Two Days Later
Gotham had returned to its familiar darkness, the rain washing the streets clean beneath the neon glow of the city's endless night. The skyline was a jagged crown of light and shadow, a kingdom of secrets where the rich and the wicked ruled side by side.
Inside a quiet, expensive restaurant overlooking the skyline, Bruce Wayne sat across from Zatanna Zatara, his posture relaxed, his expression the picture of a billionaire enjoying an evening meal.
No armor.
No cape.
No cowl.
Only an immaculate black suit and the practiced expression of a man who knew how to play the game.
To anyone watching, this was simply Bruce Wayne having dinner with an old acquaintance..
But Zatanna knew better.
She slowly placed her glass down, her fingers lingering on the stem, her eyes sharp as she studied him.
"So."
Bruce looked up, his expression unreadable.
"So?"
Zatanna leaned back slightly, her lips curling in a knowing smile.
"You invited me to dinner."
She gestured to the table, her voice laced with amusement.
"And you've spent the last twenty minutes pretending this is actually dinner."
Bruce's expression remained composed, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, a spark of acknowledgment.
"I am eating."
Zatanna glanced at his barely touched plate, her eyebrow arching.
"Hm,more like you're interrogating the steak."
Bruce almost smiled.
Almost.
Zatanna sighed, her tone shifting from playful to serious.
"Alright. What do you want, Bruce?"
Bruce finally stopped pretending. His voice was low, measured.
"I need your help."
That immediately caught her attention.
Zatanna leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table, her expression serious.
"With what?"
"Derrick."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, her mind racing through the implications.
"The new League member?"
Bruce nodded, his jaw tightening.
"I believe he's lying about something."
Zatanna studied him, her gaze piercing.
"Everyone lies about something, Bruce."
"Not like this."
She waited, her silence a prompt.
Bruce continued, his voice cold.
"J'onn sensed unusual mental activity around him."
Zatanna's eyebrows rose, her expression darkening.
"Martian Manhunter?"
"Yes."
"And you're worried?"
Bruce's eyes hardened, his voice a blade.
"I've been worried since the day he arrived."
Zatanna leaned forward, her voice low, urgent.
"Why?"
Bruce paused, his mind sorting through the facts.
"Because every time Derrick demonstrates an ability, he reveals exactly what is necessary."
"Never more."
"Never less."
Zatanna considered that, her fingers tapping against the table.
"You think he's hiding his real capabilities."
Bruce's voice dropped, his expression grim.
"I think he's hiding his real intentions."
That silenced her.
Bruce continued quietly, his voice a whisper.
"I want you to scan him."
"Secretly."
Zatanna stared at him, her expression a mix of shock and disapproval.
"Bruce…"
"I don't need a diagnosis."
Bruce met her gaze, his eyes unyielding.
"I need to know whether there's something supernatural attached to him."
She frowned, her voice sharp.
"You're asking me to magically investigate a League teammate without his knowledge."
"Yes."
Zatanna shook her head, her voice tinged with frustration.
"That's ethically questionable Bruce.. ."
"I know." Bruce replied..
"And if you're wrong?"
Bruce's answer came immediately, his voice firm.
"Then I'll apologize of course ."
Zatanna studied him for several long seconds, her mind weighing the request.
Finally, she sighed, her voice quieter.
"You're really convinced."
Bruce's expression didn't waver.
"I've been wrong before."
A pause, the weight of his words hanging in the air.
"But not often enough to ignore this."
Zatanna looked toward the rain-covered window, her reflection staring back at her, troubled.
"Alright."
Her voice became quieter, resigned.
"I'll think about it."
Bruce nodded, his expression unreadable.
"That's all I'm asking."
Zatanna leaned back, her voice dry.
"You're lucky I like you, Bruce."
Bruce almost smiled.
Almost.
"I know."
Far above Earth, the Watchtower hummed with quiet efficiency, its massive structure a beacon of hope in the void of space.
Inside his quarters, Derrick sat alone, his legs crossed, his hands resting upon his knees, his eyes closed.
To anyone observing through the doorway, he appeared to be meditating.
In reality
His consciousness was elsewhere.
Derrick's POV
The infection network remains stable.
A distant presence answered, Firestorm.
Not completely himself anymore.
But still functional.
Still capable of operating without attracting suspicion.
My awareness touches the connection, a thread of thought stretching across the void.
