Vey didn't hesitate.
The moment the Talon forced its way into the vehicle, he kicked the door open and rolled out onto the slick pavement, the impact jarring through his shoulder. He came up on one knee, rifle already in position.
He unloaded.
A full burst tore upward into the creature's head at near point-blank range. The muzzle flash lit the rain in violent pulses as rounds slammed into bone and flesh, snapping the Talon's head back with brutal force.
Inside the car, Dre reacted just as fast.
He twisted out of the driver's seat, one hand bracing against the frame as he leaned out and opened fire on the approaching vehicles. Men were spilling out now—organized, armed, moving with lethal intent.
Dre's shots kept them from closing immediately, forcing them to take cover behind doors and engine blocks.
"Move! Move!" he barked, keeping the pressure on them.
But the Talon didn't go down.
Even with its skull torn apart, the thing moved.
Its body twisted unnaturally, almost folding in on itself before it sprang off the ruined roof of the car. The motion was too fast, too fluid—less like a man and more like something built purely for violence.
It hit the wall beside the alley—
And rebounded.
Like gravity barely applied to it.
Vey's eyes tracked it instantly, adjusting his aim—
"Still up," he muttered, already shifting position.
The Talon came off the wall in a blur, limbs snapping into motion with inhuman precision as it redirected straight back toward them.
Rain sprayed with every impact.
Vey twisted sharply as the Talon came down again, the blade carving through empty air where his head had been a fraction of a second earlier.
Boots hit pavement.
He pivoted—
—and froze for half a heartbeat.
Another one dropped from the rooftops.
Then a second.
Then a third.
They landed like predators, silent and precise, rising from their crouches with that same unnatural stillness.
Vey's jaw tightened.
"Dre!" he snapped. "We need an exit—now!"
More engines roared at the mouth of the alley.
Additional cars swung in, sealing off the last open angle. Doors flew open, men pouring out with weapons raised—
Vey exhaled slowly.
And let go.
The world shifted.
Color bled into existence around him—not natural, not real, but something deeper. A spectrum layered over reality, pulsing, moving, alive.
Auras.
He locked onto the men first.
Their outlines flared—
And he forced them.
Deep red.
Rage.
It spread like fire through dry grass.
One man turned on another with a snarl. Then another. Gunfire shifted, chaotic, disorganized as suspicion and fury detonated in their ranks.
Vey didn't stay to watch.
He snapped sideways just as a dagger sliced through the space his neck had occupied, the blade whispering past his skin.
The Talons didn't falter.
Didn't react.
Didn't care.
They ignored the chaos completely.
Vey's eyes narrowed.
"They're ignoring Dre…"
Which meant—
"They're here for me."
Behind him, Dre was still firing, breath ragged as he took in the sudden madness unfolding.
Men who had been advancing seconds ago were now tearing into each other—shouting, shooting, dragging one another to the ground in blind fury.
He'd seen this before.
Didn't question it.
Didn't want to.
Instead, he scanned the alley, mind racing—
Then something clicked.
"I RECOGNIZE THIS ALLEY!" Dre shouted. "HEAD FOR THE TRASHCAN!"
Vey didn't hesitate.
One Talon lunged—
Vey stepped in instead of back, slamming his shoulder into it with a brutal body check that sent it crashing into the side of a car hard enough to dent metal.
He brought the rifle up and fired at the second—
The Talon twisted mid-motion.
The shot meant for its head clipped into its torso instead, barely slowing it.
"Fast," Vey muttered.
Too fast.
The third came from behind.
He felt it—
Turned—
No time.
Vey vaulted onto the hood of the car, boots slipping slightly on rain-slick metal before he pushed off, rolling across the roof as the blade stabbed down where he had been.
He hit the ground already moving.
"GO!" Dre yelled.
They ran.
Gunfire. Screams. Rain. Metal.
Chaos swallowed the alley behind them as Vey and Dre sprinted toward the rusted, dented trash container at the far end—
The Talons right on their heels.
Dre skidded to a stop and spun, planting his feet as he fired past Vey in controlled bursts. The Talons came from every angle now—rooftops, walls, ground—closing distance with that same unnatural, relentless precision.
"Move!" Dre barked, covering him.
Vey didn't slow. He pushed forward, then snapped his head back just enough to shout, "Follow!"
