The basement of Smith Manor pulsed with an electric energy, like the mechanical heart of a sleeping beast. LED lights embedded in the reinforced steel beams—which Erick had installed to simulate a high-tech bunker—illuminated the space with a cold, blue glow, highlighting shelves crammed with half-assembled prototypes: weapons transmuted with arcane runes, high-density batteries that hummed faintly, and boxes of electronic components scattered like the treasures of a mad inventor. In the center, a wall of monitors dominated the view, with a colossal main screen, curved like a cinematic panorama, displaying a high-resolution digitized map of Gotham. Red dots blinked and moved across the urban layout: labyrinthine streets, dark alleys, and uneven rooftops. Some dots moved slowly, like predators circling prey; others remained static, perhaps in hiding or awaiting orders. Smaller screens flanked the main one, displaying feeds from hacked cameras, suspect profiles, and motion pattern analyses generated by Natasha.
Erick stood before the setup, the Forge suit — Cloak v2.1 — fitted to his body like a second skin. The matte black material with tactical gray details molded to his defined muscles, his broad shoulders and ripped abs visible beneath the reinforced alchemical kevlar. His helmet was tucked away, retracted into the collar of his tactical jacket, revealing his messy black hair and piercing blue eyes, fixed on the map. Beside him, Artemis was similarly uniformed: the tight green and black suit highlighted her athletic curves, her long, muscular legs stretched out in a ready stance, the compact bow strapped to her back and the quiver full of customized arrows. Her blonde hair was tied back in a practical bun, and her green eyes scanned the screen with trained intensity.
"These are the points we managed to locate," said Erick, pointing to the map with a fluid gesture, his finger tracing red lines connecting the flashing icons. "Confirmed assassins and criminals who accepted Black Mask's contract. Not all of them—these guys are ghosts when they want to be—but enough to get started. About twenty in total, scattered throughout Old Gotham, the Docks, and even the East End. The ones moving are probably on patrol, sniffing out clues about us. The stationary ones? They might be setting up ambushes or waiting for reinforcements."
Artemis crossed her arms, leaning forward to examine the details. A red dot moved slowly across the map, tracing an erratic route through the alleys near the Bowery. "You worked fast, huh? Jade only told us a day ago, and you've already mapped half the city's scum."
Erick smiled slightly, turning to her, his eyes meeting hers for a second longer than necessary—a subtle reminder of the tension that had hung between them since their near-kiss on the rooftop. "Thanks to you and Natasha. You pulled the right strings with your underworld contacts, and she hacked the rest. That info from your father was gold: he monopolized the contract in your head for now, right? Like, he bought time pretending he was going to deal with you personally. Indirect but effective protection. We gained a few days before the crowd comes drooling over the ten million."
Artemis nodded, a mixed expression of gratitude and irritation crossing her face. Her father, Sportsmaster, was a shadowy figure in her life—an abusive coach who had molded her into a living weapon, but who, on rare occasions, showed blood ties. "Yeah. He's not the hero of the story, but he knows how to manipulate the game. Nobody will mess with me while he 'claims' the prize. But you... Forge is still a mystery to them. Nobody knows who you really are, where you live, nothing. That gives us an advantage. They'll target me first, thinking I'm the weak link."
Erick chuckled softly, the sound echoing in the basement like a satisfied snore. He adjusted the repulsor shield on his forearm, feeling the subtle magnetic hum against his skin. "Weak link? They have no idea. Our job now is to crush these idiots, make the ten million look like a bad joke. We'll pulverize bones, cripple spines—as aggressively as possible. If Batman can do it and still sleep at night, so can we."
Artemis raised an eyebrow, a defiant smile on her lips, her green eyes sparkling with excitement. She touched the bow on her back, feeling the familiar weight of the arrows. "Certainly. Speaking of Batman and Robin... do you have any location for them? If things get heated, maybe we can call for reinforcements."
Erick shook his head, returning his gaze to the screen. He'd been hacking into the League's channels for days, just to monitor their movements. "I talked to Dick—I mean, you talked to him, right? He mentioned they're on a mission with the Justice League. Off-Earth, something about a cosmic threat. Great for us: it means Gotham is our playground tonight. We're going to give these killers a bath of pain they'll never forget."
Artemis nodded, a subtle blush rising to her cheeks as she recalled her conversation with Dick Grayson—Robin, her former crush, now a distant friend. But with Erick by her side, the chemistry was palpable, a slow fire that the Artemis Protocol had patiently nurtured. "Perfect. No Bat-Signal getting in our way. Let's go."
Erick stood, his suit creaking slightly with the movement, and gestured for her to follow him. They walked through the underground corridor he had excavated weeks before—a wide tunnel reinforced with transmuted titanium plates, illuminated by LED strips that flashed in sync with the security systems. The air was fresh, filtered by fans he had integrated into the transmutation circle, and the sound of their footsteps echoed like a war drum. As they walked, Erick continued his planning, his voice low and strategic, a mixture of pragmatism with a hint of dark excitement.
"We can do this in two ways: split up to cover more ground, or stick together and take them down as a team. I vote for splitting up—it maximizes the impact—but maintaining constant communication via HUD. My brain implant syncs with your communicator; we'll check status every five minutes. If one of us disappears off the radar, the other will rescue. The initial targets are elite assassins: guys like Deadlock, with his telescopic sight, or KGBeast, the blade specialist. But the worst? Deathstroke. We're still working on the plan for him—Natasha is simulating scenarios right now. I don't know if he's already in the city or if he's on the hunt, but let's assume he is. Work cautiously: no lone heroes running into traps."
