100YoP Chapter Fifteen "... Murphy's a bitch." (Patreon)

Consciousness came with the kindness and velvet touch of a truck to the face.

I jerked awake, which lead to the discovery that no one had had the kindness to remove the chunks of woods stuck in my body, or reset my shoulder, or apply any kind of medical attention to me. So the flinch with which I awoke aggravated everything, and pain flooded my mind.

I started screaming, and found it muffled by a gag that someone had put in my mouth. My one working arm tried to move, and it jostled my left arm as I discovered they were both tied with rope to the chair.

So they couldn’t patch me up but they had the time to tie me up when I’m practically invalid? A very offended part of my brain thought.

The rest of me thought, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH FUCK THIS HURTS!

Except, y’know, in Spanish.

Eventually, it died down to only hurting like hell, and I blinked through the tears to look at the situation.

I was in an almost empty room with bare concrete walls and two windows opposite me. Through them I could see the room was in the second or third level of a building. The chair I was sitting on, a different chair next to me and I were the only occupants of the room, stuck right in the middle. A single bare lightbulb hung from the ceiling.

Oh my God, I thought, I’m in a shitty horror movie set.

I shook my head and kept looking around, trying to find anything that could help me. My legs were tied to the chair, and I didn’t have the leverage to tear my way out, even if just breathing didn’t aggravate my injuries. Drool started gathering in my mouth from the ball of cloth that’d been shoved in, making it uncomfortably wet on top of making my jaw ache. My head was ringing from pain, dehydration and abuse.

And also maybe a minor concussion.

This is getting me nowhere, I thought, shaking my head to clear it and only gaining new levels of nausea. Priority one is getting the fuck out. Then I can run away, meet up with the girls, and finally get some medical attention.

I nodded confidently at my plan, then sat there in silence for a moment.

... so how the fuck am I gonna get outta this one?

I tried tearing my legs away, or breaking my arm free, but the lack of leverage and damage to my body made it all impossible. Still, I managed to move the chair slightly, which gave me an idea.

Slowly, centimeter by centimeter, I took little seated hops that dragged me towards the nearest window. Once I was against it, I looked down and saw that I was only two floors up. Twisting my head painfully let me a spot dumpster under the window next to the one I’d hopped to.

Giving a sigh, I jerked my body back and upwards, trying to move to it. At one point the chair started tipping backwards, but I managed to throw my weight forward and keep from getting stuck on my back like a fucking turtle or something.

Eventually, I got to the right window, then measured my placement relative to the window. Sitting down, the bottom of it was just a big higher than my hip. So, theoretically speaking, there was a chance I could break the window, tip the chair over and fall on it to break it and thus be free.

Only problem with that is that this is a second story building, I thought. And then I did my best to shrug, Ah, fuck it. Not that big a fall, and I have fucking superpowers. Worst thing that can happen is probably just me dislocating my other arm, or a leg. I could still crawl away after that, right? Right.

I tipped the chair back away from the window, then pushed my weight forward to crack against the window. A spiderweb of cracks immediately formed, but the glass was still standing.

Far from discouraged, I leaned away again—

The door slammed open and someone shouted, “The fuck are you doing?!”, making me give a muffled scream and fall sideways on the chair.

Which of course meant that I fell on my left side, jostling my dislocated arm and making me scream even more. I heard some cussing, then two sets of hands dragged me upright and back to the middle of the room as I regained the capacity for coherent thought.

“... stubborn fucker, though,” one of the people dragging me noted. “Who tries to jump out of a window with a fucked up arm?”

“Guess Big Man was right to worry about him,” the other guy said. “Not that it’s gonna help him any now, though.”

They left, probably having been called by the noise of me moving the chair and banging against the window. I waited a few seconds, then started hopping the chair again with renewed fervor.

Already know where I gotta go, so I just need to go as fast as possible and—

I was halfway there when the door opened, and this time a dead man stepped through.

It didn’t take me that long to reconcile the fact that Namond fucking Little, who’s funeral was still fresh in my mind, walked through the door and gave me the same annoyed look he used to give me when I made too many questions.

I stared at him for a moment, frowned, and started doing my best to cuss him out through the gag in my mouth. Rage, great anesthetic that it is, helped me ignore the pain a bit as I shifted in place, trying to get loose enough to put my foot up his ass.

“Missed you too, kid,” Namond said, “You’ve been real busy.”

He was quite a bit shorter than me, maybe a meter and seventy centimeters. Thickly built, and he’d gained a lot of stick-and-poke tattoos since the last time I saw him. His head was shaved smooth, and there was a scar that stretched out the side of his mouth in a Glasgow Grin.

Except for the tattoos and scar, he wasn’t too different from the last time I’d seen him alive. He even still favoured Adidas tracksuits like he was fucking Russian.

