman's blade—all converging in a coordinated strike. Yet the moment they neared his body, each one froze in place. The beams hung suspended in the air, the lightning lost its fury, and even the sword halted inches from his chest. Nothing could touch him.
Batman's eyes narrowed, his sharp gaze locked on the sight. He recognized the phenomenon instantly. Infinity. An ability he had seen used many times before, one that warped the very rules of space itself.
Then, in a blur, Flash appeared before David the instant his feet touched the ground. With a push of a button, he activated the space unstabilizer—a device built for one purpose alone: to pierce Infinity.
Flash's fist tore forward, bypassing Infinity as if the barrier didn't exist. David's expression shifted, a faint frown importing itself on his face. The strike caught him off guard, but instinct was faster than thought. His body reacted on its own, moving with effortless precision, every motion stripped of waste as he slipped just out of reach of the blow.
In the same breath, his hand darted toward the space unstabilizer clutched in Flash's grip. Victory seemed certain—until the world tilted. A sudden dizziness washed over him, lightness spreading through his head, forcing him to stop. His fingers stopped short, the device still out of reach.
Batman stepped out of the shadows, appearing directly in David's path. The Dark Knight would never walk towards him so openly unless he was absolutely certain. That meant only one thing—he believed the battle was already decided.
"The moment we arrived, we spread it out," Batman said calmly, his voice steady as ever. "We knew ordinary knock-out gas wouldn't affect you, so we enhanced it—layered with magic and laced with Poison Ivy's toxins. You wouldn't take off that mask unless you got serious, so there was no way for you to notice."
David's breathing grew heavier. His eyelids trembled as he fought the pull of unconsciousness, slapping himself sharply across the face. To Batman's surprise, the strikes worked, momentarily keeping him awake, his willpower cutting through the haze. But the resistance was short-lived. After a few more seconds, his body betrayed him. His legs buckled, and he crashed to the ground, white hair darkening to black as the last of his strength faded.
When his eyes finally opened again, the world had changed. Cold metal surrounded him. He was imprisoned in the Watchtower, every limb restrained. His joints were locked in place—fingers, arms, even his head—all bound and rendered immovable. For the first time, David's body refused him entirely.
"So… what now?" David asked, his tone even as his eyes shifted toward Cyborg, who stood nearby tapping away at a screen, as though nothing else existed.
"We would have someone watching you at every moment. This is the only prison in the world capable of holding you. But it's also to keep you away from others who want to study your body, since by all means, you're a normal human, yet you have the power to tap into the emotional spectrum. So, many across Earth and the universe might want to study you."
Batman's voice cut through the silence. He stepped out of the shadows, revealing himself fully, his gaze locked on David as he delivered the words without hesitation.
"Cute… but you guys made one mistake," David said lightly, his words slipping out with a calm edge that carried more weight than volume. The room fell still, the steady rhythm of two hearts faltering for the briefest moment. David closed his eyes, retreating inward, his thoughts pulling him back to the very reason behind everything he was doing now.
***
In a bathroom, a half-asleep David stood hunched over the sink, brushing his teeth. His movements were sluggish, more out of habit than intention. The door creaked open, and a girl stepped inside, her eyes half-lidded with drowsiness. Without a word, she joined him at the mirror, her own toothbrush in hand.
The two stood side by side, reflected together in the glass. Their arms moved in unison, yet their minds were far away, each lost in a haze of unspoken thoughts, the silence between them comfortable and familiar.
The two quickly finished and went about their morning routine, moving through the motions without exchanging a word. Yet silence never felt empty between them. It was as though each instinctively knew what the other was thinking, helping in small ways without being asked—passing things along, stepping aside, filling gaps naturally. Their bond made words unnecessary.
In the end, they sat together at the table, breakfast plates in hand, the television glowing before them. One Piece played on the screen. It had become their quiet tradition, a pattern they had shared for years—father and daughter, living in their own world, untouched by everything outside it.
"I'm coming home late today," Sarah said softly, her voice hesitant. "I-I'm going on a date with someone who asked me out."
Sarah spoke softly, her voice carrying hesitation as she threw a cautious look at her father, uncertain of how he might react. Ever since her mother had walked out on them for a wealthier man, it had been only the two of them. That betrayal had left scars, and though they never spoke about it, both carried its weight every day. Her father had never been the type of man built for responsibility—on his own, he was the kind who would have been too lazy to cook and would throw do anything but cook to fill his stomach. Yet with her depending on him, he had been forced to change. He had grown into someone who put her first, reshaping himself into a man who carried the burden of parenthood no matter the cost.
Because of that, David hadn't dated in years. His world narrowed into a routine of work and caring for her, each day repeating the same cycle. Many times, Sarah had tried to convince him to move on, to find someone for himself, reminding him that she was more than capable of handling her own life. But David never listened. To him, she was still the same little girl who needed his protection. And that stubborn devotion always left her feeling guilty, knowing that he had sacrificed so much for her. His life no longer revolved around his own wants—it orbited only her.