There were dozens in Gotham. Most were McDojos, places that charged too much money to teach ineffective techniques.
But James was looking for something specific.
He was looking for Richard Dragon.
Richard Dragon was a legend in the martial arts world. He'd trained some of the best fighters on the planet.
Lady Shiva.
Bronze Tiger.
Black Canary.
But Dragon wasn't famous. He didn't advertise. He didn't take students off the street. You had to be invited to train with him.
James needed to figure out how to get that invitation.
He started asking questions carefully. He visited different dojos, posing as someone interested in learning self-defense. He talked to instructors. He listened to students. He picked up names. Rumors. Connections.
It took three weeks, but he finally found a lead.
A dojo in the Tricorner Yards run by a man named Hoshi.
Hoshi had apparently trained with Richard Dragon years ago. He didn't teach Dragon's style but he knew where Dragon was.
James showed up at Hoshi's dojo on a Tuesday evening. The place was small and traditional. Wooden floors. Rice paper screens.
The smell of incense. Hoshi was a thin Japanese man in his fifties with gray hair and sharp eyes.
"I want to learn," James said.
Hoshi looked him up and down. "You're weak."
"I know."
"Why should I teach you?"
James had prepared for this. "Because I'm willing to work harder than anyone else you've taught. Because I'm not here to feel tough or impress people. I'm here because I need to survive."
Hoshi studied him for a long moment. Then he nodded. "We'll see. Classes are Tuesday and Thursday. Fifty dollars a month. If you miss one class, don't come back."
James paid for three months upfront. He didn't miss a single class.
Hoshi's style was practical. No flashy kicks or fancy forms. Just efficient strikes, throws, and locks.
The students, mostly young men from the neighborhood, treated it like a hobby. James treated it like his life depended on it.
Because it did.
After his first month, Hoshi pulled him aside after class. "You're terrible at this."
James wiped sweat from his face. "I know."
"But you work hard. You listen. You don't give up." Hoshi paused. "Why are you really here?"
James met his eyes. "I need to meet Richard Dragon."
Hoshi's expression didn't change but something flickered in his eyes. Surprise, maybe. Or respect. "Dragon doesn't teach anymore."
"I heard he makes exceptions."
"Only for people who are worth his time."
"How do I prove I'm worth his time?"
Hoshi was silent for a moment. Then he said, "There's an underground tournament in two months. Nothing official. Just fighters testing themselves. Dragon sometimes watches. If you compete and impress him, maybe he'll talk to you."
"I'll be there," James said immediately.
Hoshi shook his head. "You'll lose. Badly."
"Probably. But I'll show up."
And that was enough for now.
While James trained his body and planned his introduction to Richard Dragon, he also started tracking people. Important people. Future heroes.
Barbara Gordon was easy to find. She was the daughter of Captain James Gordon, who was already making a name for himself in the Gotham Police Department.
Barbara was seventeen, a senior at Gotham Heights High School. James found out she spent most afternoons at the main library, studying in the reference section.
He started studying there too. He didn't approach her. Not yet. He just wanted to observe. To understand her patterns. Barbara was brilliant, he could tell that just from watching her.
She moved through research materials like someone who actually enjoyed learning. She took notes in neat handwriting. She asked librarians intelligent questions.
James filed the information away for later.
Selina Kyle was harder to find. She wasn't in school. She didn't have a legal job. But James knew she was operating as a small-time thief in the East End.
He spent several nights walking through that neighborhood, watching and listening. He saw her twice.
Once slipping out of a second-story window with a bag over her shoulder. Another time, sitting on a fire escape and eating a sandwich, watching the street below like a cat watching mice.
She was good. Athletic and graceful. But she was also taking unnecessary risks. James wondered if she even realized it.
He didn't approach her either. Not yet.
Zatanna was the easiest to track down. She was performing at a club called the Black Rose in Old Gotham.
James paid the cover charge and watched her act from the back of the room. She was young, maybe early twenties, and she performed stage magic.
Card tricks. Disappearing acts. The usual stuff. But James had read enough comics to know that Zatanna's magic was real. She was a genuine sorceress, probably one of the most powerful magic users on the planet.
She just didn't know it yet. Or maybe she did and she was hiding it.
Either way, James filed that information away too.
By the end of six weeks, James had transformed his life completely. He had fifty-three thousand dollars in cash. He was training six days a week.
He had a plan to meet Richard Dragon. And he had identified three women who would become incredibly important in the future.
But more than that, he'd proven something to himself. He wasn't helpless. He wasn't nobody. He had advantages and he was using them.
James stood in his apartment one night, looking at the list he'd written on that first day.
Money.
Training.
Power.
He'd made progress on the first two. The third was still a mystery. But James was patient. He was smart. And he had time.
Not a lot of time. Maybe two years before the world became too dangerous. But enough to make a difference.
Enough to become someone who mattered.
James folded the list and put it in his pocket. Then he turned off the light and went to bed. Tomorrow he'd train again. He'd research more. He'd keep building.
Because in this universe, nobody survived by being weak.
And James Carter refused to be weak.
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