First Battle

Jay could tell that the woman before him was a textbook capable, strong-willed type—decisive, highly competent, fiercely independent, and carrying that hint of control freakishness that might just be a Bat Family tradition. She gave him no room to negotiate, practically dragging him into the ventilation shaft in the wall—which, by the way, also seemed to be a Bat Family favorite.

They crawled through the duct, Huntress taking the lead. Her movements were professional and swift, as agile as a cat used to moving on all fours—clearly, she was no stranger to crawling through vents. Jay followed helplessly behind, watching her curvaceous rear sway under the purple cloak.

He felt he should tell this lady that he really didn't need to skulk around, but the moment he opened his mouth to utter half a syllable, she shot him an annoyed glare and hissed, "Didn't I say be quiet? It might hear us!"

Hate dealing with clueless brats on a mission, she thought.

"Uh, but—"

And he doesn't listen either! Huntress turned back again, still keeping her voice low but raising her tone: "I said quiet. What part of that don't you understand?"

Jay sighed. "I was just trying to say—it's already found us."

"Huh?"

The moment the words left his mouth, the vent wall above them was torn open with a sharp shriek of metal. The white monster ripped through the iron like tearing a pancake, shoving its head in with jagged jaws wide open, ready to bite. Huntress flipped onto her back, using both hands to choke its neck and stop it from pushing further in, her nose flooded with the unbearable stench from its mouth.

She gritted her teeth and barked an order behind her: "Don't just stand there—back out the way we came. I can only hold it off for now."

Even in such a crisis, she still prioritized the safety of a complete stranger. Jay couldn't help but feel a surge of respect for her.

But of course, he had no intention of obediently slipping away.

Huntress barely saw what happened. A blur flickered before her eyes, and the pressure on her hands vanished instantly. The white monster seemed to disappear from her grip, followed by a series of clattering crashes not far away.

She was dazed, not quite grasping what had just occurred. She saw that clueless civilian kid behind her tear the vent opening wider with his bare hands, then casually crawl out.

Jay stood arrogantly before the white monster—which had just been punched by him into a heap of tangled pipes, stars spinning in its eyes. It took a moment to refocus, lock onto its opponent, and with a roar, lunged again.

Its claws swung high, tearing through the air with a screech. But Jay saw the move clearly, reached out, and grabbed its wrist in a vice-like grip, locking its claws in place. He squeezed, and the bones in its wrist cracked with a sickening crunch.

The monster howled in pain and snapped its jaws at Jay's head. Though he was confident in the toughness of his scalp, he didn't want his hair covered in that foul, sticky saliva. So he dodged to the side, brought his knee up, and slammed it hard into the monster's gut. The blow was as heavy as an anti-tank shell at point-blank range, rattling its internal organs even through its sturdy scales.

The white monster screamed again, but couldn't break free from those pincer-like hands. Jay heaved with both arms, lifting the massive body clean off the ground, and tossed it over his shoulder like a shot put. The white form crashed into the casing of some heavy machinery, denting the solid metal plate.

Jay cracked his knuckles. "All bark, no bite. I was just warming up."

Maybe it understood the taunt, maybe not. The monster pushed itself up on its twisted legs, its blood-red eyes fixed on Jay with murderous intent. It reached out, grabbed a pipe as thick as an arm, and snapped it off. The broken end spewed white gas. With a roar, it hurled the half-pipe like a javelin.

The jagged metal tube tore through the air with a whistling shriek toward Jay. He didn't dodge. He caught it one-handed, the metal crumpling in his grip like paper. The entire pipe casing vibrated with a low hum under the immense force, like a trembling tuning fork.

The white monster snarled, strings of disgusting saliva hanging from its jaws. It pounced like a wolf or a leopard, the last desperate charge of a cornered beast.

Jay calmly gripped both ends of the metal pipe, and with a single burst of strength, snapped it clean in two, holding the halves like short clubs. As the monster lunged right in front of him, he swung the left piece into its cheek, snapping its head to the side and sending a long arc of saliva flying from its mouth. Then the right piece cracked against its forehead, making its eyes spin and its steps stagger, its ferocious momentum completely shattered.

The monster wobbled backward like a hungover drunk. It tried to pinpoint its opponent, let out a muffled roar as if to psych itself up, then charged again like a bull on unsteady legs. Jay didn't even move. He simply floated up, rising five or six meters into the air, and the fool ran right under him, slamming headfirst into the wall. It toppled over and lay still.

Jay walked over and kicked it twice, confirming it was no longer a threat for now. He turned around to find Huntress staring, mouth agape, seemingly speechless.

"I guess that's settled," Jay said with a shrug. "Of course, I think the cleanup work is better left to the 'professionals,' because, you know, I'm not exactly experienced."

Huntress opened her mouth for a long moment before asking in astonishment, "Are—are you one of them?"

"One of who?"

"Superhumans," she said. "Who—who are you? How did you do that? Are you... are you a Kryptonian? Like Superman?"

"Uh, well, that's a great question." Jay spread his hands helplessly. "I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"Don't give me that look. I really don't know."

Jay paused, gathering his thoughts, then said, "So... well, as you can see, I do have some special talents that others don't, but I'm not out here fighting monsters every day—actually, this is my first time, and I was a little nervous. You know, I've got my own life..."

He scratched his head, took a moment to organize his words, then added, "Okay, what I mean is, I'm sure you've got some boss to report to, but when you write your report, could you maybe leave out the part about me?"

"I... okay, I understand."

She answered so readily that Jay was caught off guard. It was almost too simple.

"Alright, just to confirm—you know what I meant, right?"

"Yes, I know." She nodded. "I'll haul this thing back to base and say I handled it myself."

"Then, thanks?" Jay waved a hand, suddenly feeling a bit awkward. He backed toward the door he'd come in from, saying, "I'll leave it to you. I should get going—if I don't hurry back, my mom might kill me. So, yeah."

With that, he vanished like a gust of wind, gone in an instant.

Huntress took a deep breath. A Kryptonian—or at least someone who might be one—she hadn't run into one of those in a while, and her head was still spinning.

Her earpiece crackled back to life: "Huntress, you still there? Come in."

"Yeah, I'm here," she said, pressing the earpiece.

"How's the target? Any anomalies?"

"No, nothing unusual. The target is down. You can send in the cleanup team. I'm pulling out now."

"Copy, request approved."

The call ended. Huntress leaned against the wall, took a few deep breaths, then switched to another line—one buried under layers of encryption, a channel she hadn't used in a long time. Her request shot through the ground as an electrical signal, crossing the city, passing through encryption after encryption, into a deeply hidden frequency.

After a long silence in her earpiece, a hoarse, low voice spoke: "I thought you'd never request this channel again."

"Believe me, I wouldn't if it weren't necessary," Huntress said coldly. "But I think I just ran into a Kryptonian."