Go somewhere isolated.
Firestorm obeys.
Minutes later, the hero stands within a remote rocky region, the wind howling around him, the sky a vast expanse of stars.
A small stone rests in his palm.
I transmit a simple instruction.
Transform it.
Firestorm stares at the stone, his expression tightening, his mind resisting the unfamiliar command.
But the infection, my influence, pushes him forward
The molecular composition begins changing.
Carbon.
Oxygen.
Silicon.
Metallic elements.
Rearranging.
Then
Green.
The rock glows with an unnatural emerald radiance, its surface shimmering like liquid light.
My eyes open.
A faint smile touches my face.
Kryptonite.
A contingency.
Nothing more.
I don't need it today.
But eventually
Superman will become a problem.
Power Girl will become a problem.
And I have no intention of fighting
Kryptonians without preparation in a world with so many powerful threats to his plans therefore strength isn't enough.
Preparation defeats strength.
The connection remains active.
I study the artificial Kryptonite through Firestorm's senses, my mind analyzing its structure, its potency, its stability.
Excellent.
I order Firestorm to conceal it, to bury it deep where no one will find it.
Then the connection disappears.
Firestorm blinks, his mind clearing, his expression confused.
What was I…?
He shakes his head, dismissing the thought.
Grief does strange things to the mind.
Elsewhere,
Central City
Meanwhile
The Flash ran.
The city blurred around him, a streak of red and gold against the backdrop of Central City's skyline.
He stopped a robbery in the blink of an eye.
Evacuated civilians from a damaged building before it collapsed.
Delivered medical supplies to a hospital in seconds.
Caught a falling child before anyone realized what had happened.
To him
It was simply another day.
Until reality changed.
One instant
Central City existed around him.
The next,
Everything disappeared.
Flash stopped.
There was no road.
No sky.
No buildings.
Only endless crimson lightning, a storm of pure energy stretching into infinity.
He immediately recognized it.
The Speed Force.
His expression changed, his heart pounding.
"What's happening?"
Something answered.
Not with words.
With presence.
Immense.
Ancient.
Infinite.
The Speed Force itself seemed to surround him, its power pressing against his mind like a tidal wave.
Then came the message.
Not spoken.
Felt.
Something is consuming you.
Flash froze, his breath catching in his throat.
"What?"
Another pulse, a wave of understanding flooding his mind.
Something foreign exists within you.
He stared at his hands, his breathing quickening, his mind racing.
"No."
"That's impossible."
The Speed Force responded, its voice a sensation rather than sound.
It is being contained.
For now.
Flash looked around, his eyes wide, his voice a whisper.
"Contained by you?"
A pause, the energy around him pulsing like a living heart.
Barely.
His eyes widened, his voice tight.
"What is it?"
The answer came as another sensation, a wave of knowledge crashing over him.
Something microscopic.
Something adapting.
Something trying to survive inside a body that should have been impossible to infect.
Flash's expression became serious, his jaw clenching.
"I need to get rid of it."
The Speed Force surged, its presence overwhelming.
You must understand.
It is learning.
Flash's eyes widened, his voice a rasp.
"Learning?"
Before he could ask another question,
The Speed Force violently expelled him.
Central City
Flash crashed through several feet of pavement, his body tumbling across the ground before he rolled to a stop.
He immediately stood, his mind racing, his heart pounding.
Cars screeched to a halt nearby.
Pedestrians stared, their faces a mix of shock and confusion.
Flash ignored them.
His mind was racing.
Something had gotten inside him.
Something the Speed Force itself considered dangerous.
He needed answers.
And there was only one person he trusted to investigate something this strange.
Batman.
Flash vanished in a streak of red lightning.
Gotham
The Batcave erupted with motion.
Flash appeared almost instantly, his body still humming with residual energy, his expression grim.
Bruce Wayne turned sharply, his eyes narrowing as he took in the speedster's unusual seriousness.
He had barely returned from his dinner with Zatanna, his mind still processing the conversation.
"Bruce."
Flash's voice was unusually serious, his tone urgent.
Bruce immediately recognized the tone, this was not a social call.
"What happened?"
Flash looked toward the computer, his voice tight.
"I need you to scan me."
Bruce's expression changed, his mind shifting into high alert.
"Why?"
Flash swallowed, his hands clenching at his sides.
"Because something's inside me."
Silence.