I stopped cussing him out and just stared, then shook my head and raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m sure you got questions, but the problem is that I don’t really care,” he said. “Unfortunately, I got questions for you, so I’mma take off the gag. If you scream or bite me, so help me God, I will break my foot off on your ass.”

I glared at him, then gave a slow nod.

He reached behind my head, undid the knot, and drew his hand back as I shook my head spat out the ball of cloth that’d been forced in my mouth. Then I spat the excess saliva that’d gathered in my mouth to the side and looked at him.

He looked back at me.

I kept staring.

He raised an eyebrow.

I said, “Bitch.”

He slapped me. My head didn’t move a millimeter, but he seemed to draw satisfaction from the act.

“Right, with the pleasantries out of the way...” he grabbed the empty chair and sat in front of me. “What did Butcher buy for you at the auction?”

I blinked, but kept my reactions subtle and refused to answer. Instead, I said, “Why’d you fake your death?”

“Answer the question,” he said.

“Fuck you, answer mine,” I said. “In fact, how did you even organize all these schmucks into— oh. Oh, I get it, you had someone at the auction yourself.”

The explanation made sense. I’d long since guessed that some of the factions brought into his had been strong-armed into it. The offer of powers to some, like Candy, could work as the proverbial carrot to counteract the threat of using those same empowered lieutenants against unwilling factions, which’d be the stick.

“Actually I went on my own, like a grown-ass adult should,” he sneered. “Not all of us need to hide behind someone else.”

Why the fuck is he so mad at me? I wondered. We’d gotten along fine when I worked for him, I didn’t understand why he was being such an asshole, or why he ordered me killed.

But damn if I wasn’t going to use it. This was an opportunity to get some information out of the innards of his army, assuming I lived through the experience. Besides, it clued me onto the fact that he’d broken out beforefaking his death, somehow.

So I gotta annoy him into spilling things, but not enough that he kills me, I thought. Really wish I were better at coming up with plans.

I forced myself to give him a smile, saying, “Aw, baby, what’s wrong? So long you don’t see me and this is how we talk?”

He sneered, “Not like I missed you. Going to jail was almost worth it to be free of your annoyin’ ass.”

Ouch. “The fuck did I do to you, Namond? We weren’t boys or anythin’, but I don’t remember you bein’ this much of an asshole.”

He laughed, “Oh, am I a little bitter? You think maybe it has somethin’ to do with the eight years I spent in jail while you got every opportunity and threw it away for no goddamn reason?!”

“Excuse you?” I said, “The fuck are you sayin’? What opportunities?!”

“I kept an ear out in Blackgate. Tried to stay connected,” He leaned forward. “Last I heard, you were James’ go-to muscle for a long while. And then you left.”

“Blackgaters were just usin’ me,” I said, “I needed a job with less chance of gettin’ killed doing somethin’ stupid.”

“So you started workin’ for supervillains?”

“... it makes sense in context.”

“Right. And then that bitch that follows you everywhere makes a goddamned union, and you start building something worthwhile, and then you just leave again.”

“Is there a point to this?”

“You just don’t see it,” he said, sounding amazed. “Motherfucker, you got everything handed out to you, and you just kept throwing it away! The fucking Butcher of Crime Alley him-fucking-self was looking out for you, and you acted like it was nothin’!”

“Handed to me?!” I laughed, though there was no humor in it. “Is that what this is all about? Jealousy?!”

“No, Sam,” he said. “This is about me getting what I’m owed.”

“No one’s owed anything, jackass,” I said.

“I am. I slaved away for that jackass Russ, I worked those corners, and for what?! What did any of them do for me?!” A bit of spittle flew out of his mouth and landed on my face, making me grimace. “I lived on my fucking knees for them, and as soon as some bitch cried about what I’d done, I was told to take the fucking fall.”

“That’s the game, stupid,” I said. “We both know the only way to rise is to stand on your own.”

He stretched his hands out, gesturing to our surroundings. “Exactly.”

I glared at him for a second, then raised my chin in a challenge. “What’s this got to do with me? Why the fuck did you send some of Russ’ people after me?”

He looked at me, rubbed his chin, then leaned back, looking away.

“I could say that it was because I saw you at my funeral, talking with Russ,” he said. “I could say that it was because I couldn’t afford you running around with some powers I don’t know, waiting your turn to start some shit. But the truth?”

He turned to look at me. “I was just acting on a thought I’d had since I met your arrogant ass.”

I blinked, then leaned back myself.

He continued, “Always asking questions, always standing away from the group. Like you were better than us. Always giving us shit if we touched some bitch, or if we took someone’s shit because they weren’t in the game or sumethin’. I was so fucking sick of you. And when I found out I finally had a reason? Shit, I took the chance.”

