Darkness swirled around Matt like liquid obsidian, familiar yet alien. No heartbeats, no scents, no taste of air on his tongue. Just perfect, absolute nothing.
Then she appeared.
A woman with hair as black as the void surrounding them materialized before him. Her skin glowed with an unnatural paleness that should have been impossible to perceive in this darkness, yet he saw her clearly. Not with eyes or radar sense, but with something deeper.
"Matthew Murdock," she spoke, her voice like wind chimes and funeral bells simultaneously. "Or is it Gordon now? Identities are so fluid for you."
Matt tried to speak but found no voice. The woman circled him, studying him with eyes that held galaxies.
"You're a curiosity," she continued. "Few souls get recycled so... completely. Memories intact, abilities transferred. It's not how the system typically works."
She reached out, fingers hovering just above his cheek without touching. "I've been watching you since you crossed over. You've caught the attention of forces beyond your comprehension."
Leaning in close, her lips nearly brushing his ear... "Wake up, Matthew. She's coming."
Matt bolted upright on his thin sleeping mat, sweat soaking through his shirt despite the mountain chill. His heart hammered against his ribs while his enhanced senses instinctively cataloged his surroundings. Four-thirty in the morning. Monastery grounds quiet except for the kitchen where monks prepared the day's first meal.
The dream lingered like perfume, refusing to dissipate with consciousness. Two nights now, the same woman. Same message.
No time to dwell on it. O-Sensei expected him at sunrise, and the old master tolerated no tardiness.
Matt quickly dressed, splashed cold water on his face, and began the climb to the training grounds high above the monastery. His body had already adapted to the altitude after just two days, his lungs expanding more efficiently with each breath.
O-Sensei waited in the center of the stone courtyard, seemingly impervious to the biting cold in his thin cotton garments. Without greeting, he tossed a wooden staff toward Matt, who caught it midair without breaking stride.
"Your reflexes improve," the old man noted. "Today we explore your limits."
What followed made Stick's most brutal training sessions seem like kindergarten games. O-Sensei attacked with blinding speed, driving Matt across the courtyard with combinations that exploited weaknesses Matt didn't know he had. Each time he adapted, O-Sensei shifted tactics, forcing constant evolution.
"You rely too heavily on your hearing," the master critiqued, striking Matt's shoulder with a blow that would have shattered a normal man's collarbone. "Sound can be manipulated. Controlled. What happens when an opponent understands this?"
As if demonstrating, O-Sensei began moving with supernatural silence, his footfalls and even heartbeat becoming nearly imperceptible. Matt took a series of punishing hits before adjusting, extending his awareness beyond ordinary senses to something more primal.
The Beast's power stirred within him, offering enhanced perception. Matt hesitated to embrace it, remembering the bloodbath at North Point.
O-Sensei's staff cracked against his temple, sending him sprawling. "Your power fears you more than you should fear it," the old man said. "Control comes from acceptance, not denial."
Matt rose, tasting blood. He allowed the Beast's energy to flow, not in a flood but in a controlled stream. Suddenly, he could sense O-Sensei's presence on a deeper level, beyond heartbeats and breathing.
He blocked the next attack.
Then the next.
Soon they moved in perfect counterpoint, neither landing significant blows. O-Sensei increased his speed beyond human capability, and Matt matched him. The exchange lasted several minutes before the master finally stepped back.
"Enough," he said, not even slightly winded. "You learn quickly. Too quickly for an ordinary man."
Matt wiped blood from his lip. "I've had experience."
"More than your years suggest," O-Sensei agreed. "Your body is young, but your soul..." He trailed off, studying Matt with unnerving intensity. "You have lived before."
Before Matt could respond, a new presence entered his awareness. Someone approached the training ground, moving with deliberate grace that screamed danger to Matt's senses.
O-Sensei smiled slightly. "Ah, perfect timing. We have a visitor."
