A raptor had entered the dark forest called Gotham.
Bruce Wayne wanted to uncover the stranger's identity. Someone like that could not simply appear in the city without consequences.
His finger pressed the search key.
The enormous screen immediately responded.
Bright red words appeared across the display.
No Information.
Bruce Wayne stood before the massive wall of monitors, his brow slowly tightening.
"No criminal record. No driver's license. No purchase history. No immigration records…"
He muttered the list quietly while scrolling through database after database. Each search produced the same empty result.
"That leaves only two possibilities."
His eyes hardened.
"Either this person has lived in some untouched wilderness since birth…"
Bruce paused.
"Or that face is fake—just like mine."
…
Under a gray Gotham sky, David walked along the crowded sidewalk with an umbrella in hand.
Raindrops drummed softly against the fabric as pedestrians rushed past him in a blur of coats and umbrellas. Gotham's streets were alive with noise, yet somehow still carried a strange sense of decay.
He casually touched his face.
With his extraordinary eyesight, he had already noticed the tiny pinhole camera hidden in the rose on Bruce Wayne's chest earlier.
But he had ignored it.
The face he wore now was completely real.
It had simply been… adjusted.
"There are roughly forty muscles in the human face," David thought calmly. "They're divided into expressive muscles and chewing muscles."
Beneath the skin, facial muscles intertwined with blood vessels and nerves, wrapping around cartilage and bone. All those layers worked together to create the countless expressions humans used every day.
"Most people can't control them individually."
Talented actors could manipulate more facial muscles than ordinary people. That allowed them to subtly alter their expressions, stiffen certain areas, or mimic someone else's mannerisms.
But even the best performers couldn't control every muscle.
Ordinary humans simply lacked that level of precision.
David wasn't an ordinary human.
In fact, he wasn't even an Earthling anymore.
The mutant physiology inherited from Thanos's Eternal lineage granted him perfect control over every muscle in his body. That ability allowed him to fine-tune strength during combat, regulate movements with microscopic precision, and—if necessary—change the shape of his face.
"Thanos probably never used this ability," David reflected.
The Mad Titan had no reason to hide his identity.
And even if he did, there were far easier methods—magic, advanced technology, or sheer overwhelming force.
After all, disguising a three-meter-tall purple warlord with a giant chin wasn't exactly practical.
Passing a glowing power transformer on the street corner, David's thoughts drifted elsewhere.
To Avery.
As the future Superman, Clark Kent's powers were far too deeply rooted in his genetics to disappear easily. His Kryptonian physiology was tied to every cell in his body.
"That means the powers should still exist somewhere."
David considered the possibilities calmly.
"If Avery can be captured and the accident recreated, Clark might regain his abilities. The original event involved high voltage electricity combined with Kryptonite radiation."
He glanced toward the cloudy sky.
"If that fails, maybe lightning during a storm could trigger the same reaction."
But every plan depended on one thing.
Finding Avery.
He needed to locate Avery somewhere inside Gotham first.
A thoughtful look crossed David's eyes.
"Maybe I should start by finding a couple of local gangsters," he mused. "They usually know the latest rumors in a city like this."
Bang!
A sudden collision interrupted his thoughts.
Up ahead, a hurried figure bumped directly into a well-dressed woman carrying an expensive designer handbag.
"Sorry!"
The girl had beautiful brown hair and moved quickly, clearly in a rush. She lowered her head politely, apologized, and disappeared around the corner almost immediately.
The woman muttered a few curses but didn't bother chasing her.
Gotham residents had learned long ago not to make trouble in the streets.
David raised an eyebrow.
He had already noticed something.
The sapphire ring that had been on the woman's finger was gone.
Encountering a robbery first and a pickpocket second on the same street wasn't unusual in Gotham. The city's "simple and honest folk customs" were famous for that.
But stealing a ring from someone's finger during a collision without anyone noticing?
That required skill.
Real skill.
David watched the direction the girl had disappeared.
"For thieves, religion and black markets often go hand in hand," he thought. "People who know how to sell stolen goods usually know a lot about the city."
His expression brightened slightly.
"A useful person to ask questions."
…
"Master, if I may remind you…"
An elderly man approached slowly through the Batcave.
His hair was gray, his posture straight, and his butler uniform looked as immaculate as ever. Wisdom and experience lined his face, but his movements remained precise.
On a polished silver tray rested a glass of iced coffee.
"Above this cave," Alfred said calmly, "there is still a building called Wayne Manor."
