The basement, now lit only by the cold fluorescent lamps and the residual glow of the colossal computer monitors, felt even more confined with the presence of three such distinct figures. Batman stood motionless like an obsidian statue, arms crossed over his broad chest, the bat symbol reflecting the light in silvery tones. Beside him, Green Arrow maintained a more relaxed posture, yet equally alert, his bow still slung across his back like a natural extension of his body. Erick Smith, the 15-year-old boy with messy black hair and blue eyes that seemed to carry the weight of decisions far too adult for his age, stood on the last step of the staircase, arms crossed in an unconscious imitation of Batman's pose. The door behind him was locked—not just closed, but sealed with every single lock he had so carefully installed.
Erick broke the silence first, his voice firm but tinged with the exhaustion that betrayed sleepless nights and relentless thoughts.
"I thought my trial was already over." He tilted his head slightly, looking directly at the two heroes. "The jury ruled it was self-defense. I was acquitted of all charges. So why are you here? Why now?"
Green Arrow raised a hand in a calming gesture, his tone softer than Batman's, but still serious.
"Easy, kid. We know you were acquitted. We're not here to challenge the court's verdict." Oliver took a step forward, keeping his hands visible. "We came to offer help."
Erick frowned, uncrossing his arms for a moment.
"Help? What kind of help?"
Oliver gave a small smile—not quite joyful, but one that carried experience.
"We came here to make you a proposal." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "We know you have special abilities. We're talking about what happened in that house, the day Victor Zsasz broke in, the girl with the knife at her throat… and what you did to protect her. The fire that came out of your hands. The trial that followed. The fact that now everyone knows Erick Smith is Gotham's first publicly known metahuman."
Erick lowered his gaze for a second, the memories of that day still raw, still painful. He didn't answer right away. Instead, he slowly raised his right hand. His fingers opened, and an orange glow began to emerge between them—not an ordinary flame, but something purer, more controlled, as if the air around him warmed and danced in shades of amber and gold. The light reflected off the basement walls, illuminating the books, the tools, the punching bag, the unfinished belt on the table.
"Special… like this?" he asked, almost defiantly, as the flame danced for a few seconds before dissipating without leaving a trace.
Oliver nodded, pointing at Erick's hand.
"Exactly like that." He glanced briefly at Batman, who remained silent, before continuing. "Batman and I, along with our protégés, are representing the Justice League. We're putting together a team. A team of young people like you. Boys and girls with special abilities, who need guidance, training, and… a place to belong."
Erick raised an eyebrow.
"A team? Like… sidekicks?"
"Not exactly," Oliver replied. "It's something new. Completely confidential. This team will only work on missions approved by Batman." He pointed to the man in the black cape beside him. "The main focus is secret operations. Things that can't be done in broad daylight, that require total discretion. And you… you have abilities different from anyone we've ever seen. Controlled fire, quick reactions, above-average intelligence, martial arts training… You're unique, Erick. And maybe this is the right environment for you. To make friends. To interact with people your own age who truly understand what it's like to carry a power no one else understands. To have a normal life… or as close to normal as someone like you can get."
Erick remained silent for a long moment. His eyes wandered around the basement—the shelves of books, the championship photos, the computer he built himself, the belt that was still unfinished. All of it was his. His fortress. His refuge. But also his prison.
"And what do I get out of it?" he asked finally, his voice low but direct.
This time it was Batman who answered. His deep voice cut through the air like a blade.
"The opportunity to train your special abilities. In a structured way. In a safe way." He took a step forward, the cape rippling slightly. "We know you've been under judicial supervision since the trial. One slip, one use outside the lines, and you could be arrested again. We can make sure that doesn't happen. We can teach you to control what you have. To use it without destroying. To protect without killing."
Erick swallowed hard. He looked at Batman, then at Oliver, then at the floor.
"You're recruiting me… to be a hero? To work as a hero?"
Batman didn't answer immediately. Oliver, however, stepped closer.
"It's not about being a caped poster-boy hero. It's about making a difference. About having control over what you are." He paused, his tone more personal. "I used to think the same way, you know? I didn't think I was the kind of guy who fit into teams, rules, 'doing good.' But certain situations… certain people… they bring out the best in us. Sometimes the path appears when you least expect it."
Batman added, his voice even lower:
"It's an opportunity. To learn. To meet new people. People your own age. Who carry the same weight."
Erick took a deep breath. His shoulders dropped slightly, as if the weight of all the words had finally found a place to rest.
"I… need time to think."
Oliver nodded immediately.
"That's fine. Take all the time you need." He reached into an inner pocket of his suit and pulled out a small black card, simple, with no logos, just a phone number embossed in silver. He handed it to Erick. "As soon as you have an answer, just call this number. Day or night. Someone will answer."
Erick took the card, staring at it as if it were an alien object.
Batman and Oliver turned toward the stairs. Erick followed, climbing the steps behind them. When they reached the top, he unlocked all the bolts with quick, practiced movements and opened the basement door. He let the two pass first but didn't follow them down the hallway. He stood at the threshold, watching the heroes' silhouettes move toward the living room.
"Goodbye," he said simply.
Batman and Oliver didn't reply with words. They only nodded once.
Erick closed the basement door behind them and turned all the locks again. The metallic click echoed like a period at the end of a sentence.
In the hallway, Erick's mother and father were waiting, standing side by side. Mrs. Smith's face was pale, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Mr. Smith kept his arms crossed, jaw clenched, as if trying to hold back an internal storm.
Oliver stopped in front of them.
"Mr. and Mrs. Smith… we made a proposal to your son. A chance for him to meet others like him. Kids his age with special abilities. A place where he can interact, learn, belong." He paused, looking directly into their eyes. "Now it's up to him to decide whether he wants to be part of that world or not."
Mrs. Smith brought her hand to her mouth, as if trying to stifle a sob. Mr. Smith only nodded slowly, his gaze heavy.
Batman spoke to them for the first time, his voice low but firm:
"He has a choice. A path to follow."
Oliver added, in a more human tone:
"You raised a good boy. From what we've seen here, he's intelligent, disciplined, brave. But you know he has to walk his own path."
The two heroes passed by the parents, heading toward the front door.
Oliver turned one last time.
"Mr. and Mrs. Smith… goodbye."
The front door opened to absolute night. The streetlights remained off—Batman's hack still in effect. The street was swallowed in thick darkness, as if Gotham had devoured every light in the neighborhood. Batman and Green Arrow stepped out silently, crossing the front yard and heading to where the Batmobile waited, invisible until they approached.
The doors opened with a soft click. They entered. The engine purred low, almost inaudible. The camouflage field activated again, and the vehicle vanished into the darkness.
Inside the cockpit, the silence was heavy.
Batman drove, eyes fixed on the road.
Oliver stared out the window at the blackness swallowing Crest Hill.
"Do you think he'll call?" he asked finally.
Batman took several seconds to answer.
"He'll think. A lot. And when he decides… he'll call."
The Batmobile accelerated smoothly, leaving the neighborhood behind and diving back into the dark veins of Gotham.
Advance chapters: https://www.patreon.com/cw/pararaio