Jack Kadere made no effort to hide his scrutiny, even as the woman across from him frowned in obvious displeasure. If she really was who he thought—Selina Kyle, the infamous Catwoman—then this was definitely the DC Universe.
First Marvel, now DC? A classic setup for any comic fanfiction.
Marvel or DC, where couldn't he run wild?
A grin tugged at his lips. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, a long, slender leg shot toward his face with startling speed. Unfortunately for her, Jack Kadere didn't have a foot fetish.
Infinite Copy.
The ability activated instantly, duplicating whatever skill an opponent used against him. He felt his body's flexibility sharpen, his reflexes quicken. The moment her leg rose, Jack snapped backward, her heel grazing the top of his head. Almost instinctively, his own foot swept out and struck her supporting leg—precisely above the calf, just below the knee.
She lost her balance immediately, pitching forward. Her reaction was fast; she tried to plant her other foot on the bed to stabilize herself. But Jack was faster. His hand shot out, grabbed her ankle, and pinned it against his torso.
With one foot on the ground and the other trapped against him, her body sank into a full split, pressing down onto Jack.
A sharp rrrip echoed through the cell.
Jack was certain the prison hadn't designed these uniforms with splits in mind. They both froze, staring at the torn crotch of her jumpsuit.
"Don't look at me," Jack said, meeting her eyes. "I'm not paying for that."
The ripped fabric might have been embarrassing on its own, but his comment turned embarrassment into fury. Pay? Did she ask him to pay? Enraged, she threw a punch straight at him. Given their positions, the target was obvious. Jack had no intention of relying solely on his mouth in the future, so he shoved her leg away hard.
An ordinary person would have collapsed. She used the momentum to backflip, landing in a crouch. The next instant, she charged.
As the renowned jewel thief Catwoman, Selina Kyle possessed exceptional balance, flexibility, and reflexes—plus expertise in Muay Thai and street fighting. Her reputation wasn't built on nothing.
Jack smiled and met her head-on.
Bang.
Their attacks were identical. Same angle, same technique. A direct exchange.
Catwoman's eyes widened briefly, but her body didn't hesitate. Fists and feet collided, back and forth. In the cramped cell, the two fought intensely, the sounds of impact echoing off concrete walls.
At first she thought it was a coincidence. But the longer they fought, the more frustrated she became. It wasn't coincidence—his moves were completely identical, down to her smallest combat habits. It was like fighting a male version of herself.
"Bastard! If you've got any guts, stop copying my moves!" she snarled.
Jack laughed. "As expected of Protégé's ability. It doesn't just copy skills—it integrates experience instantly. Even chugging skill books isn't this efficient." He watched her expression twist with anger. Definitely Catwoman.
"Wanna cry to mommy? Hit me then. Not like you can win anyway."
"With the same moves, I can't beat you," Catwoman sneered, "but you can't beat me either."
"That's not necessarily true. I was just teasing a cat earlier. Now…" He drew out the last word deliberately.
Teasing a cat?
What the hell!
Catwoman didn't pause to wonder if his phrasing meant he knew her identity. She only had one thought: just one hit. She pushed off the ground and charged again.
The Copy ability was undeniably broken—like a Sharingan, instantly creating a stalemate. But Jack was more curious about Infinite Superposition. Copy seemed almost mundane, no matter how powerful. Fine for showing off, but to really show off, he needed Superposition.
"Infinite Superposition—Two-fold!"
It sounded embarrassingly chuunibyou, but a youth without chuunibyou was a wasted youth. Suppressing his cringe, he shouted it anyway.
Catwoman flinched at the sudden yell. After stacking two-fold, his reaction time, speed, coordination, flexibility, and strength all sharpened instantly. Her whip kick came in fast, but Jack stayed rooted, his waist contracting and twisting inward at an angle even she couldn't achieve. He dodged effortlessly.
She followed with a barrage—whip kicks, side kicks, spinning back kicks—while her hands delivered jabs, crosses, hooks, elbow strikes. A torrential assault.
Jack dodged every one.
Slow. Too slow.
What had required blocking before now allowed effortless evasion.
"Infinite Superposition—Three-fold!"
Before her next whip kick could fully extend, Jack had already predicted it and moved. He leaned forward, shoulder driving into hers with brutal force. A powerful jolt sent Catwoman stumbling backward into the wall.
She grunted. Her shoulder drooped visibly where he'd struck.
That much force?
Her entire shoulder tingled, and even a slight movement brought cold sweat streaming down her face.
The most infuriating part was that she recognized the technique. A leaning strike—one she knew but couldn't execute that quickly or that powerfully. The torque required a kind of integrated force she hadn't fully mastered.
"Who are you?" Catwoman demanded, cradling her shoulder and watching him warily.
Jack looked at her and chuckled.
"I'm Batman!"