The City Hall protest was replayed in a loop. On the TV screen, protesters scattered as blue and black smoke swallowed the gathering. The camera switched angles. The Dark Knight knocked down three clowns near the public fountain while GCPD officers engaged with another group armed with knives and hammers.
"...More order. Gotham can't survive if those illegals keep slipping through the administration. They take our jobs, our resources, and feed the gang populace. Look where does that bring us..." A mayoral candidate spoke in a picture‑in‑picture window while the live feed showed an artistic car rolling in the chaos, someone on top holding a sawed-off shotgun.
Emma sat on the edge of the couch, fully clothed for worktime except for the coat. Her green eyes settled on the familiar bronze skin across her. Lena adjusted her posture straight, hands wrapped around a cold cup of tea.
"I haven't been here since... a while." Her gaze paused on the family photo. A man, gone. A woman, younger. And a son. Her throat tightened. The shadow at the animal shelter flashed in her mind. "Isaac. He, he has changed."
Emma barely smiled. "You've grown bigger than the small sprout I knew." She looked at the tv, twenty-two and five displayed at the top corner. "But, Isaac. Sometimes I can't recognize him."
"He used to smile more." Lena looked down.
Emma exhaled, her wrinkles gaining more weight. "Since Andrew..."
The sound of keys turning in the lock made both women freeze.
"Sorry for the late mom, lost my phone and got you..." Isaac closed the door when he saw the girls. "Lena, what are you doing here?" His grip strengthened over the bag's handles.
Lena stood up, but Emma went faster. Isaac's hood harbored a tear along one side, a smaller brother to the long rip running from his right shoulder down to the pocket. Her eyes welled up. "...The bandages and disinfectants are in the bathroom." She didn't need to see the color on the torso side.
She forced a smile and put on the coat hanging by the entrance. "I've already eaten, sweety." She reopened the entrance. "My shift at Playhouse Lantern... take care of Lena darling."
Her footsteps hurried down the stairs.
Lena stopped a few meters from him. The smell of greasy burgers filled the apartment. "Isaac..." Voice quieter than she wanted. "So, you like Superman now?"
He put the bags on the kitchen counter without looking at her. "Why are you here, Lena?"
She swallowed. "Marco said you..."
"Fuck Marco."
Lena took a small breath. She wasn't here to be angry. "I saw your backpack in the riot. I was worried." Her gaze met him, then the backpack on the floor. They had chosen it for its price and the missing metal buckle at that time.
He put the food on plates, one for him, one for her out of habit. Lena sat on the chair beside him, but didn't touch her burger.
Isaac took a mouthful. She watched him, then shook her head. "I can't believe it." She put the cup on the table.
"So what? See, I'm alive. You can go."
That intonation at the end was so familiar to Lena that she couldn't help but respond without thinking. "Are you still mad we broke up? Sorry. That, wasn't what I wanted to say. Sorry."
Isaac stopped eating. His guts twisted. She wasn't that pretty back then. Why had they drifted apart? The extra classes for engineer, the new highschool admission, the distance... or something else?
The TV program switched to a toothpaste commercial.
He finished his burger.
Lena pushed the plate away. Her back straightened. "Frank, it's about Frank." She noticed the red stains on his side and gloves. He was already on his feet. "I, what will you do if..." Lena instinctively stepped back. Her chair fell. "Let me go, Isaac. It hurts." She winced, voice shaking.
His breathing was heavy. After a second, he let go. He forced his breath to slow. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Tell me what about him."
"If I don't... will you hit me too? Like Marco?"
"I, no. I wouldn't..."
Lena held his gaze for a long moment. Her hazel eyes full of something he didn't want to face. "The Isaac I knew wouldn't..." She touched her arm, wincing. "But you?" Her voice dropped as she turned away.
"Lena, wait."
Only his voice lingered. He could stop her, pin her against the wall, and rip out the information, but his fingers loosened. He let her disappear through the doorway.
The football field was covered with a rare layer of white. Aquinas High School's team, the Holy Eagle, was running high-knees laps around the field to warm up for next week's competition. On the adjacent track lanes, the rest of the class was sprinting through their PE drills.
Five attempts in half an hour, and the stopwatch never dropped below eleven-thirty for Isaac. Six months ago, he couldn't even break thirteen.
Betty raised her arm. The moment she dropped it, Isaac started the timer. Betty sprinted the full hundred meters, but her muscles couldn't bear the effort, shorter steps and longer torso rotation. Twenty-two seconds, hands on her knees, she sat on the startup line.
On the other lanes, Marco struggled to keep pace with Jack while Simon led the pack. When the coach blew the whistle, PE was finally over, and the Holy Eagles got their ten minute break. Hand pressed to his bandaged sternum, Marco dragged himself toward the water fountain.
Isaac walked past him. Six minutes were enough for sprint recovery at full speed. Something he didn't have before. He stopped to drink a bit. Mineral tasted. On the side, a tan girl on a screen before it went black. Marco stiffened the moment he saw a reflection on his phone.
"I don't want trouble. Just... stay the fuck away from me, Stradaniya."
