Chapter Four: A Face in the Mirror
He stared at his reflection.
It had changed. Subtly, but enough to make him take a step back.
White hair. Stark, unnatural. Not aged—altered. Like someone had drained the color out and left it shining. His eyes… golden now. Not blinding, just lit from inside. Soft. Luminous. Like they remembered something he hadn't earned.
He leaned closer.
Same face. Same jaw. Same scar on his chin from whatever life came before this one. But it looked like someone had taken the volume knob on his presence and turned it up. He didn't just exist in the mirror—he glowed in it.
Kane let out a short breath, rubbed the back of his neck, and laughed quietly.
"Great. Now I look like some rejected anime protagonist."
The mirror didn't disagree.
He reached up and ran a hand through the snow-white hair. Smooth. Silky. Supernatural.
He thought of Poison Ivy again—her eyes narrowing in that park, the curiosity in her voice. What would she think if she saw him now?
"Could I actually score Ivy?" he muttered with a grin. "Maybe if I don't panic mid-sentence next time."
But the grin faded almost as fast.
Because the truth was, it felt wrong.
All of it.
The power. The insight. The cosmic vision. Even the way people seemed to sense something when he passed them on the street now. It wasn't fear. It wasn't interest. It was like they couldn't name it—but knew he was different.
He didn't hate the power. Not really.
It just didn't feel like it belonged to him.
He hadn't trained for it. Hadn't earned it. No sacrifice. No blood. No breaking point. He'd just woken up with it—dropped into a new life like a chess piece falling onto a board mid-game.
A second chance.
A miracle.
He knew the comics. Knew how rare that was.
Bruce lost his parents. Clark lost a world. Barry lost time. Diana gave up peace for war. Every hero came with a cost. But Kane? He didn't even know what he was yet, and already he could see through dimensions and feel gods breathing.
He wasn't just powerful.
He was wrong.
And no one knew. Not really. Ivy had sensed something, sure. But she didn't understand the scope. Hell, he didn't.
He looked around the room—dusty, small, just enough to live in.
He wanted to leave.
Not just the apartment. Gotham.
This city had enough chaos. Enough legends. It didn't need a guy with golden eyes who could feel the structure of reality tremble when he got emotional.
He needed quiet.
He needed to think.
But where do you go when you might not even belong in this reality?
Who do you talk to?
The Justice League would freak. The villains would want to use him. The gods? He wasn't even sure they could hear him.
And the Presence—if that's who gave him this power—was silent.
Kane closed his eyes. Just for a second. Tried to steady his breathing.
"You're not evil. You're just… new."
He said it out loud. It didn't help much.
Still, there was something oddly comforting in one thought:
This world has a billionaire who dresses like a bat to beat up clowns.
So yeah—maybe he could rock the white hair. Maybe the glowing eyes wouldn't be the weirdest thing Gotham had seen this week.
He smiled again, smaller this time. Real.
"I've seen worse. Hell, I've read worse."
The city outside murmured through his window—cars, rain, neon buzzing against glass.
He didn't have answers.
But maybe tomorrow, he'd start looking for them.
Maybe not in Gotham.
But somewhere.
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