I inhaled, sighed, and hung my head.

“What, you sad, bitch?”

“Sad for you, asshole,” I said, lifting my head to look him in the eye. “All that energy spent hating me, when most of the time I ain’t even think of you.”

His eyes twitched, but he hid it and clicked his tongue. “You always were quick.”

“Not what your mom said.”

He punched me in the face. This time I did feel it, but it only made my nose kinda ache.

“So it’s some kinda toughness?” he mused, rubbing his knuckles. “That could be useful...”

“If you think I’m gonna work for you, asshole, you’ve got another thing comin’,” I said, taking a second to snort then spit out a loogie at his feet.

“Oh, far from it, Sammy.”

“It’s Samuel.”

“See, it took a lot of effort, making this army,” he continued, ignoring me olympically. “Organizing everything from inside Blackgate, getting the money together for the auction... so I figured I was owed a little reward, no?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a little vial of... black... goo...

No fucking way. I thought. With my powers and all, I knew there were things around that didn’t necessarily mesh with what little memories I had left of the DC Universe, but this... could it be?

“Oh, you remember this from the listin’?” Namond smiled, mysinterpreting my shock. “Based off that Parasite dude, lets me steal one person’s superpowers and keep ‘em forever. Good shit.”

I swallowed nervously, and he reveled in the reaction, spinning the vial in his fingers.

“Originally, I planned to take a lil’ trip down to Metropolis and pay Superman a visit, but unfortunately it only works with metahumans,” he sighed, “What a disappointment. But there’s someone I’ve had my eye on for a while now that would be a good consolation prize.

“A good general powerset, a real pain in my ass, and wouldn’t you know it, he’s pretty tough too...” he smiled at me. “So how about you answer my fucking question and tell me, did Butcher buy you the Spider powers?”

I stared at him for a moment. It was one of those moments where shock leads you to total clarity of thought and does away with all the metaphorical clutter and leaves you with a single thought. In my case, that thought was ‘the worst has already happened, he knows, he’s just driving it in’.

With that in mind, my course of action was clear.

“Congrats,” I said. “You made it so subtlety is no longer an option.”

He blinked in confusion, and that was all he got to do before a burst of Venom Sting blew apart the ropes holding my right arm and most of the chair.

The resulting explosion of chair and bondage hurt me, but at this point my only focus was lunging forward and putting my hand around his throat, letting my weight tip the chair backwards and leave me straddling him as I strangled the life out of him with superhuman force.

He tried to slam his hands on my one working hand, but it failed to even budge. Then he punched my dislocated shoulder, which did make me grit my teeth and cuss in pain, but I didn’t let up. I had to crush his throat, no matter anything else, he was too dangerous to—

The problem with my Spidey Sense is that it’s only as useful as your capacity to process the sudden buzzing in your head and what it means. Not to mention that the sensation in itself is quite distracting and does nothing to help you detect what is a danger to you.

But maybe I’m just making excuses as to why I flinched away too late to keep the vial Namond broke on the floor from stabbing into my side, letting the parasite into my system.

I looked down in shock, seeing black spread under my skin from the wound, then up at Namond.

He smiled at me, the fucker.

I threw a punch at his face, intending to put enough force behind it to explode his skull (like I should have done from the beginning (stupid, stupid, stupid)) but a wave of nausea hit me halfway through, and the punch came with a loose wrist, only succeeding in breaking his nose.

The pain in my side increased, and I tipped over backwards, hitting the back of my head on what was left of the chair I’d been tied to. I bent forward and screamed as the goddamned parasite crawled its way through my body, my body starting to shake and break out in a cold sweat.

“Man,” Namond said in a hoarse voice, “That looks like it hurts like a bitch.”

He stood up, raised a foot, then stomped down on my balls, making me cry out again. He ground his foot in place for a second before raising his foot again and putting it on my shoulder, pushing me back against the chair.

I panted for a second, then forced myself to smile up at him. “And here I was, paying your mom to treat me the same way.”

“Motherfucker, you really don’t know when to shut up, do you?” he said, before bringing his foot back and kicking me in the chin.

The room spun around me and the sound of the chair scraping back rang in my head like I’d stuck it in a church bell, and of course this bothered my goddamned dislocated fucking arm a-goddamned-gain. I was so distracted by all the accumulated pain that I barely noticed when Namond tore out the vial and stuck his finger in the wound.

I did feel, however, the feeling of my blood getting pushed out along with the parasite. I lifted my head and saw with wide eyes how tendrils of black tar crawled up his arm, covering more and more skin and entering every pore.

It crawled under his clothes, leaving him with the odd appearance of a humanoid mass of black pseudo-flesh wearing a red goddamned Adidas tracksuit.