Dre peeled off a final volley and broke into a sprint behind him.
They reached the rusted trash container at the end of the alley.
Vey grabbed the edge, glancing at Dre. "What next?"
His voice wasn't panicked—just loud enough to cut through the chaos.
Dre was already moving.
He flipped the lid open and, for a split second, grinned like a madman.
"Hop in, boss."
Then he looked up.
The grin vanished.
"Fuck—fuck—fuck—HOP IN, BOSS!"
Vey didn't question it.
He turned just long enough to fire twice—clean, precise shots that snapped two Talons' heads back and bought a fraction of a second—
Then he vaulted into the trash container.
Dre followed immediately after him.
The lid slammed—
Too late.
A Talon landed on top with a heavy thud.
A blade punched through the metal lid, missing Dre's head by inches.
"Move!" Dre snapped.
He dropped into a crouch and shoved at the back panel of the container. Rusted metal groaned before giving way, revealing a narrow opening cut into the wall behind it.
A tunnel.
Cramped. Tight. Barely enough room to crawl.
Dre slid in first, dragging himself forward.
"Go!"
Vey followed, twisting his body through the opening as fast as the space allowed.
Behind them metal screamed.
The lid was ripped clean off.
Light flooded in.
A blade came down hard—
It caught Vey's leg.
Steel drove through muscle just as he pulled forward.
His body jolted.
But he didn't scream.
Didn't stop.
He clenched his jaw and dragged himself the rest of the way through as the knife tore free.
They spilled out into the adjacent alley.
Open.
Not a dead end.
Vey hit the ground and pushed up immediately, ignoring the blood already soaking through his pant leg.
"Run," he said flatly.
They ran.
Footsteps pounded behind them—
Scraping.
Clawing.
The Talons were forcing their way through the tunnel.
Inside his mind Kieran's vision flickered
Color surged again.
Vey's own aura shifted.
Warm.
Bright.
He forced it—pushing sensation away, dulling the pain, replacing it with something lighter, almost euphoric.
The injury was still there.
But it didn't matter.
Not right now.
They were halfway down the alley—
When one dropped in front of them.
It landed silently, rising slowly as its head tilted toward them.
Vey skidded back a step, adjusting instantly.
Behind them—
The others began to emerge from the tunnel.
One.
Two.
Three.
Boxing them in again.
Vey steadied himself, breath even despite everything.
Cold erupted as suddenly as a shadow glided from the sky.
A cone of freezing force blasted through the space, coating two of the advancing Talons instantly. Ice crawled over them in jagged layers, locking them mid-motion—one half-raised, the other mid-step, both frozen like grotesque statues.
Vey registered it in less than a second.
Batman.
He moved.
No hesitation.
The rifle—empty—became a weapon anyway. He stepped inside a Talon's reach, slipping past a blade that sliced where his throat had been, and whipped the rifle across its temple with brutal force.
The crack echoed.
The Talon staggered—barely.
Vey didn't give it time.
He reached down, grabbed the knife still lodged in his own leg, and tore it free in one violent motion. Blood followed.
He ignored it.
Drove the blade forward.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
Again.
Each strike aimed for the temple, precise, merciless. Bone gave way inch by inch until the Talon finally dropped, its body twitching once before going still.
Only then did Vey stop.
Breathing steady.
Controlled.
He looked up.
Batman stood a few paces away, cape settling behind him, the remaining Talons encased in ice or pinned in place—immobilized, for now.
Dre stood off to the side, gun still raised, eyes wide.
"Jesus…" he muttered under his breath.
His gaze flicked between the frozen assassins…
…and Batman.
It wasn't clear which terrified him more.
Vey held Batman's gaze for a beat—
Then something shifted.
Kieran slipped in like a breath.
The tension in the body melted away. Shoulders loosened. The knife dropped from his hand, clattering softly against the pavement.
And just like that—
The man standing there changed.
Kieran stepped forward with an easy, almost delighted smile, arms opening wide as if greeting an old friend instead of the most dangerous man in Gotham.
"Now that's an entrance," he said warmly. "You always did have a flair for timing."
He took another step closer, grin widening.
"Boy, it's good to see you, my friend."
His arms stayed open.
An invitation.
For a grand hug.