The cold of Gotham had always carried a sharp bite. But tonight, it felt like a warning. The moon was smothered behind thick clouds, and the alleyway Alex found himself in reeked of rot and rusted metal. He could feel it. Something was wrong. He turned the corner, and the moment slowed.
A shadow loomed—a man, tall and broad, eyes sunken and hungry. The predator.
Alex barely had time to react before the man lunged. A gleam of metal flashed under the dim streetlight—a knife. Alex stumbled back, instincts surging. His body moved before his mind could keep up, leaping sideways as the blade sliced the air where his chest had been.
The fight began in silence.
The man moved like he'd done this before. Every strike of his blade came with purpose, every step with the confidence of someone who knew he would win. Alex dodged the first three slashes, ducked a fourth, and managed to kick the man back—but not far enough.
The man laughed.
"Oh, you got a little spark in you, huh?" he sneered, voice slick with something sick. "Makes it more fun when you scream."
Alex didn't answer. He didn't have time. The man came at him again. This time, the blade kissed his arm—hot, searing pain. Alex gritted his teeth. He wasn't strong enough. He wasn't fast enough. But…
He was learning.
Each movement taught him something. How the man's shoulders twisted before a jab, how his weight shifted with every lunge. Alex dodged a sweep, barely. His vision blurred from the pain in his arm, but his body adapted. Another slice—this one grazed his ribs. He hissed, breathing heavy now.
"I'm gonna carve you up," the man whispered, a twisted smile stretching his face. "Start with your legs. Hear those little bones snap."
Alex's heart pounded. Fear tried to take him—but beneath it, something else grew. Not strength. Not yet. But the will to keep fighting.
He struck back—fist landing against the man's jaw, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to stagger. But that small victory cost him. The man spun, grabbed him by the collar, and slammed him against the wall. Air flew from Alex's lungs as he felt the knife dig into his side.
He screamed.
Blood dripped down his shirt, warm and sticky. The man pinned him, grinning like a demon.
"I like it when they scream," he whispered.
Alex's vision blurred again—this time with tears, with pain. He tried to push, to fight, but his arms trembled. He was done. No technique. No power. Just borrowed strength from instincts he barely understood.
If I get out of this, he thought, teeth clenched, I'll train until I drop. I swear. Just… give me one more chance.
The alley lit up with a sudden flash of movement.
"Hey, jackass."
A voice, smooth, old-school. Calm. Confident.
Alex barely saw the man standing at the mouth of the alley. A black V-neck tee, blue jeans, scuffed boots. Weathered face. A legend in the flesh.
"I believe you got my appointment wrong," the man said. "You were expectin' fear. But you just got Wildcat."
The attacker turned, sneered. "Get lost, old man. This ain't your business."
The older man didn't flinch. He walked forward, slow and easy, like he had all the time in the world. Alex, weak and bleeding on the floor, looked up with wide eyes.
Someone… came. Someone actually came…
He blinked through the pain. The man—his would-be killer—twirled his knife in his fingers, stepping toward the new arrival. "I'll cut you too, grandpa. Bet your bones crack just the same."
"Kid," the man said, glancing at Alex without taking his eyes off the threat. "You know how to throw a punch?"
Alex coughed. "No…"
"Good," the man muttered. "Then you'll learn today."
Before the attacker could respond, Wildcat stepped forward and drove a jab into the man's gut so fast Alex almost missed it.
"That's a jab," Wildcat muttered, as the man stumbled back. "Clean. Snappy. Turn the hips."
The attacker came at him again, furious now. But Wildcat was calm—dodging, parrying, and landing strikes as he spoke.
"That's a hook. Keep your elbow tight. Aim with your shoulder."
Another blow—this time to the ribs. The man dropped to a knee.
"That's a cross. Use your back foot for power."
Finally, a final uppercut, snapping the attacker's head back. He collapsed, unconscious.
Alex stared, awestruck, barely able to sit up.
Wildcat turned to him. "So… you wanna learn?"
Alex nodded, heart pounding. In his mind, he thanked whatever force had brought him to this world. For giving him this second chance. This teacher.
"Yes," he breathed.
Wildcat grinned, extending a hand. "First thing's first. Let's get you home, kid."
Alex pointed weakly down the street. "That way…"
Wildcat bent down, helping him up, supporting his weight.
"Alright," he said. "Let's meet the family."