Bruce Wayne didn't even turn around.
"Of course, Alfred."
He accepted the coffee and took a sip before continuing to operate the computer.
"How could I forget something so simple?"
"But since your return," Alfred continued gently, "you have been hiding down here and haven't visited the manor even once."
A trace of helpless concern appeared in the old man's eyes.
"I have a lot on my mind, Alfred," Bruce said quietly.
"There are many urgent matters."
He continued typing commands.
The computer hacked into Gotham National Bank's internal systems, downloading withdrawal records in search of clues. One record quickly caught Bruce's attention.
The bank card used during the robbery belonged to a small Gotham gang leader.
The problem was—
That man had been dead for more than a year.
Bruce opened the police report.
Cause of death: broken neck.
Location: the gang's temporary headquarters.
Alongside the leader's body were more than a dozen other gang members.
Some had died from catastrophic brain injuries.
Bruce frowned.
"The Hyena Gang…"
Several surviving members had been left alive but reduced to permanent vegetative states.
At roughly the same time, dozens of other gangsters across Gotham had died from similar brain trauma.
Aside from that, nothing.
The trail simply ended.
"Master," Alfred said quietly, "I understand how you feel."
He bowed slightly.
"But you're moving too quickly, and it worries me."
"In 1840, your ancestor Solomon Wayne invested in the construction of Gotham's first industrial districts," Alfred continued. "That laid the foundation for the city's prosperity."
He paused.
"But none of it happened overnight."
"Rome wasn't built in a day," Bruce said with a tired sigh.
Rubbing his temples, he finally spoke honestly to the man who had raised him.
"I survived near-death experiences and endured training that would break most people."
"I thought I was ready."
He stood up slowly.
"But when I returned to Gotham… I realized how much I'm still lacking."
"Infiltration, sabotage, assassination… those are very different from investigation and protection."
Bruce moved toward a workbench.
Picking up a polishing tool, he began sharpening a Batarang. Sparks flickered in his eyes as the metal edge gleamed brighter.
"I have advanced technology and powerful weapons," he said quietly. "But some things can't be replaced by machines."
"I need to become more precise."
"Stronger."
"Faster."
Like a bat in the night.
Silent. Invisible.
Striking with absolute accuracy.
Never missing.
"I'm afraid I must interrupt you, Master," Alfred said gently.
Bruce looked up.
"I don't know how long it will take you to become that person," Alfred continued, "but first you should protect what you already have."
"What do you mean?"
Bruce turned, puzzled.
"If things continue like this," Alfred said calmly, "the technology and weapons you rely on from Wayne Enterprises may soon no longer belong to you."
Bruce's eyes narrowed.
"William Earle has been managing your company during your disappearance," Alfred explained. "Recently his behavior has grown… unusual."
"As chairman of the board, he's lobbying other directors."
"For what?"
"To take Wayne Enterprises public."
Bruce's face darkened.
For most companies, going public meant opportunity.
For Wayne Enterprises—an institution that had existed alongside Gotham for nearly two centuries—the benefits were insignificant.
But there was one obvious result.
Once shares became public, ownership could be diluted.
And a certain missing man named Wayne could easily be pushed off the board.
"You're right, Alfred," Bruce said slowly.
He flicked the Batarang.
The blade spun through the air and struck the bullseye more than ten meters away with perfect accuracy.
"Maybe it's time Gotham learned something."
His eyes sharpened.
"The son of the Wayne family has returned."
…
Across the city, in a quiet alleyway paved with cracked brick and stone, a young girl walked lightly through the shadows.
She wore tight black jeans and a blue striped blouse. Her loose brown hair draped over her graceful neck like silk.
Behind a pair of plain square-framed glasses, bright intelligent eyes flickered with quiet amusement.
She looked like an ordinary college student who spent most of her time buried in textbooks.
No one would suspect a girl like that.
She slipped the stolen wallet into her shoulder bag and slid several pieces of jewelry into her pocket.
Then she examined the sapphire ring she had just taken.
Her eyes sparkled.
"The quality of this star sapphire…" she murmured happily.
She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose.
"It easily ranks in the top ten of my collection."
Today had clearly been her lucky day.
Who would have thought she'd stumble upon such a beautiful ring during a casual walk?
"Stealing isn't a very good habit."
A young man's voice suddenly sounded behind her.
The tone was calm and slightly amused.
Selina froze.
Like a startled cat, she quickly hid the ring and spun around.
"Who's there?"
[Nervousness from Selina Kyle +18...]
....
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