Isaac rinsed his mouth, one eye on Marco. "Then, keep your distance." He spat before leaving the field for the last class. In the middle of the room, Cassie and Betty complained that the new transfer student wasn't placed in their class even though they had room for a few more heads.
With a twenty five kilo cement bag in one hand and another one already a quarter empty, Isaac joined Silas on the cycle road linking the East Side to the northern area of Robinson Park. No direct light touched the teenagers gathered around a large pot filled with murky water as Isaac poured cement in small batches.
Dust rose in a pale cloud. The longer Silas stirred the mix, the more it turned into a smooth and homogeneous paste. The shovel scraped against metal in a steady rhythm. "For God's sake, just speak Isaac." Silas didn't look up.
Isaac crouched, fingers brushing cold metal. That wasn't like the trigger. He coughed, waving the dust away. "Yesterday... I messed up. I lost your gun."
Silas poured a bag of rusty iron and nails into the pot. Crunching sounds filled the pot. He exhaled.
"Not just the gun." His eyes stared into Isaac.
"I know." Isaac nodded. "I was so close... If only." His fist clenched.
"Even second-hand, a Taurus G3C goes for four hundred dollars." The pot tipped into a smaller bucket.
Isaac lowered his voice. "Sorry, I'll fix it."
"I got you a bulletproof vest, a gun, two magazines, and you still messed up?"
"I... I screwed everything up."
Standing up, Silas lifted the bucket filled almost to the limit. Arms stretched. "You did. But you're gonna make it right. You always do."
Isaac accepted the bucket. "I hope."
"You hope shit, commoner. Those holes won't fill themselves."
Shoulder muscles released the tension and emptied the bucket into one of the many holes in the road. The asphalt around it was jagged, like a wound that had never been chosen to heal.
Isaac smoothed the surface. A faint smile appeared on his face. "Aye, princess."
One ray of light finally pierced the tree canopy. After a quick check on his watch, Silas wiped his hands on his jeans, leaving gray streaks. "Isaac, Playhouse Lantern at ten." He put his trowel into the pot. "Don't mess up this time." He headed toward the Botanical Gardens.
A chill ran down Isaac's spine. He dipped the trowel back into the bucket and kept working.
Ten minutes before ten, Isaac stepped off a nearly empty bus. Its windows fogged from the breath of the few souls still riding at this hour gazed without seeing the Playhouse Lantern and the teen waiting, a foot against the wall. Inside, low bass in a slow rhythm vibrated through the walls. A touch of piano appeared when employees slipped out for a short pause, eyes scanning the street out of habit rather than fear.
Ten past ten and no Silas in view nor response from the new mobile and his SIM card. Another turn around the theater, no familiar face, just the trashbags against the walls and a couple of drunk bodies collapsed on the pavement. Maybe they had a better life once. Now the alcohol made them think the cold no longer existed.
"Playhouse Lantern at ten." Isaac closed his phone. "My ass." Midnight was creeping in.
Across the street, under a fading neon, a certain painted hair made Isaac's breathing accelerate. Green colored like their leader, a lone prey sprayed yellow smiles across bricks and window glasses. White and black makeup hid beneath the hooded jacket. His movements were too smooth, almost mechanical.
Isaac approached from behind. No reinforced gauntlet nor taser, just his hand bare, it was enough. The clown was only one person, and chances like this didn't come often. The spray hissed in a steady rhythm unaware of the footsteps closing in on the same sidewalk.
Hands slowly approached behind the clown's head, parallel to his neck but in the right hand near the left ear. In one breath, they wrapped around the neck. Isaac lowered his gravity center. Their backs collided. With a pull of the arm, he sent him flying over his shoulder. The body slammed hard against the concrete, echoing through the alley.
He didn't have time to choke him out. Isaac dragged him deeper in the alley, away from the streetlight. The moment his eyes entered the shadows, they caught a faint red glint. No matter how hard he clawed at the forearm, the grip didn't loosen. His scream barely formed before a trashbag drowned his mouth in rotten food scraps and a metal lid impacted his forehead.
Isaac kicked the clown in the ribs. The body twitched. One eye rolled, struggling to focus. He slapped the face. The clown gagged, vomiting thin bile across his own jacket. After another slap, his face reddened but with more spirit in his gaze. "Frank Miler" Isaac muttered, face hidden.
The clown's hand tapped the ground. "Hhey...hey, easy! Easy! I'm just painting smiles, man!" He let out a shaky laugh.
Isaac frowned. The metal lid didn't hit the face this time but the groin and a new trashbag blocked the mouth. Tears enlarged the black makeup on the white part.
"Try again."
"I don't know shit... please let me go."
Isaac stared down at him, useless. Same as the others, behind the court, near the docks, a low level trash who held no concrete details. His hand snapped forward, slamming the clown's head against the ground. "Where do you regroup?"
"Amusement Mile... that's... that's where we hang when Mister J's quiet, alright? Let me go..."
"Which spot?"
