INDUSTRIAL COASTLINE – ABANDONED SHIPYARD
Rain poured like bullets, slicing down the steel bones of the empty docks. The wind howled through rusted cranes and broken shipping containers, carrying the cold stench of oil and salt. The sea beyond was black and restless.
Dozens of armored vans lined the perimeter of the yard, headlights piercing the darkness. Their engines idled low, humming like wolves waiting to pounce.
SWAT officers moved out in formation—helmets on, visors down, rifles drawn. City cops followed close, vests strapped tight, fingers twitching near triggers. No one said a word. They all had the same look in their eyes.
Diana stood at the center, hood pulled over her tied-back hair, arms behind her back. She wasn't leading the charge, just watching.
"Alpha One to Command," a voice crackled through her earpiece. "We've breached the perimeter. No movement yet. Proceeding inside."
Diana didn't respond. She just stared ahead at the massive cargo ship docked at the far end. The one Bruce pinpointed.
The ship was old. Red paint peeling. Name long since scraped off. Looked like it hadn't moved in years.
And yet… the lights inside were on.
She narrowed her eyes.
"Go," she said into the comm.
Like a machine coming alive, the teams surged forward. Boots splashing against puddles. Guns raised. Orders silent. They moved up the gangplank and into the hollow metal beast.
Inside was colder than outside. Dim emergency lights flickered in the hallways. The walls creaked with the weight of old metal. The air tasted like dust and blood.
"Alpha Two, sweep the lower deck."
"Alpha Three, secure the engine room."
Doors were kicked open.
Rooms cleared.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Diana's voice came through again. "Status?"
"Negative on all fronts," one of the team leaders replied. "Ship is clean. No hostiles. No weapons. No tech. It's a ghost town."
"That can't be right," Lin said quietly, back at the ops van, eyes darting between monitors. "We tracked the signal here. We saw the thermal flare. Someone was here. Recently."
"Alpha One, check the bridge," Diana ordered. "Top floor."
The lead SWAT unit moved. Up the staircase. Down the hall. Rifles pointed. Steady breaths.
They reached the bridge door.
It was unlocked.
They opened it.
And froze.
Right in the center of the control room—lit by a single flickering bulb—was a chair.
Facing them.
Empty.
But behind it…
A wall.
Something was pinned there.
A large photo print, stuck to the rusted metal with a single bloody knife.
It was Diana.
An old photo. Maybe a year or two ago. She was standing on the balcony of her penthouse, phone to her ear, sunset behind her.
On the wall next to it, in dark red paint, scrawled like it was done with a finger:
"I SEE YOU."
The words dripped slowly down the wall like blood that hadn't dried yet.
The entire team went quiet.
"Command," the team leader called, voice low. "We've got something."
Diana's footsteps were already echoing on the gangplank. She was walking onto the ship.
By the time she reached the bridge, everyone had cleared a path. No one said anything. They just stepped aside.
She looked at the picture.
Then the knife.
Then the writing.
Her face didn't change. Not even a blink.
Just silence.
Then she turned and walked out of the room.
"Pull back," she said.
The team stared.
"What? Ma'am—"
"Pull. Back."
The moment Diana stepped back onto the gangplank—
BOOM.
The entire ship breathed fire.
A deafening explosion ripped through the lower decks, blasting metal panels out like shrapnel. The bridge windows blew out behind her—glass screaming through the air. The blast wave punched outwards, sending several SWAT officers flying into the sea below.
Flames shot from the portholes. Smoke poured up the stairwells like black arms trying to claw the sky.
Diana was thrown off her feet, hit the wet gangplank hard, rolled twice, and slammed into the rail. She coughed, teeth grit, hair loose from the impact, the heat from the blast warming her skin.
"MA'AM!" someone shouted.
"Fall back! FALL BACK!" a SWAT leader barked into his comm, voice cracked with panic.
The crew scrambled. Officers dragged the injured out. Sirens blared from the vans. Fire teams rushed forward. Chaos.
But Diana didn't move yet.
She stood slowly, hood gone, hair wild, one side of her face smudged with ash. Her eyes locked on the burning ship.
The entire bridge was lit up now—like a signal fire in the dark.
And that image of her? The one pinned to the wall?
Still there.
Still burning.
The words I SEE YOU were now half melted into the steel. But you could still read them. Still feel them.
Rory's voice crackled in her earpiece. "Ma'am—Ma'am, are you okay?! That was a detonation—no thermal trigger, nothing electronic. It was rigged old-school. Chemical-based. We didn't see it. We didn't see it—"
"Quiet," she said, eyes still locked on the flames.
She walked down the gangplank as calmly as if it were just another drill. SWAT teams looked at her like she was walking out of a war zone.
Because she was.
Lin's voice came next, shaky: "Whoever this guy is… he planned for everything. That wasn't just a message. That was a show."
Diana said nothing. She kept walking through the flashing red and blue lights, past the fire trucks, past the officers whispering behind her back.
Bruce was standing near one of the armored vans, arms crossed, jaw tight. He'd been watching the whole thing from the moment the fire lit up the sky.
She stopped in front of him. Wet, burned, breathing slow.
He looked her over. Said nothing for a second. Then:
"You're lucky to be alive."
She didn't answer. Just wiped the ash from her cheek.
Bruce glanced at the ship, now roaring with fire.
"No bodies. No weapons. No footprints. No digital signature."
"A ghost," she muttered. "He wanted to prove something."
Bruce nodded slowly. "And he did."
Diana stared at the burning ship for another few seconds. The wind caught her hair. The rain started again.
"We're dealing with something else," she said.
"Yeah," Bruce replied. "This isn't about money. Or power. This is personal."
Diana looked up at the dark sky.
"No," she said. "This is a warning."
Bruce turned to her.
"A warning?"
She nodded.
"He's not coming after the city."
Bruce frowned. "Then who?"
She looked him in the eyes.
"Us."