The parasite crawled up to his face, entering his mouth, fixing his nose as it covered it, and entering his eyes by the sides before they were covered.

I think I saw fear in them before they were covered.

He stood there for a moment, a statue of pulsating alien flesh, before two stark white eyes opened and looked down at me. And then a slit opened and showed a wide mouth with teeth as long as my fingers, curved in a wide, gleeful grin.

“God, is this what it feels like to be you?” He asked, and his voice had a strange echo to it, like multiple people talking at once. “No wonder you’re such a cocky asshole.”

I tried to make another smartass comment, but I worried that if I opened my mouth I would throw up and choke on my own vomit. The room had gone from spinning to tilting and I was pretty sure it was slowly getting tinted red. It felt like it took genuine effort just to breathe, and my body felt heavy, weak and feverish.

Namond reached forward, lifted me with one hand, then threw me through the room, smashing me through the chair.

Mercifully, I think I blacked out for a second or two, because when I came to Namond was talking and walking over to me, and I was surrounded by the splintered remains of the chair with the top of my head against the wall, staring at the blood that pooled on the floor from where it dripped out of... well, I don’t know which facial wound it was dripping out of.

“—and make this city heel,” Namond was saying as I tuned back in. “I’m goin’ to do what you should have done when you had the chance, Sammy.”

I tilted my head back and looked up at him, and he grinned again with those big fucking teeth. He crouched over me, grabbed the collar of my shirt, and lifted me up to hold me with my back against the wall.

He cocked a fist back and said, “This is going to be sweet.”

Then he punched me, my head flew to the side, one of my molars left my mouth, and I realized that if he hit me like that again I was going to fucking die.

His fist cocked back again, and with some resignation I looked at him. I drew a breath, took a second to decide, and settled on facing death with open eyes.

I made eye contact, tilted my chin upwards, and forced myself to give a smirk that I really wasn’t feeling.

It turned a bit more genuine when his smile turned into a frown and he told me, “You got a way of ruinin’ everythin’, Reyes.”

A wet chuckle escaped me, and I waited for the hit to come.

My head felt blissfully empty, to my surprise. There was some regret that I’d leave everyone with matters unsettled, sure, but I was secure in the knowledge that I’d done my best at every given moment, even in those times when my best kinda sucked.

In that moment, I realized I was at peace with myself. Which was nice in a zen sort of way, but I would’ve preferred not to need to be at peace with my own death in the first place.

The fist zoomed for my head, I thought ‘Sorry, Cass’, and then it crashed through the wall next to my head when we both got startled by the sounds of a gunfight beneath us.

“What the hell?!” he asked, but I didn’t bother questioning it.

I’d learnt to take my chances as they came, and in this case it came as a distracted Venom-looking asshole standing right within range.

The problem with my Spidey Sense is that it’s only as useful as your capacity to process the sudden buzzing in your head and what it means. Not to mention that the sensation in itself is quite distracting and does nothing to help you detect what is a danger to you.

Plus, if you don’t even know that you have a Spidey Sense, leave alone what it feels like, it’s actually more of a danger to you than anything else.

For example, Namond standing there like an idiot with his hand through a wall while I grabbed a chunk of chair and put it through his fucking eyeball.

He screamed in pain, tearing his hand out of the wall and falling backwards to clutch at his face, black and red blood dripping on the floor.

Being well-acquainted with the concept of folding a losing hand, I did my best to stand. It took a while, considering that there wasn’t a single cubic millimeter of my body that wasn’t in absurd amounts of pain and that my limbs felt simultaneously heavy as lead and weak as styrofoam.

I forced myself to my feet, then stumbled around Namond’s writhing body (though I took a tiny pause to spit a glob of blood on him on the way out), then forced the door open.

There were two guards standing there, hands on their guns, and they turned around as soon as I opened the door.

We stared at each other for a moment.

“... Murphy’s a bitch,” I muttered.

I didn’t have time to make my peace with my own mortality a second time, since a beacon of light shone through the other side of the hallway. Two spears of light broke out of it and smashed into the two guards’ backs, sending them sprawling to the floor.

My eyes adjusted to the light, and I smiled as I saw Golden standing there with wide, worried eyes.

“Hey,” I whispered, stumbling forward a little.

In a flash, she was there to catch me, wrapping an arm around my more-or-less healthy shoulder and starting to drag me.

“You’re fine now, sir,” she said. “We’ll get you to safety.”

“‘We’?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Weaver’s voice cut in. “‘We’.”

I looked up and found Weaver aiming a TEC-9 in my direction. She pulled the trigger and I flinched, before I realized she was aiming at something behind Golden and I.