The clown coughed. "The Old Ferris Wheel, no... wait, the Funhouse yes. That's it, the Funhouse. Don't, don't hit me. Please."
Isaac didn't move. His hand slipped into his pocket. At first, the clown trembled, but his eye widened seeing a vial of pure red in a syringe. His breathing spiraled.
"...No. No, ho no... You're insane. That's Rage Juice."
Something cut the air. Isaac barely noticed flying metal in his direction, some had hacked on the ground in front of him. In less than a second, the fifth one had reached his foot level. The moment the next one almost planted against his tibia, a flesh and clothes barrier stopped them.
The clown screamed when his metal pierced his skin and muscles.
Throwing away his meat shield, Isaac noticed the newcomers.
Batman and a smaller figure.
"Wait... I know you?" The smaller figure with a large 'R' on his chest readied another batarang salve. His eyebrows lit up. "The wanna be vigilante."
Isaac crouched, one hand grabbing the trashbin lid. "Batman." He gritted his teeth and stepped back, avoiding a batarang. "And... Robert?"
"What? No, I'm."
"Not now." Batman lifted his arm to stop both Isaac from fleeing and Robin from attacking. He gazed at the clown and nodded toward the street. The clown smiled, unnatural. Tried to stand up but fell. He crawled over one meter before his legs found strength to stagger away. Before disappearing, he cast one last, but grateful glance at the Dark Knight, as if he had just been released from not just this fight.
"Don't you have other dogs to kick? A nobody like me, really?"
Irregular thuds echoed in the distance.
Batman stared at the red vial, then at the teen. "Andrew..." His voice remained calm.
"He was just a regular employee. Not a criminal." Isaac's eyes narrowed.
"Andrew... your father" Batman sounded softer. "He was a good engineer... at Wayne Company."
Isaac laughed. Was, he was, that wasn't real. "Stop, he's not dead."
Robin shrugged. "Missing for months, no corpse... Sound dead to me."
"You!" Isaac threw the metal lid.
Like a blur, it closed the distance in one instant. Robin's finger clenched it before it touched his face but the strength behind it forced him to tilt his head and the lid escaped his grasp. It hit the wall and one centimeter of its edge flattened. Batman glanced at Robin and the metal lid. "What? He ain't the only orphan in this city."
Batman stepped closer, eyes fixed on Isaac. "Don't let anger break your future isaac."
"What future? Even perfect grades won't stop a bullet."
"I've met a girl... Someone like you. She wanted revenge and to kill her father." He paused. Under his helmet, morse code beeped an urgent flag, multiple hostile units getting closer to their position. "Thought she had no one to turn to. But I refused." His hands made two signs. Robin nodded with the slighest move.
Isaac pressed his lips. That's it? No explanation, no argument? His shoulder creaked. "Why?"
"You can't be judge, jury, and executioner."
"Bullshit." Isaac's voice cracked.
The needle pressed against his skin. He knew one against two was hard. Without weapons and against professionals he had no chance. Only this red treasure might help. The metal penetrated with no resistance. A new liquid filled the veins. Fire bloomed under his skin.
Batman shouted. Robin sprinted. One sixth was injected. A batarang deviated the syringe, the metal traced a red line over the arm, stopping the injection. The alley darkened. Black smoke escaped from pellets on the ground. Thudding vibration ran through the alley.
Isaac tanked a fist to his abdomen. His arm trembled. The pain was there, manageable. He threw a hook toward Robin's shin. The knuckles missed the main target but with its speed it crushed the upper right pectoral. The metal plate under the armor screamed as it absorbed the impact.
Muffled voices and clinking of chains reached the street at the same time a window at the third-floor slammed shut.
From an angle he didn't see, Batman's leg shot out in a sweeping kick, knocking Isaac off balance.
Robin pounced immediately, landing atop him, fists raining toward his face. Isaac raised an arm to block, but he couldn't shake the smaller figure without a stable hold. He needed more strength. His ears deafened. He reached for the syringe, attempting to inject the remaining Rage Juice.
His heart beat faster. The syringe deviated. Not landing on his arm, but on Robin's thigh. A mistake seared the remaining liquid into the wrong person. Robin recoiled from the unexpected injection. Isaac fist grabbed the utility belt as a lever to slammed Robin on the ground. A small hole was carved under his elbow.
Shadows flickered across the walls, cast by shapes entangled with the Dark Knight through the smoke. A hand lifted Isaac out of the combat zone. A familiar redhead. He cast one last glance on the convulsing figure glued to the concrete.
Silas watched Robin one second longer than Isaac.
Green slime stuck a man half on the ground half on a trashbin. Batman avoided a punch but a knee hurt his back while a baseball bat missed his leg. Electricity ran through his cap, deflecting a blade and electrocuting a fourth assaulter.
Isaac jumped avoiding a body sent his way. He ran along Silas but grabbed a trashbin in one hand. Using the speed and a rotation, he forced his leg and arm to swing like a whip the projectile which flew in the air straight at Batman's head. He lowered his center of gravity for a second. It was enough for the man in green slime to clench dark boots to his own chemical prison.
The alley left the night behind them.