The air on the terrace still carried the scent of sweat and tension, mixed with the distant stench of exhaust fumes and garbage from the streets of Gotham below. The sun had completely sunk behind the buildings, leaving the sky a mantle of indigo sprinkled with premature stars, while neon lights blinked like watchful eyes on the neighboring facades. Erick stood, his muscles still warm from the interrupted fight, his bare chest rising and falling in a rhythm that was trying to return to normal. Artemis, beside him, adjusted her crop top with quick gestures, the blush on her cheeks mingling with the sweat that trickled down her neck. Her green eyes sparkled with a mixture of irritation and surprise, fixed on Jade's slender figure standing in the doorway.
Jade — Cheshire, with her ever-ready invisible assassin mask — tilted her head slightly, her long black hair falling like a curtain of shadows over one shoulder. Her lips curved into a smile that was half amusement, half veiled threat. She crossed her arms, her dark red painted nails contrasting with the tight fabric of her black jacket, and glanced alternately at her sister and the "intruder" beside her.
"Oh, am I interrupting something?" she repeated, her voice laden with pure sarcasm, as if she were savoring the other person's discomfort. Her eyes, sharp and outlined with kohl, scanned Erick's sweaty body with a clinical assessment, lingering on the defined muscles of his abdomen and broad shoulders. Then they returned to Artemis, noticing the heaving neckline of her top and the thighs still tense in her short shorts. "Can't I visit my dear little sister without being greeted with looks like I've seen a ghost?"
Artemis huffed, crossing her arms over her chest in a defensive gesture, though the blush on her cheeks betrayed that the interruption had come at the worst possible moment. She glanced quickly at Erick, who stood there shirtless, his training pants low on his hips, looking like a living statue of determination and restrained strength. He caught her gaze—a mixture of embarrassment and something warmer, as if he were assessing a juicy piece of steak at a barbecue restaurant—and felt a familiar warmth rise in his chest, not only from the fire elemental, but from the chemistry they had been building on their clandestine patrols. Artemis quickly looked away, focusing on her sister.
"Don't play dumb with me, Jade," she retorted, her voice firm but with a hint of exhaustion. "You never just show up for a friendly visit. I know you better than that. There's always a reason, an agenda, something you want. Spit it out already: what do you have to say? And stop staring at Erick like he's the prize in a hunt."
Erick raised an eyebrow, but remained silent, his piercing blue eyes analyzing Jade as if she were a new piece in a complex puzzle. He knew who she was—Cheshire, the international assassin, Artemis's older sister, with a history of fickle loyalty and sharp blades. In the DC universe he had reincarnated into, figures like her were dangerous variables: allies one day, traitors the next. But also... opportunities. His calculating mind was already drawing lines: if the Artemis Protocol was advancing with the blonde by his side, perhaps an extension to the brunette wasn't impossible. For now, however, he observed, letting the sisters lead the conversation.
Jade chuckled softly, a guttural, amused sound that echoed across the empty terrace, like the purring of a panther before its pounce. She stepped forward, slamming the door behind her with a metallic click, isolating them from the distant noise of the stairs. "Always so direct, Artie. I love that about you. Okay, I'll skip the preliminaries." Her eyes narrowed, losing some of their playful tone, becoming cold and professional. "I see you two have been quite busy these past few days. Dealing with street thugs, mobsters lurking in dark alleys, and even some psychopaths in expensive suits. Isn't that right?"
Artemis frowned, her leg muscles still tense from the recent fight, sweat trickling down the exposed curve of her abdomen. She exchanged a quick glance with Erick, who nodded imperceptibly—they knew Jade had contacts in every shadowy corner of Gotham and beyond. "What do you mean? What exactly are you talking about?"
Jade leaned against the rusty terrace railing, the wind ruffling her black hair like a dark aura. She crossed her legs casually, but Erick noticed her posture: balanced, ready for quick movement if necessary. "What do you mean? You basically caught a crazy psychopath with enough money to buy half this stinking city. Black Mask, right? The guy with the skull mask and an ego bigger than the Batmobile. He didn't like being humiliated by a pair of rookies at all. And now, guess what? He's put a price on your heads."
Erick and Artemis stared at each other for a long second, his eyes calm but calculating, hers flashing with a mixture of anger and worry. Erick felt the fire elemental pulse in his veins, a warm reminder that he was prepared for whatever came—but this was escalation. Black Mask, Roman Sionis, the crime lord they had taken down on their recent patrol, was not the forgiving type. He was vengeful, rich, and connected. Artemis broke the silence first, turning to her sister. "How much?"
Jade smiled again, but now it was a humorless smile, sharp as the claws she hid. "Ten million. Each. Twenty in total if someone takes the whole package. You know how serious the situation is now, right? Gotham is already a rat's nest, but with this? Assassins from all over the city—and the whole world—will be drooling over this money. Especially since you're rookies. Easy to catch, or at least that's what they think."
Erick crossed his arms over his bare chest, his muscles involuntarily contracting as he felt the cool night breeze against his still-warm skin. He looked at Jade, her voice firm and pragmatic, without a trace of panic. "This was bound to happen eventually. I didn't expect it to be so soon, but... it makes sense. Black Mask isn't the type to swallow defeat quietly."
Jade nodded, her eyes fixing on him with renewed assessment—as if she were measuring whether he was worthy of her sister or just another fake hero. "Exactly. You're now on a tightrope, teetering over the abyss. My contacts have been whispering that he's already made contact with some extremely dangerous people. Like Deathstroke—Slade Wilson, the guy with the missing eye and an aim that never misses. And Deadshot, Floyd Lawton, who can hit a fly a mile away. Not to mention the other smaller assassins who will swarm like flies to honey. You've put a giant spotlight on yourselves. Rookies who stand out too much... well, they don't last long in this game. They're eliminated quickly, before they become a real threat."