Artemis walked beside him, her magnetically gripped boots firmly planted on the concrete floor. She adjusted her quiver, feeling the weight of the explosive arrows Erick had customized for her—tips transmuted with impact runes. "I agree. Separation makes sense. Can you send me the details of my targets? I want the ones that fit my style: long-range archery, quick ambushes. No heavy street fighting for me alone."
Erick nodded, touching the collar of his suit to activate the retractable HUD—a thin visor that descended over his eyes, projecting holographic data. "Sending it now. I've identified the best ones for you: about five in the East End, stealth specialists, but vulnerable to long-range attacks. It'll be easy to take them down—aim for the joints, disable without killing if possible, but if necessary... well, Gotham doesn't mourn assassins."
The corridor stretched for another fifty meters or so, curving slightly downwards, leading to a deeper section that Erick used as a makeshift garage. The air was more metallic there, smelling of oil and freshly soldered circuits. At the end, an armored door—transformed from ordinary steel into an impenetrable alloy—detected his approach via a brain implant and opened with a pneumatic hiss, revealing a large chamber illuminated by automatic spotlights.
Inside, the vehicle awaited like a sleeping beast: an unmarked car, completely black, with angular and aggressive lines that made it look like a disguised urban tank. It was large—the height of a military SUV, wide enough to accommodate extra equipment—with wheels reinforced by transmuted run-flat tires and a body that glowed faintly in the light, as if absorbing shadows. Erick had worked on it for an entire week, fusing human technology with arcane alchemy: a high-powered electric motor, driven by dense LiPo batteries he had created in the transmutation circle.
Artemis stopped, giving a low whistle of admiration, her green eyes wide. "Impressive. This looks like something out of a spy movie. What exactly does it do?"
Erick smiled, approaching and running his hand over the smooth surface—the E10 metal, an alloy he had invented by mixing titanium with transmuted elements, resistant to bullets, fire, and moderate impacts. "This is my latest project. Call it a tactical mobility prototype. It has built-in weapons: tranquilizer dart launchers, non-lethal gas for crowd dispersal. Enough arrows in the rear compartment to fuel our crusade for months—customized for you, even. Durability? It can withstand a hail of bullets, light bombs, even moderate explosions. Strong explosions... well, let's hope we don't have to test them. E10 is the strongest metal I've worked with so far—dense, but light thanks to the runes of lightness."
"Speed? A top speed of 350 km/h in a straight line, with autonomous AI piloting that avoids obstacles at high speed: slow cars, pedestrians, even projectiles if detected in time. It programs escape routes in seconds, based on real traffic data hacked by Natasha. Extra arsenal: reconnaissance drones on the roof, holographic camouflage system to blend into traffic. And the best part: ejector launchers that propel us into the sky, synchronized with gliding wings to glide in any direction."
Artemis circled the vehicle, touching the driver's door, which opened automatically upon detecting Erick. "Great. When are you going to make one of these for me? I deserve it, after all these patrols."
Erick laughed, a genuine sound that echoed in the camera, as he got into the driver's side. The interior was minimalist: ergonomic synthetic leather seats, holographic panels on the dashboard, and a fresh smell of electronics. "Pretty easy. Maybe in the next upgrade. Get in."
Artemis slid into the passenger seat, adjusting the tactical seatbelt that fastened itself. Erick touched the center console, and the car came to life with a low hum. A deep, efficient, synthetic voice echoed through the speakers: "Greetings, creator. Systems online. Awaiting commands."
Erick smiled, closing his eyes for a second to synchronize via the brain implant—the anti-telepathy chip that also served as a neural interface. He sent the data: routes to the targets, security protocols, integration with Artemis's HUD. The car's interior began to glow faintly with internal holograms—maps, vital statuses, alerts—but the exterior remained opaque, invisible to outside eyes thanks to an arcane distortion field.
The vehicle accelerated smoothly, a hidden ramp in the chamber floor rotating to reveal an underground exit. They climbed at increasing speed, the electric motor purring like a predator. The ramp ended in a hidden garden behind the mansion—a labyrinth of tall bushes and a false fence that opened like a secret door. The car jumped a subtle elevation, landing with shock absorbers that absorbed the impact without a jolt, and shot down the private road leading to the main highway. In seconds, they reached 300 km/h, the aerodynamic design cutting through the air like a blade, the world outside blurring into lines of city lights.
Artemis gripped the armrest, but smiled, the imaginary wind howling despite the perfect soundproofing. "What's the name of this beauty? Something epic, like 'Shadow Runner' or 'Forge Mobile'?"
Erick kept his eyes on the holographic road projected onto the windshield, but his tone was light, almost flirtatious. "I haven't decided yet. If you have a good idea, just say so. For now, it's just 'the car.' Let's focus on the mission—Gotham awaits us, and these assassins will learn that ten million isn't worth the hell we're about to unleash."
As they sped toward the city, the map on the dashboard flashed with approaching targets. The night promised violence, but for Erick, it was just another step toward absolute power—with Artemis by his side, their emotional harem growing stronger amidst the chaos. Gotham trembled in the distance, oblivious to the approaching hurricane.
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