A woman emerged from the stone stairway, her heartbeat steady as mountain bedrock. She moved with absolute economy, not a single motion wasted. Even without sight, Matt knew she was beautiful in the way predators are beautiful, her danger part of her allure.
"Master," she greeted O-Sensei with genuine respect.
"Sandra," the old man replied warmly. "Your journey was without trouble?"
"The usual complications. Nothing worth discussing." Her attention shifted to Matt, assessing him with professional detachment. "You've taken a new student?"
O-Sensei gestured toward Matt. "This is Matthew. He seeks guidance. Matthew, meet Lady Shiva."
Matt bowed slightly, recognizing the name from whispered legends in his previous life. Lady Shiva, perhaps the deadliest hand-to-hand combatant on the planet.
"You're blind," she observed without preamble.
"And you favor your right leg slightly," Matt countered. "Recent injury?"
Her heartbeat quickened momentarily, the only sign his observation had surprised her. "Perceptive," she acknowledged.
O-Sensei clapped his hands once. "Matthew, that will be all for this morning. Return at sunset for meditation."
Matt recognized the dismissal. Bowing again to both master and visitor, he descended the stone steps, though not before hearing O-Sensei's words to Shiva once he believed Matt out of earshot.
"He is perhaps the most talented student I have ever encountered."
Shiva's disbelief was palpable in her response. "More than Dragon? Than Turner?"
"Perhaps more than both combined. He carries something within him, Sandra. Something ancient."
Their voices faded as Matt continued downward, processing this unexpected validation. For the first time since North Point, something like hope flickered within him.
______________________________
Gotham seemed determined to wash itself clean of recent horrors, rain sheeting down for the fifth consecutive night. Batman stood motionless on a gargoyle overlooking Crime Alley, water cascading off his cowl as he surveyed the carnage below.
Three bodies, brutalized beyond recognition. Another skirmish in the ongoing war between Black Mask and Penguin, with ordinary citizens caught in the crossfire.
"Brooding again?" a familiar voice purred behind him. "You know what they say about all work and no play."
He didn't turn. "Selina."
Catwoman slid gracefully into his peripheral vision, rain plastering her catsuit against her lithe form. "Three more for the morgue. City's tearing itself apart since Joker's death."
Batman remained silent.
"You know," she continued, "most of Gotham's celebrating. The monster who terrorized this city for years is finally gone. Even if it wasn't by your hand, isn't that a win?"
"Justice isn't about killing, Selina. It's about accountability."
She laughed, though it held little humor. "Tell that to the families of Joker's victims. I'm sure they're heartbroken he didn't get his day in court." When Batman remained stone-faced, she sighed. "What's really eating you? The clown's dead, Ra's is out of the picture. Your job just got easier."
"Did it?" Batman finally turned to her. "North Point wasn't justice. It was a massacre executed with precision that rivals the League's best assassins. Carried out by a seventeen-year-old boy who, until three days ago, appeared to be an ordinary blind teenager."
Selina's playfulness faded. "Gordon's son?"
"The evidence is conclusive."
"And now you're worried there's another wildcard in Gotham. One you didn't see coming."
Batman's silence was answer enough.
Selina moved closer, placing a hand on his armored shoulder. "You can't control everything, Bruce. Not even in your city."
"I can try," he replied, turning back toward the crime scene as police cruisers arrived below. "I have to."
....
.....
...
The underground bunker carved into Himalayan rock hadn't existed two days ago. Now it housed nearly a hundred League assassins loyal to Nyssa Raatko, half-sister to Talia and daughter of the deceased Ra's al Ghul.
Nyssa paced the length of the war room, listening to reports of Talia's growing forces. Her half-sister had escaped Arkham with suspicious ease, immediately rallying loyalists to her banner. The League of Shadows had effectively split in two.
"The American branch stands with Talia," a lieutenant reported. "As do the European cells."
"And our Asian operations?" Nyssa asked coolly.
"Divided. Many await proof of rightful succession."