She paused, letting the words hang in the air like cigarette smoke. Erick processed everything, his mind racing: this was an opportunity in disguise. With the patent money flowing in, Baymax protecting the family at the mansion, and his accelerated training with Sensei, he was progressing rapidly. But a hunt like this would test his limits—and strengthen his resolve to seek absolute power. Artemis, on the other hand, seemed more agitated, her fists clenched in her still-sweaty MMA gloves. "Ten million might seem like little to guys like Deathstroke or Deadshot. Why would they care?"
Jade shrugged, but her eyes were serious. "It might seem like a small amount to them, yes. But you have to remember: when the task seems easy—two inexperienced rookies, without a giant network like Batman's—the number of assassins that will be attracted is enormous. It's not just the top-tier ones; it's all the scum who think they can get lucky. Ten million is enough to attract a crowd, and if one of the big shots decides to join, it's because they see value in humiliating you or gaining favors with Sionis. It's a snowball effect, Artie. And you're at the top of the mountain, pushing it down."
Artemis blinked, processing her words, the wind ruffling her blonde ponytail. She looked at Erick again, searching for some kind of anchor in his calmness, but her voice came out sharp when she turned to her sister. "And why are you telling me all this? You're not exactly the type to just show up to give free advice. What do you get out of it?"
Jade's expression softened for a rare moment, her eyes losing some of their murderous coldness and gaining an almost... protective glint. She uncrossed her arms and took a step closer to her sister, lightly touching her shoulder—a gesture that Artemis didn't immediately push away. "Because you're my little sister, Artie. As much as you're petulant, annoying, and stubborn as hell, I still care about you. I'm not going to stand by and watch you become a target for those idiots. We grew up in the same hell, remember? With Dad training us like we were weapons instead of daughters. I know what that's like."
Erick watched the scene intently, noticing how Artemis lowered her guard slightly—her shoulders relaxing a little, her green eyes softening behind her hard facade. It was a rare glimpse of vulnerability between the Crock sisters, two survivors forged by the same cruel fire of Sportsmaster. He felt a pang of empathy mixed with strategy: strengthening bonds like this could be useful in the long run, especially if Jade became an ally in the emotional harem he was building. But for now, he remained quiet, letting the moment unfold.
Jade removed her hand from Artemis's shoulder and casually pointed at Erick, her index finger like an invisible blade. "You're in luck, handsome. They haven't discovered your real identity yet—Forge is just a street name, and you're good at covering your tracks. But you, little sister..." She turned her gaze back to Artemis. "You're lucky Dad still has contacts in that underworld. He's holding the reins for now, pulling strings to delay the hunt. But know that his contacts won't last forever. Soon, you'll be receiving unwanted visitors. And that's why you have to be prepared."
Artemis swallowed hard, her previous blush now replaced by a subtle pallor of worry. "Dad? Is he involved in this?"
Jade nodded, her tone practical. "He's always around, one way or another. But don't count on him to save you. Warn your friends—warn the League, warn Batman, or whoever's in charge of that bunch of brats. See what they can do to protect you. Or..." She paused, a defiant smile on her lips. "Take it out yourselves. Grow up. After all, you're the ones who put yourselves in this situation. You chose this life, even knowing you could escape it. Heroes, vigilantes... it's all the same dangerous shit."
The terrace fell silent for a moment, broken only by the distant hum of sirens in the city below. Erick felt the weight of the words—this was the DC universe in action: threats escalating, villains uniting, and heroes forced to evolve or die. But for him, reincarnated with memories of a safe world, this was fuel. His ultimate goal—absolute power to never be a victim—gained more urgency. Artemis, for her part, seemed thoughtful, her fingers drumming on her crossed arm.
Jade straightened up, adjusting her jacket as if preparing to leave. She turned toward the door, but stopped mid-way, glancing over her shoulder at Erick with a look that was pure venom wrapped in silk. "And you, Forge... or Erick, whichever you prefer. If anything happens to my little sister because of you—if she gets hurt because you dragged her along on yet another of your clandestine patrols or crazy schemes—I'll come after you. And believe me, I'm good at what I do. One of the best."
Erick held her gaze, his blue eyes unwavering, the elemental fire heating his blood like a promise of retaliation. He didn't blink, his voice deep and resolute. "Nothing will happen to Artemis while I'm alive. I guarantee it."
Jade shook her head slowly, a mixture of skepticism and reluctant approval on her face. "I hope so, handsome. Because if not... well, you're not going to like what comes next." She turned her back, opening the door with a creak and disappearing down the dark stairs, her footsteps echoing like a final warning.
The terrace fell silent again, now heavier. Erick and Artemis stood there, the cold Gotham night wind drying the sweat from their skin. He turned to her, noticing how her shoulders were still tense, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths. "She's right about one thing: we need to prepare. But that doesn't change anything. We've dealt with Black Mask before; we'll deal with whatever comes next."
Artemis nodded, but his eyes betrayed a vulnerability he rarely saw. "Yeah... but ten million? Terminator? Gunslinger? That's big, Erick. Bigger than street patrols."
He leaned closer, lightly touching her arm—a gesture that sent a spark of warmth between them, recalling their almost-kiss that had been interrupted. "So let's get bigger. Together." Their eyes locked, and for a second, the chemistry flared up again, the Artemis Protocol advancing even in the shadow of the threat.
But the DC universe wasn't expecting it. The hunt had begun, and Erick knew it: this was just another step on the ladder to absolute power. The mansion with Baymax protected the family; now, it was time to forge alliances and weapons to protect what he was building here, on the rooftop of a doomed city.
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