A woman stared coldly at the child in her arms. She hadn't wanted this baby—and she certainly didn't think herself capable of raising it.
That left her with only one choice: to end the baby's life right here and throw it away like garbage. It would spare her a lifetime of trouble.
She slowly lifted the child, then with a sudden surge of strength, hurled it downward.
But the moment the newborn should've hit the ground… something impossible happened.
The baby floated—suspended midair, as if caught by an unseen force.
"What… what's going on?" The woman froze, her mind blank with terror.
Had she just given birth to some kind of monster?
Fear began to creep up her spine.
If the child really was a monster—then would her attempt to kill it bring about its wrath?
She swallowed hard, trembling.
Then a voice, calm but cold as steel, spoke behind her:
"So it seems beasts aren't limited by gender."
The woman jolted in fear and turned around sharply—only to see Colin standing there.
"The Silent God Superman…" she stammered, instinctively taking a step back.
Colin raised his hand, and the baby drifted gently into his arms, cradled by invisible power.
Like all newborns, the child was wrinkled and fragile—but even so, this one carried a strange, quiet weight to her existence.
If this were a reincarnated soul's beginning, it would be the most hellish start imaginable.
The woman knew what she had done was monstrous. Still, the fear of public ruin—of disgrace—made her desperate.
She fell to her knees and pleaded, "If you don't tell anyone… I'll do anything. You can have me, for free, for as long as you want. However you want. Please—if this gets out, my life will be over!"
Her trembling hands reached toward his belt, her tone dripping with false sweetness.
Colin took a single step back and said coldly,
"You don't even have the right to touch me."
The words shattered what little pride she had left. Her face twisted in humiliation and rage.
"I don't have the ability to raise her…" she muttered bitterly.
Colin let out a quiet, humorless laugh.
"Maybe if you bought one less handbag, you'd have the money to feed her. And please, don't start pretending to be some tragic mother now—I can read you like an open book."
His voice was razor-sharp, cutting through her fake tears.
Inside, the woman cursed him viciously—but on the surface, she kept up her act.
Yet when Colin tilted his head slightly, she froze. He could hear her thoughts.
Realizing it was useless to pretend, she snapped, "You bastard!"
But her voice vanished. No sound escaped her lips.
Colin had silenced her completely—a minor ability of his, one that erased sound itself.
He exhaled softly, shutting down his mind-reading power as well.
"I won't kill you," he said. "But don't think for a second you'll live an easy life after this."
Without another glance, Colin turned and walked away, the baby floating gently by his side.
As for the woman—there were people who would handle her. And Colin knew they would deal with her in a way that would satisfy his anger.
He didn't intend to raise the baby himself.
So, who should he entrust her to?
After a moment's thought, Colin remembered a man who had once prayed earnestly for his wife's recovery—a man whose faith had touched even him.
Yes. That man would do.
A man sat quietly, watching a nervous little boy—his adopted son, barely four years old.
The boy fidgeted under his gaze, uncertain and anxious.
The orphanage director had just told him that he finally had parents.
He had felt overjoyed… and terrified.
He had never met his real parents before—he didn't know how to act, or what to say.
The man looked at him, and a flicker of memory stirred—of himself years ago, paralyzed with fear when he learned that his wife was gravely ill.
But back then, he had received an answer from God.
He forced a small, gentle smile—one that didn't quite reach his eyes.
He wanted to appear kind, approachable.
Step by step, the boy walked toward him. Then, hesitantly, he raised his arms and hugged the man.
The man froze for a moment, then slowly wrapped his arms around the small body.
The boy was so light—so fragile—that it felt as though even breathing too hard might break him.
"From now on," the man said softly, "I'm your father."
"Dear…" a woman's voice called from outside the room.
"What is it?" the man replied, carrying the boy out.
And there, standing before him, was Colin—with a newborn baby floating gently at his side.
Colin quickly explained everything that had happened.
By the time he finished, both the man and his wife were silent—boiling with quiet fury.
How could anyone do such a thing?
How could a mother try to smash her own child to death?
What kind of heartless creature would do that?
"Will you take her in?" Colin asked at last. "Of course—I'll provide support."
He intended to take the funds from the baby's biological parents.
Whatever money they earned, anything beyond their basic needs would belong to the child.
Some of it would also go to this couple, as a reward for their kindness.
"Yes," the man and woman answered almost in unison.
But when Colin handed them a bank card, they immediately refused.
They weren't rich, but they could handle raising two children.
"This isn't for you," Colin said. "It's for her. And the money will come from her parents.
Consider it… compensation for what they tried to do."
With that, Colin turned and left.
Today's events had filled him with anger.
That was still an innocent life—an infant who hadn't even taken her first step in this world.
So that night, many villains found themselves beaten bloody and thrown into prison.
The sudden onslaught left them dazed and terrified.
They had followed Colin's laws faithfully—so why were they still getting pummeled?
They racked their brains, until one realization dawned:
Colin was simply in a bad mood.
Someone must've pissed him off.
And whoever that unlucky bastard was… they'd just doomed everyone else.
Even the Joker, reading the day's headlines, understood immediately.
He chuckled and muttered,
"Ah, what a kind… and capricious savior of justice."
Colin's wrath had been triggered by that one woman's cruelty—and his fury had fallen upon every criminal unlucky enough to cross his path.
He hadn't killed any of them, but none escaped without bruises or broken bones.
The Joker smirked.
Good thing he hadn't escaped from Arkham today, or he'd be nursing a few fractures himself.
The prisons were overflowing now, packed with some of Gotham's strongest villains.
He grinned, already scheming. Maybe he could use this chaos to give the Bat a few sleepless nights.
"Ahahahaha!"
His laughter echoed down the empty halls.