Bruce stepped closer, his voice low, controlled.
"What?"
"I don't know."
Flash shook his head, his eyes wide with fear, a look Bruce had never seen on the speedster's face.
"The Speed Force pulled me in."
That got Bruce's full attention.
"The Speed Force?"
Flash nodded, his voice a rasp.
"It told me something is trying to consume me."
Bruce stared at him, his mind racing.
"Consume you?"
Flash nodded again, his breathing quickening.
"And it said there's a virus in my system."
Bruce became completely still, his expression unreadable.
"Do you know what kind?"
"No."
Flash looked directly into his eyes, his voice a whisper.
"But I think…"
He hesitated, his jaw tightening.
"…it might be connected to Derrick."
Bruce said nothing.
For several long seconds, neither man moved.
The air between them was thick with tension, with the weight of the revelation.
Then Bruce slowly turned toward the Batcomputer, his voice a command.
"Get on the table."
Far above them, the Watchtower hummed with its usual rhythm, the sound of its systems a lullaby of order in the chaos of the universe.
Derrick's eyes opened.
His consciousness returned completely to his physical body.
He inhale slowly, his mind processing the information he had gathered.
Everything appeared normal.
The Watchtower hummed around him.
His heartbeat remained steady.
His expression remained calm.
He knew nothing about the conversation happening in the Batcave.
Nothing about the Speed Force.
Nothing about Flash's sudden discovery.
For now
His plan remained intact.
He closed his eyes again, his breathing even, his body still.
The League trusts me for now and Batman already suspects me, that guy never trusts easily..
That distinction matters.
A faint smile touched his face, barely there, barely noticeable.
Suspicion without proof is useless.
But somewhere deep within his biological network—
One of his countless microscopic extensions suddenly registered an unexpected disturbance.
A presence.
A resistance.
Something vast had noticed the infection.
My eyes open.
For the briefest moment
My expression becomes thoughtful.
Interesting.
I don't know what has happened.
Not yet.
But whatever has interfered with my infection
Has just revealed itself.
And I have learned something long ago.
When something reveals its existence,
It becomes a potential source of knowledge.
I lean back against the wall, my body relaxing, my mind racing.
The false sleep resumes.
But my mind is no longer resting.
It is hunting.
Elsewhere,
The Batcave
Flash lay on the medical table, his body tense, his mind racing as Batman worked quickly, his movements precise.
The Batcomputer hummed, its screens flickering with data, scans, analyses.
Bruce did not speak as he worked, his focus absolute.
Minutes passed in silence, the only sound the beeping of the machines and the hum of the cave's systems.
Finally, Bruce stepped back, his expression grim.
"I've isolated it."
Flash sat up, his voice urgent.
"What is it?"
Bruce pulled up a hologram, a microscopic image of a black, shifting particle, its edges blurry, its structure complex.
"It's not like anything I've seen before."
Flash stared at the image, his mind racing.
"Is it… alive?"
Bruce paused, his eyes narrowing.
"It's adapting."
Flash's breath caught in his throat.
"Adapting to what?"
Bruce looked at him, his voice cold.
"To you."
Flash swallowed, his voice a whisper.
"Can you remove it?"
Bruce hesitated, his mind already racing through the possibilities.
"Not without risking damage to your system."
Flash clenched his fists, his voice tight.
"Then what do we do?"
Bruce stared at the hologram, his mind processing.
"We observe."
"We learn."
"And we wait."
Flash looked at him, his expression dark.
"Wait for what?"
Bruce met his gaze, his voice a blade.
"For it to make a mistake."
Back aboard the Watchtower, the station drifted in silent orbit, its massive form a sentinel in the void.
Derrick sat in his quarters, his eyes closed, his breathing steady.
Outwardly, he was the picture of calm.
Inwardly, his mind was a storm.
The Speed Force has noticed.
That is… unexpected.
But not unwelcome.
Every revelation is an opportunity.
Every mistake, a weakness to exploit.
I review the data I have gathered, Flash's speed, his connection to the Speed Force, his unique biology.
The infection did not take hold as planned.
But it survived.
And survival is the first step to adaptation.
Patience.
The League is distracted.
Superman still mourning,
Batman is suspicious.
Flash is vulnerable.
All variables I can use.
I open my eyes, my gaze distant, my mind calculating.
The game is still in its early stages.
But the board is set.
And I am always thinking three moves ahead.