“REYES!” Namond screamed from behind the cover he was forced to take. “THIS ISN’T OVER! DO YOU HEAR ME?! THIS ISN’T OVER!”

Black flooded my vision, and my last thought before conciousness left me was No, no it isn’t.

{[X]}

Warmth was the first thing I recognized, opening my eyes to find myself sheathed in a halo of Yua’s golden power.

It was comfortable, if a little itchy, and I looked up at her with confusion.

“Sealing your wounds,” she explained. “It’s not much, but it keeps you from getting worse. Sorry I can’t do more.”

“You’re fine, Goldie,” I muttered. “Weaver?”

“I’m here, Boss.”

“... take us to Wayne Manor.”

“Wh— no! You need a hospital!”

“They got... better shit there,” I panted, already fading again. “This was a... last resource... just tell them I figured it out like Drake, that should help.”

Black flooded my vision again.

{[X]}

“— look, please, we’re desperate!”

I opened my eyes and saw my own feet dragging beneath me. I looked to the side and saw that Yua was dragging me, my arm wrapped around her shoulders again.

Looking forward showed Farah arguing with Alfred Pennyworth, who looked a little uncomfortable.

“Listen, miss, I wish I could help, but—” his eyes moved towards me and widened. “... is that...?”

“There’s records of the cave system in city hall,” I panted, making my two friends look at me with confusion and Pennyworth’s eyebrows shoot up. “The money for the gadgets had to come from somewhere, he has the motivation, the people match.”

“... you...” Alfred seemed to be truly speechless.

“I have important information,” I said, starting to hang heavier on Yua’s shoulder. “I wouldn’t ask... if it weren’t serious...”

Black flooded my vision again.

{[X]}

Lights behind a figure. Latex-covered fingers on my skin. The pleasant daze of drugs on my system.

“... your friend is quite stubborn.”

“We noticed.”

Black flooded my vision again.

{[X]}

Pain in my back cutting through the daze, but not sticking. I’m face down and looking to the side and I see two figures sitting on chairs, staring at me.

“I still can’t believe it. Bruce Wayne is Batman. How the hell did he know?”

“I’m wondering the same, to be honest. I’ll thank you not to spread it around on pain of death, ma’am.”

“Batman doesn’t kill.”

“And that’s jolly good for him, but I served in Her Majesty’s.” A pause, a chuckle, then, “And that was in my calmer days.”

“... got it.”

Black flooded my vision again.

{[X]}

A whirring sound and liquid being sucked through a straw.

“You’re even doing his dental?”

“I’m very thorough.”

“... his eye was all red and fucked up, too.”

“Subconjunctival hemorrhage. Nothing serious, it’ll fade within two weeks or so.”

Black flooded my vision again.

{[X]}

A tight pressure all around my body. The room’s spinning.

“... yes, Master Bruce. Recovering quite well. He should be in condition to speak by the time you finish your patrol.

Black flooded my vision again.

{[X]}

My eyelids opened through the crust, and a long, pained groan escaped me.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” I intoned, voice like the sound of an ancient crypt opening.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” a dry English voice. I tilted my head and saw Alfred Pennyworth walking up to me, holding a silver tray topped with a few prescription bottles. He was missing his jacket, but still had white gloves, making a peculiar figure as he approached me and handed me bottles, saying, “That’s for inflamation, this one is for the pain, and these are antibiotics.”

“... thanks,” I croaked, putting the bottles into my pocket and sitting up a little. My chest was wrapped in bandages that were already a bit stained through, and I could see bits of gauze in the corner of my vision. My mouth felt like it was full of cotton, but I couldn’t feel any, and my left arm was in a sling. “The girls?”

“I convinced them to try and catch some rest,” he said. “Master Wayne accepted my suggestion of letting them use two of the guest rooms for the night.”

“Thanks again, then,” I said. “Sorry to bother you, but, uh...”

“On the other side of the bed, sir.”

I turned and found a white plastic cup, full of water.

“You’re good,” I muttered, reaching over to grab it awkwardly.

“The best,” Alfred said, but I wasn’t paying attention because it was the best-tasting water I had ever tried. It took me a second to realize that it was because it was the first time in like eighteen years that I’d had water that didn’t taste like I was sucking the plumbing of half of Gotham. No innuendo intended. “I have a few questions for you.”

“Figured you would,” I said. “We waitin’ on Batman or...?”

“He should be here any moment,” said Alfred. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I can keep anything solid down right now.”

“A soup, then?”

“Sounds good, thanks.”

He came back a few minutes later, followed by Farah and Yua. The two looked exhausted, but they seemed to ignore it as they rushed around Alfred (almost making him drop my mug of soup) and stopped at my bedside, checking me over with worried expressions.