Nyssa stopped before an ancient map mounted on the stone wall. "My father believed himself immortal. He made no clear provisions for succession because he never truly believed he would fall." She traced a finger along the map's faded ink. "His arrogance has left us vulnerable."
"What are your orders, mistress?"
Nyssa turned, her expression resolute. "We are no longer the League of Shadows. That name dies with my father. Henceforth, we are the Veil of Nine."
The lieutenant bowed deeply. "And our primary objective?"
"Find the boy who killed my father. Matthew Gordon. I want him brought to me alive." Her voice hardened. "He will help us destroy what remains of my sister's claim, whether he wishes to or not."
________________
The Batcave's main screen displayed footage so disturbing that Alfred had twice excused himself during the viewing. Commissioner Gordon sat rigid in his chair, face ashen as he watched his son's ordeal unfold in high-definition agony.
Batman had finally accessed the security recordings from North Point, retrieving what the GCPD techs had been unable to salvage. Now Barbara, Dick, Alfred, Jim, and Bruce watched in horrified silence as the Joker's sadistic "graduation ceremony" played out.
They witnessed Eric's dismemberment, the boy's screams mercifully muted by Batman out of respect for the commissioner. They saw Matt chained and beaten, enduring psychological torture designed to break even the strongest minds.
When Eliza's murder began, Barbara turned away, unable to watch. Jim Gordon's hands clenched into bloodless fists.
"That's enough," Dick said, his voice hoarse. "We get the picture."
"No," Batman countered grimly. "You need to see what happens next."
On screen, something changed in Matt's demeanor after Eliza's death. The slumped shoulders straightened. The bowed head lifted. When Joker's men came to move him, the transformation became horrifyingly complete.
The blind teenager moved with impossible speed and precision, breaking his chains and attacking with brutal efficiency. Limbs snapped like kindling. Bodies crumpled. Not a single motion wasted as Matt Gordon systematically destroyed everyone in the room.
"Holy hell.." Jim whispered as his son methodically worked his way through the facility, leaving destruction in his wake.
The footage jumped to the main chamber where Ra's al Ghul and his elite guard awaited. What followed was a showcase of martial skill that left even Bruce disturbed. Matt fought like someone with decades of experience, dismantling highly trained killers with ease. When Deathstroke entered the fray, the combat elevated to a level few in the world could achieve.
"He's not fighting like a teenager," Dick observed. "Those are master-level techniques from multiple disciplines."
"Some I don't even recognize," Batman agreed.
They watched in silence as Matt defeated Deathstroke, then Talia, then Ra's himself. When the footage finally ended with Joker's death, the cave remained quiet for several long moments.
Gordon finally broke the silence. "That can't be Matthew. Someone's maybe controlling him... He's never..." His voice faltered.
"I'm sorry, Jim," Batman said quietly. "Facial recognition is 100% positive. Voice analysis confirms. That's Matthew."
Barbara wiped tears from her eyes. "What happened to him? How could he possibly fight like that?"
"I have a theory," Batman replied. "The chemical accident that blinded him at age nine contained trace elements consistent with Lazarus Pit compounds. Ra's suspected this created enhanced abilities that Matthew has hidden for years."
"Enhanced doesn't begin to cover it," Dick interjected. "Bruce, he killed Ra's al Ghul with his bare hands. Nobody does that."
"Nobody human," Batman agreed darkly.
Gordon stood abruptly, anger flashing across his face. "Are you suggesting my son is some kind of monster? After what that psychopath did to him? To his friends?"
"I'm suggesting," Batman countered evenly, "that Matthew has abilities far beyond what any of us realized. Abilities he concealed for years. That makes him dangerous, regardless of his motivations."
"He's still my son," Gordon insisted.
"Yes," Batman acknowledged. "And if we find him, Jim, what then? Those aren't the actions of someone who plans to come home."
The cave fell silent again, the question hanging unanswered as the final frame of security footage froze on Matthew Gordon's face, his expression one of terrible resolve as he walked away from the carnage he had created.