Lucius adjusted his glasses as he laid out the information with calm precision. The object in question was not some ordinary prototype or experimental gadget. It was a large-scale weapon originally designed for battlefield deployment—a microwave generator capable of producing concentrated electromagnetic radiation.
"At full output," Lucius explained, "the generator can emit powerful microwave beams capable of heating water molecules at extreme temperatures. In practical terms, it can evaporate an enemy's water supply within minutes."
He spoke matter-of-factly, but the implications hung heavy in the air.
Lucius had been working deep within the underground levels of the company's research division for years. During that time, William Earle had paid him little attention, leaving him buried in technical projects with minimal oversight. That had changed abruptly a few days ago when Earle suddenly requested a detailed report about the microwave generator and everything related to it.
Bruce Wayne leaned back slightly in his chair, brows tightening as he considered the weapon's purpose.
"Water source?" he repeated quietly.
Lucius nodded. "At first glance, losing something like this might not seem catastrophic. It's not a nuclear weapon or a missile system. But the fact that someone went to such lengths to steal it suggests their intentions are far from simple."
His voice dropped slightly.
"The cargo ship transporting the generator was attacked. Every crew member aboard was killed."
Bruce's eyes sharpened immediately.
"Any leads?" he asked.
Lucius shook his head slowly. "The bodies were never recovered. Investigators believe they were dumped into the ocean to eliminate evidence." He paused before sliding a photograph across the table. "However, something was discovered at the scene."
Bruce picked up the photo.
A single weapon was embedded in the metal bulkhead of the cargo ship. It was a dart-like projectile, small but deadly, its edges stained with dried blood.
The moment Bruce saw its design, his pupils shrank.
Lucius studied his reaction carefully. "You recognize it?"
Bruce didn't answer immediately. His expression shifted subtly, something complicated flickering in his eyes.
"I'll try to have someone investigate the matter," he said at last.
Lucius noticed the deliberate vagueness but didn't press further.
Of course Bruce recognized it.
Many of the techniques he had mastered during his years of training had originated from a place hidden deep within the mountains—a place where discipline was forged through ruthless methods and ancient traditions.
The League of Shadows.
In that place he had endured relentless trials meant to strip away weakness and rebuild a warrior capable of reshaping the world. Their teachings were brutal, their philosophy uncompromising. Justice, to them, meant cleansing corruption through destruction.
But when the League demanded he prove his devotion by executing a criminal and leading their forces to purge Gotham through chaos, Bruce refused. Instead, he ignited the explosives hidden within their stronghold and destroyed the entire base before escaping into the night.
He had believed that chapter of his life was over.
Now, staring at the photograph of the bloodstained dart, Bruce realized the past was not so easily buried.
"It looks like this isn't finished yet," he murmured.
Holding the photo in his hand, he felt as if he could already smell the damp scent of earth carried by the wind before a storm. His gaze turned sharp and distant.
…
Downtown Gotham, Burnley District.
Manchester Restaurant.
The establishment was one of the most prestigious restaurants in the entire city. Its clientele consisted almost entirely of Gotham's wealthy elite—corporate executives, celebrities, politicians, and the occasional underworld figure dressed in expensive suits.
Soft violin music drifted through the dining hall, blending with the quiet murmur of conversation. Crystal chandeliers cast warm golden light across polished floors and elegant décor.
At a small table near the window on the second floor, Victor Kent sat across from Selina Kyle.
From their vantage point, they could easily observe the restaurant below. The gleaming marble floor reflected the silhouettes of guests moving through the lobby, and the wide windows made it possible to see nearly everything happening on both levels.
Victor glanced around the luxurious dining room with mild curiosity before returning his attention to Selina.
"This is where you chose to exchange information?"
Selina shrugged casually, resting one elbow on the table.
"The people you asked me to investigate aren't ordinary criminals. If they catch even a hint that someone's looking into them, it won't matter where the meeting happens. They'll track you down like bloodhounds and tear you apart."
She spread her hands lightly.
"If we're lucky and they don't notice, we could just as easily make the exchange in the middle of the street."
Victor studied her expression.
There was no sign of nervousness.
Only calm confidence.
For a brief moment he wondered whether she was still annoyed about the threat he had made earlier and had deliberately chosen an extravagant location just to empty his wallet before delivering the information.
He had glanced at the menu earlier.
One meal here cost more than what an average family might earn in an entire year.
Selina leaned back slightly and examined the elegant interior with open curiosity.
"To be honest," she said, "I've always wanted to eat here at least once. Never had the chance before."
The East End of Gotham—the neighborhood where she grew up—was a place few people escaped from easily. Crime Alley, the infamous street where Bruce Wayne's parents had been murdered years ago, lay deep within that same district.
Selina had acquired many valuable items throughout her career as a thief. Yet she had always believed that drawing too much attention was dangerous for someone in her line of work.
Buzz—
A sudden roar echoed from outside the building.
The high-pitched engine of a sports car cut through the quiet evening like a blade.