“Hey,” I said, smiling a little. “You two alright?”

“... have you looked at a mirror lately, dipshit?” asked Farah, though her expression showed real concern.

“I’ve been worse,” I pointed out. “Seriously, are you two fine? You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

“We’re fine, Boss,” said Farah, and I let out a sigh of relief. That would’ve been hell on my concience. “But are you okay?”

I looked down at myself, then at her. I gave her a genuine smile. “I’m fine. You guys really saved my ass. I owe you.”

“You shouldn’t have been in danger in the first place,” said Yua, seeming glum. “I failed you.”

“My mistakes are mine, Yua,” I said. “You did everything right, alright?”

She frowned, disbelieving, but accepted with a nod.

Choosing to file that for later, I took the mug from Alfred with a thankful nod and made myself comfortable. The mug said ‘World’s Greatest Grandma’, so I assumed it was his.

“I figure I got a lot to explain,” I said. “Can you guys wait until Batman gets here?”

“You won’t have to wait long,” Alfred drily noted, drawing our attention to a driveway on the other side of the cave. Before we saw anything, we heard a bassy rumble that echoed against the stone and acted as the harbinger for something I’d only ever seen once, when I met Batgirl.

A sleek, futuristic-looking car drove in, and the doors opened to let out Cass and the Dark Knight himself.

Before I could voice my confusion over why there were only two seats when there was a whole Batfam, Cass ran out of the car and rushed over, jumping straight over Farah and Yua’s head and landing on all fours over me.

“Jesus!” I cursed, not reacting in time to stop her from sitting on my lap and starting to lightly tap away at my body, checking me over hurriedly. “Cass—Cassie, c’mon, I’m fine— Hey, stop, th—hahaha—that shit tickles, stop!”

Once she was done checking me over, she breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back. Then she stared at me for a moment and shoved me lightly in the right shoulder.

“What?” I said. “The fuck did I do?”

She stared at me like I was an idiot, then shoved again, a little harder. She shoved me two more times and then gestured around at everything.

“Oh, yeah...” I cleared my throat. “Yeah, I figured it out. Sorry.”

[Because of me?] she signed.

“No! No, no, Cassie, no, this isn’t on you,” I took her hand, “I promise, I figured it out before we met.”

I couldn’t tell because she still had her mask on, but I think she blinked before tearing her hand out of my grip and signing, [And you didn’t tell me?!]

“I couldn’t find the right time!” I said. She started shoving me again and I tried to bat her hands away, “Ow, ow, c’mon, I’m injured here!”

“While I’m glad to see Cass socializing...” a deep voice cut in, “I think we need to talk.”

I looked up at Batman’s looming figure, realized I had his daughter on my lap, sighed, and nodded. “That we do. Cass?”

She got off of me, but not before giving me a last finger flick on the ear. Then she perched herself on the corner of the operating table, keeping me in the corner of her eyes.

I sat with my legs off the side of it and took a sip of the soup—it was fucking amazing, by the way—before looking at Batman. He didn’t look too happy, but I figured that was either me being there or just his resting bitch face, so I casually said, “Wanna start us off?”

His BatGlare intensified, “How did you figure out my identity?”

Okay, showtime.

“I saw footage of you when I was really little, and it looked like you were using gadgets,” I said.

“It looked like it?”

“I mean, I saw you reaching for stuff,” I shrugged with my good shoulder. “If you just had powers or whatever, then you would just have natural abilities instead of a bunch of gadgets. I guess there was alwasy the possibility of magic items, but I never gave that option serious thought.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause I don’t know shit about magic, so it was boring to think about,” I said, making his glare intensify again, which lead me to wonder if there was any limit to the displeasure he could transmit. Farah, in the background, was wildly gesturing for me to stop pissing of the Batman. “In any case, I figured that someone with the money to afford gadgets to do all the shit that you do and do it without drawing notice had to be ridiculously wealthy. Billionaire at least.”

“There are multiple billionaires in the area.”

“But none that match your body type,” I said. “Closest thing would be Lex Luthor, but he’s too much of an egomaniac for a secret identity. And there would have to be some kind of powerful motivator in your past, which... yeah.”

Wow that was a mean look on his face. “I’d thank you not to guess on my motivations, Reyes.”

“Yeah, no, okay, totally understandable,” I swallowed, though I felt a glimmer of satisfaction. I had been preparing this lie literally since the day I figured out what universe I was in, because if I had to lie to Batman, it had to be damn convincing. I’d been sure for years that I could say it half-asleep, brain damaged and high.

(Which, between the beating, the tiredness and the morphine, I was three for three in proving.)

