The sirens had stopped.
That silence alone told Draven something had gone terribly wrong.
He stood at the edge of the rooftop, eyes scanning the cityscape. Below, clouds of smoke billowed from a collapsed warehouse in Midtown—Pulse's most recent message, scorched into the world with fire and bodies. But this wasn't just destruction. It was a puzzle, a warning, and maybe... bait.
Evelyn's voice crackled in his earpiece. "That wasn't just a weapons cache. GCPD found remains. Charred. Five of them. All had implants. Halcyon-tech."
Draven's fists clenched. "Experiment sites… again."
"They were testing something new. Neural overstimulation. Direct emotional manipulation. These people weren't just killed, Draven… they were driven insane before they died."
His breath fogged the cold night air as a weight sank into his chest. "And Pulse left them to burn."
"They're pushing the timeline," Evelyn said. "Or something's changed. We're missing a piece."
"We'll find it."
Suddenly, a loud crack echoed from behind. Draven spun, blades unsheathed, but all he found was a shattered security drone tumbling from the sky. His eyes flicked upward—and there it was.
A message, glowing in red across a nearby skyscraper's digital billboard.
"YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY MONSTER IN THE DARK." — P
Pulse.
"They're watching," Evelyn whispered. "Even now."
Draven exhaled. "Let them."
Two Hours Later — Black Hollow Tunnels
The deeper they went, the more the world above seemed like a dream. Draven moved silently through the hidden maintenance passages below Gotham, Evelyn close behind. The tunnels, remnants of an abandoned pre-war project, stretched under the old city—known only to a few.
"This is where I traced the data leak," Evelyn whispered, crouching beside a crumbling support beam marked with the old Halcyon sigil. "A backdoor into their communication lines. Whoever opened it wanted someone to find them."
Draven didn't answer. He was already listening.
Voices. Faint. Eager. Unstable.
They crept forward and found themselves in a wide, open chamber—once a subway platform, now something else. Lights flickered above rusted metal rails, and men in armored suits moved with military precision, overseeing something massive being lowered into the ground. A black, coffin-like container—buzzing with faint blue light.
Evelyn's breath caught. "That's not tech I recognize."
"It's not from here," Draven said darkly.
Then—click.
Behind them.
Too late.
A sharp pain lanced through Draven's neck. He stumbled, already reaching for a blade, but his limbs slowed. Evelyn screamed. Then darkness.
Unknown Location — Later
Draven awoke strapped to a vertical table, his vision swimming. The room was dimly lit, industrial—lined with glass observation panels. Tubes and steel arms hissed and clicked as machines worked silently around him. Beside him, Evelyn was restrained to a chair, conscious, struggling.
A familiar voice echoed overhead, robotic and cold.
"You've been a thorn, Draven. Pulling pieces. Breaking patterns. But the storm is already here."
Pulse.
A man stepped forward—masked, cloaked in black and silver circuitry. But this wasn't just another lackey.
This was Pulse.
And he wasn't alone.
Next to him, cloaked in shadow, stood a hunched figure chuckling softly to himself, face hidden beneath a cheap clown mask. A pawn. Harmless. Or so it seemed.
"You mistake chaos for madness," Pulse said, kneeling beside Draven. "But there's a plan here. A lattice. A harmony beneath the carnage. And you—"
He touched Draven's temple. A spike of pain lanced through his skull. Images flooded in. Screaming children. Hospitals turned labs. Evelyn, screaming, held down by men in white.
"—you're the necessary fracture."
Evelyn's voice broke through the haze. "Why us? Why him?!"
Pulse tilted his head. "Because he used to believe in justice. That makes him… the most poetic test subject."
A mechanical arm swung forward, a long, serrated injector humming with blue fluid.
But just as the needle touched Draven's neck—BOOM.
The wall exploded inward.
Smoke. Screams. Shadows moving.
A figure burst through the chaos, helmeted, armored in dark crimson—tearing through guards with brutal speed. Pulse roared, turning—but the figure was faster, slicing his shoulder before vaulting toward Evelyn. In one swift motion, the stranger disabled the restraints and caught Evelyn as she stumbled.
"Who—?" she gasped.
"No time," the figure said, voice modulated. "He matters. We get him out."
The figure hit a switch. Draven's table collapsed forward, and Evelyn caught his shoulder, shaking him.
"Draven! Wake up!"
His eyes snapped open.
He moved.
Somewhere Safe — Hours Later
The safehouse Evelyn had built underground was dark, lit by dying fluorescent bulbs. Draven lay on a makeshift bed, gasping, the effects of the injection still wearing off. Across from him, the armored stranger removed her helmet.
A woman. Young, late twenties, with sharp green eyes and a scar along her temple.
"I'm Valeria Kade," she said. "Codename: Nyx."
Draven sat up slowly, wincing. "Why did you help us?"
"Because I used to work for them," Nyx said. "Halcyon. Project Origin. Pulse. I was one of their enforcers. But when I saw what they did to the children…"
She looked away. Her jaw clenched.
"They killed my sister."
Evelyn stepped forward, laying a hand on Draven's shoulder. "We're not alone anymore. She has intel. Real maps. Codes. Everything."
Draven looked between them, his thoughts racing.
They were getting closer to the truth.
But beneath it all… something else stirred.
A laugh.
A faint echo, crawling in from the edge of the radio. Not Pulse. Not Harbinger.
But older. Deeper.
He turned to the monitor Evelyn had been repairing. The screen flickered—and in the static, a smile emerged. Crooked. Mocking.
He's still watching.