Diners near the windows instinctively turned their heads to look down at the street.
A sleek silver sports car with an exaggerated aerodynamic body had pulled up in front of the restaurant. Its design was striking enough to capture attention instantly.
The driver's door opened.
A tall young man in a tailored suit stepped out.
The restaurant waiter hurried toward the entrance, his eyes glued to the vehicle as if magnetized by its polished curves.
"That car is incredible," the waiter muttered in amazement.
Bruce Wayne offered a casual smirk.
"That's nothing," he replied. "I have an even better one."
The two-seat sports car was not empty. Two glamorous models were seated in the passenger side, their presence drawing additional attention from curious onlookers.
Bruce straightened his suit jacket and extended a hand to help them step out, playing the perfect gentleman.
The three of them entered the restaurant together and made their way upstairs.
"Mr. Wayne!"
The moment people recognized him, greetings erupted from several tables.
Some guests smiled warmly. Others approached with eager enthusiasm, their voices tinged with barely concealed flattery.
"Wayne's son has returned to Gotham," Selina said quietly, watching the spectacle from across the room. "Turn on the television today and you'll barely find any news that isn't about him."
Her tone carried a complicated mixture of admiration and irony.
"Must be nice," she added softly. "Some people are born with everything."
Victor glanced at her.
He knew fragments of Selina's past.
Her mother, Maria Kyle, had been cold and distant, trapped in a bitter marriage and more interested in caring for stray cats than raising her daughter. One day she took her own life, leaving Selina behind in a shattered household.
Her father had descended into alcoholism soon afterward. Seeing Selina reminded him too much of the wife he had lost, and he treated the girl with cruel resentment until his drinking eventually killed him.
After that, Selina had been left alone in the world. She wandered the streets for a time before authorities eventually placed her in an orphanage.
Victor briefly considered pointing out that Bruce Wayne's childhood had not been as perfect as it appeared.
But somehow the thought felt like weak consolation.
Not far away, at another table on the second floor, several board members of Wayne Enterprises were gathered for a dinner hosted by William Earle.
"Bruce, you're here?"
Earle's expression froze for a moment when he saw Bruce strolling in with two models on his arms. A flicker of disdain passed through his eyes before he concealed it behind a polite smile.
Fortunately, he thought bitterly, the man's reputation for reckless indulgence remained intact. Convincing the board to doubt Bruce's capabilities might not be as difficult as he had feared.
"Mary, over here!"
Near the staircase, Selina suddenly waved toward a woman approaching from the entrance.
The newcomer was dressed boldly, her clothes designed to draw attention rather than avoid it. As she climbed the stairs, she pushed her sunglasses down slightly and cast a curious glance at Victor.
Seeing the tall, composed young man sitting beside Selina, she smiled with playful charm before sliding into the empty seat.
"This is what you wanted."
She placed a brown paper envelope on the table and pushed it toward Selina.
Victor frowned slightly.
The woman's pupils looked unfocused, and her posture suggested she had been drinking earlier.
Could information from someone like this really be reliable?
"Why don't you stay and eat something?" Selina suggested casually after Victor paid for the information. "Dinner's already on the table."
Mary shook her head immediately.
"No thanks," she said with a laugh. "I don't like the atmosphere here. Makes me uncomfortable."
She stood up and turned to leave.
Before walking away, she blew a teasing kiss toward Victor, amused by his expressionless face. Then she sauntered down the stairs without a trace of regret.
Selina picked up the envelope and handed it to him.
"Mary's one of Gotham's professional middlemen," she explained. "Her information network isn't glamorous. It comes from waiters, pickpockets, homeless people, street kids, nightclub dancers, addicts hiding in alleys, and the occasional crooked cop."
She tapped the envelope lightly.
"But her information is usually very reliable. In fact, a lot of it is firsthand."
Victor nodded slowly.
The most effective spies were often those people everyone saw every day but never truly noticed.
He looked toward the staircase where Mary had disappeared.
"You said the information involves a dangerous gang boss," he said thoughtfully. "She didn't seem afraid at all."
Selina shrugged as if the answer were obvious.
"That's Gotham."
Outside the restaurant windows, faint sirens echoed somewhere in the distance.
"Police cars screaming through the streets. Glass shattering. People screaming. Laughter coming from dark alleys." Her voice carried quiet resignation. "There are so many things here worth being afraid of that if you tried to fear them all, you wouldn't have time to live."
Victor opened the envelope and began reading the documents inside.
"It looks like the food I ordered will only be enjoyed by me," Selina joked lightly as she began eating.
They sat together in the corner near the window.
Selina enjoyed the expensive meal with elegant ease while Victor silently studied the information he had purchased.
Seeing Bruce Wayne here again was unexpected, but he had no interest in approaching him.
Batman was not someone Victor wanted to associate with too closely.
Even if he could provide considerable mood points.
....
Join my P*atreon for 100 premium chapters ahead of the public release.
Link: pa*treon.com/MysticVerse (Remove the *)
Free members also get 2 advanced chapters for free.