“Plus, as life went on I figured you’d need a place to stash all your junk, and a check of City Hall showed that there’s an ancient cave system beneath Wayne Manor,” I said, gesturing around as I got to the only part of my cover that was actually true, since I’d wanted some physical evidence behind my ‘deduction’.

Of course, that was the part that he questioned next, “Why did you check? What use could you have for knowing my identity?”

“Boredom, mostly,” I said. “It’d be pretty cool if I knew who Batman was, right? Never felt the need to tell anyone besides my best friend, so don’t worry about that.”

“I’ll decide what to worry about.”

Jesus Christ, okay, never touching his daughter in front of him again. I thought.

Swiftly moving on, I said, “Add that to your family matching up to the members of the BatFam... I mean, there was evidence against it, but that could be explained by you planting red herrings with your ridiculous resources.”

“Your whole reasoning is plagued by circular thinking,” Batman pointed out. “You justified every possible hole in your reasoning with the endpoint of your reasoning.”

“Yup,” I said, nodding. “Sucks for you that I was right, huh?”

And that was the linchpin. Anyone that knew me would find it weird that, purely through rational thought, I had figured out one of Gotham’s best-kept secrets. But if my reasoning relied on me being a pig-headed jackass that grabbed an idea and didn’t let go?

“Of course,” Farah sighed, proving me right instantly. “You figured out Batman’s identity because you’re too stubborn to admit you could be wrong. Sure.”

Batman seemed a bit more skeptical, if his glare was anything to go by, but he moved on. “You mentioned telling your best friend?”

“Billy, yeah, but he never believed me,” I said. “He’s convinced y’all are vampires.”

“That happens,” he dismissed. “In any case, I’ll have to pay him a visit.”

Shit, shit, shit. I covered up my sudden worry with a frown, leaning in. “He didn’t do shit.”

“He’s the head of the Henchmen’s Union and a convict.”

“The jail thing was him taking the fall for someone else, and the Goonion makes sure the people you put in the ER are taken care of,” I said, making to get off the table before Cass’ hand on my chest stopped me. “Billy shouldn’t get a ‘visit’ just because I told him my guess when we were kids.”

“There’s no need to get defensive,” Batman said. “I just need to make sure he understands the importance of what he knows.”

“He doesn’t know what he knows,” I pointed out. “You could say nothing and nothing would change.”

“But can I trust that none of the present members of your gang will confirm your deduction?” he challenged. I winced, and he pressed on. “Your loyalty is commendable, but unneeded. I’m not going to hurt him.”

I looked him in the eye. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

“... alright,” I said, sighing with relief. “I’ll still give him a call first, though.”

“If you must,” he said. “In any case, I don’t appreciate you just coming here unannounced. You could have put our secret identities at risk.”

The hyprocisy made me snort, and my mouth started running before my common sense could kick in. “Yeah, it really sucks when people don’t give any respect to the secrets you keep in your life, huh? Imagine if I’d shown up when you were going to church with your family or something.”

Farah closed her eyes and started visibly planning out her last will and testament, but to our surprise, Batman drew back a little at that,  eventually giving me a nod. “... touché.”

I blinked, surprised, and looked at Farah.

She seemed as lost as me.

Choosing to move on, I said, “... In any case, Farah was careful driving here.”

“How would you know?” asked Farah, who had a need to always get the last word. Seeing that everyone looked at her, she backpedalled, “I-I mean, I did, but you were knocked out.”

I shrugged with my good shoulder. “You’re smart, you would know to be discreet if we’re heading to some billionaire’s house.”

She paused, then tightened her lips and looked away.

“In any case,” I said, “We’ve got more important business. I know who Big Man is.”

Batman’s eyes widened, and he leaned in. “Who?”

“Namond Little, an old boss of mine. He faked his death and got a bunch powers from the Metropolis power auction, not necessarily in that order.” I grimaced, then admitted, “He stole my powers.”

Farah and Yua gasped, Batman’s eyes narrowed, and Cass reached out to put a hand on my back. I looked at her, and she took off her mask.

Kind green eyes, one of which framed by a black eye. Asian features, mussed up short black hair, and a smile you’d kill a man for.

I’d seen pictures before, sure, but in that moment, Cassandra Cain-Wayne looked like the world’s prettiest woman to my eyes.

I smiled at her, and her smile widened. Then Alfred cleared his throat, and we snapped to look in his direction.

“Sorry to interrupt...” he drawled, and to my shame I felt my face getting hot like I was a teenager again. Probably because I kinda was. “... But you might like to know that not all hope is lost.”

I blinked, “What?”

“I was going to ask about some irregularities I found after I took the liberty of having the BatComputer examine a vial of your blood.”

Farah frowned. “Isn’t that a huge violation of his rights?”

“Yes. Anyway—” “Oh, we’re just glossing past it, okay.” “—when I examined your blood I found traces of the artificial ‘Metafactor’ that characterizes Mister Luthor’s latest scheme. But nowhere near enough to fit the profile of someone with your abilities. So I took a few more samples, each separated by about half an hour, and there was a noticeable increase between the first sample and the last sample’s .”

“How big was the increase?”

“0.0001%,” he said. Then he noticed my flat look and he huffed, “I didn’t say it was very noticeable. The point is, your body has been altered in the genetic level. You should recover in time.”

I breathed a sigh of relief, “That’s good to know.”

“Yes, I suppose it is,” Alfred said.

“You’ve been great, man,” I said. “D’you take tips?”

“Yes.”

“Alfred, you’re literally a millionaire.”

“And I didn’t get to be one by saying no to tips, Master Wayne.”

I laughed, then gasped in pain. “Ow, ow, ow, fuck.”

“Your ribs are broken,” Alfred chimed in.

“Yeah, no, I got that from the stabbing pain when I breathe,” I muttered. “Back to the subject at hand, Namond.”

“What can you tell us about him?”

“Well, if he were still like I remember, I’d tell you he’s patient, affable and shit like that,” I grumbled, “But Blackgate changed him. He’s... aggressive. Got a huge chip on his shoulder, like he’s got something to prove.”

“Any physical weaknesses?”

“No, unless something happened in jail,” I said, scratching my chin. “Speakin’ of jail, he said somethin’ interesting. He said he was at the auction in person. Might’ve been a lie, but...”

“If not, then how did he leave beforehe faked his death?” Batman completed the thought. “We’ll look into it.”

“Right,” I nodded. “In any case, with my powers, any physical problems are probably fixed.”

“Any details you can share?” he asked.

I grimaced, “I’m guessing anything I say is gonna end up on a file titled ‘How to Beat Sam’s Ass if Needed’?”

Alfred and Cass, at least, had the good grace to look chagrined. Batman just looked at me.

“Right,” I sighed. “It’s basically a ‘jack of all trades’ kind of powerset. I can—well, could be overwhelmed in one aspect, but—”

“You’re telling us anyway?” Batman asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah boss, that seems kinda dumb,” Farah pointed out.

“True,” I said, “But Namond’s gotta go down. If this is the cost, then this is the cost.”

“... thank you, Samuel,” said Batman, which holy shit, right? Goddamn, put that on my grave.

(I could picture it clearly:

Samuel Andrés Reyes

20XX — Way Longer Than Reasonable

Batman Thanked Him Once

It’d be real tasteful, too. Only two statues of naked ladies with swords on my grave.)

Of course, I showed none of this none of my face and said with perfect grace, “Uh, yeah, that’s cool— I mean, it’s no problem, man— I mean sir, Batman—Mr. Batman, boss.”

“Just Batman is fine.”

“Right,” I cleared my throat, “Where was I?”

“You were chewing on your foot,” Farah informed me, the bitch, “But before that, you were saying your powers make Namond a jack of all trades?”

“Right, that,” I nodded. “As I was saying, he can get overwhelmed in one regard; speed, strength, durability, but he’s gonna have everything else to fall back on.

“Be too fast to hit, he can just tank a hit and use his Stick ‘Em powers to catch you. Be too strong for him to tank a shot, he can just dodge. Be too durable, drag you around with webs. At least that’s how I would use my powers, no telling if he’s gonna be better or worse with them.

“Another thing is my Spidey Sense—”

“That’s what you call it?” Farah asked.

“Billy always called it your sixth sense,” Yua commented.

“—which allowed me to sense danger before it happened,” I said. “It’s not perfect, it only works with immediate physical danger and it doesn’t say where it comes from or how, but it’s useful.”

“We suspected you had something like that,” Batman nodded. “Countermeasures were already being planned.”

“... alarming,” I said. “Anyhow, the powers all have one exploitable weakness. The user. Like I said, Namond’s got something to prove, and against me especially for some reason. If we use me as leverage, we can hit him were it hurts.”

“No, no, fuck no,” Farah cut in, “You’re not fighting shit until your powers are back.”

“Agreed,” said Yua, and Cass nodded enthusiastically next to me.

“I wasn’t planning to,” I said. “I was fine leaving the political side of the fight to the Blackgaters, but they seem to be losing that. I think it’s time I take a stance. People need to know he’s no man for this town.”

“What do you have planned?” asked Batman.

“Easy,” I said, then turned to look at Cass. “Mi vida, if I stay faithful, do you mind if I become a pimp?”

The people in that room became some of the few to ever hear Batman choke on his own spit, though it was mostly drowned out by the sound of Farah’s hand smacking her forehead.

Cass shrugged and signed, [Sure, go for it.]

“Cassandra!”