The last voices of the school day still echoed through the hallways, but the courtyard was already starting to empty. The sky carried hues of gold and lavender, and the distant sound of engines starting filled the air with hurried farewells.
Clark leaned against the pickup truck, arms crossed. The key twirled slowly between his fingers.
Chloe appeared from the opposite side, her hair tied in a high bun and her backpack slung over her shoulder with the ease of someone carrying the entire day inside it.
"You're not heading out?"
Clark turned his face slightly, a half-smile at the corner of his lips.
"Waiting."
Chloe stopped beside him, her eyes narrowing against the soft light of late afternoon.
"Waiting for who? I thought you'd be racing back to the farm today."
"I am."
He twirled the key one last time and tucked it into his coat pocket.
"With Alicia."
The pause between the words was subtle. But Chloe heard it. And felt it.
"Oh."
The response came out too dry. She noticed and corrected her tone with a small smile.
"She's going with you to your parents' place?"
"Yeah."
Clark looked toward the school entrance. The glass door stood still.
"She's meeting me here at the exit."
Chloe rested her hand on the truck's hood, her touch light but steady.
"You guys are really… doing that kind of thing together?"
"What kind?"
"Like… visiting your parents."
She let out a short laugh, glancing at her own fingers.
"You didn't let her work with your mom before, and now you're introducing her to your parents?"
Clark didn't answer right away.
The breeze tousled a few strands of Chloe's hair. The sky began to darken behind her, tinting the background with silent hues.
"It's different."
She nodded slowly, the forced smile returning.
"Of course it is."
The silence between them lasted the length of a car peeling out in the parking lot. The tires screeched louder than they should have.
Clark noticed the shift in her gaze. But he didn't comment. Or tease.
Chloe zipped her backpack shut with a quick pull.
"Well… since you two have couple plans, I'm heading out."
"Chloe."
She turned her face, trying to keep her tone light.
"No need to lecture me, Clark. It's all good."
Clark didn't respond.
He just watched as she walked away with quick steps. The sound of her boots against the asphalt faded gradually.
He let out a low sigh.
'You wanted me to say something else.'
But she also knew he noticed—and that he never used the word "jealousy."
He turned back to the school door.
Alicia still hadn't come out.
---
The girls' bathroom was empty. The last student had left fifteen minutes earlier.
A golden glow sliced through the space between the sinks with a subtle crackle in the air.
Alicia appeared in the center of the tiled floor, still holding a hairbrush. Her eyes moved first, scanning the silence. Then her body relaxed.
She approached the mirror.
Her fitted white blouse accentuated her silhouette with understated elegance. The dark jeans, plain with no rips or flashy details. Her hair was pinned to the side with a pearl clip. Nothing extravagant.
Just enough to seem trustworthy.
Her gaze searched for imperfections. A stray eyelash. A slight shine at the corner of her nose. A loose thread at the collar of her blouse.
Her hands adjusted everything with precision.
"Breathe."
Her voice was low, restrained.
Alicia ran her fingers through the ends of her hair.
"I can't seem desperate."
Her heart was beating faster than necessary.
She leaned closer to the mirror.
"You've been there before. No one hated you. It was just… awkward."
'But now it's different.'
'Now he wants me there.'
'Now it's official.'
She squeezed her eyes shut for a second.
'I'm the girl he chose. The one he took to the movies. The one he invited to be with his family.'
'Nothing else matters.'
One final touch to the corner of her lips. A practiced half-smile.
"I hope my in-laws like me."
The words were tossed into the air like a spell, or a promise.
She gripped the hairbrush tighter.
Turned toward the door.
Left the bathroom without looking back.
---
The glass door creaked. Clark looked up.
Alicia crossed the hallway with steady steps, her loose hair swaying gently over her shoulders.
Her smile came before any words.
"Was I long?"
Clark shook his head.
"Nope."
She stopped in front of him, her eyes gleaming with something beyond the late afternoon light.
"You look great."
He adjusted his coat collar with a quick gesture.
"And you look perfect."
She stepped closer without hesitation. Her hand brushed his sleeve, a light, almost automatic gesture.
"Thanks for inviting me."
"I said I'd make it worth it."
Clark opened the truck door. She climbed in carefully, her jeans settling against the seat. He walked around, got in, and started the engine.
The afternoon breeze flooded the cab with the scent of flowers and dust.
Alicia leaned her head against the headrest.
"Do you think they'll like me?"
Clark drove calmly.
"They already do. Even without knowing it."
She smiled.
The tires rolled smoothly along the road.
The sun, now low, painted the fields with orange and gold.
And for the first time since the start of that day, Alicia felt the world was exactly where it should be.
Even if, further ahead, something dark awaited them.
---
Wayne Enterprises Sublevel – Gotham
The elevator descended silently. The interior lights cast a sterile glow on the polished metal, while the digital floor display counted invisible levels. The screen didn't show numbers—just a pulsing red line.
Bruce kept his hands in his pockets. His gaze distant, his posture relaxed, but his eyes… his eyes scanned everything.
Lucius Fox stood beside him, holding a tablet.
"You did well with the board today."
Bruce didn't react immediately. He only turned his face slightly.
"You sound surprised."
"Not surprised. Impressed."
Lucius spun the tablet in his hand.
"Convincing a group of traumatized executives not to sell their shares in a city where everything blows up weekly… that takes finesse."
Bruce let out a faint sigh.
"I prefer to think of it as well-disguised emotional blackmail."
"Well, it worked."
The elevator stopped.
The doors opened.
The corridor ahead was wide, lined with reinforced steel. The white lights above cast long shadows. Cameras tracked their movement as they advanced.
"I kept everything in order down here, as you asked."
"Even with the military board's cuts?"
Lucius made a vague gesture with his hand.
"They canceled the project. But the tech already existed. It'd be a sin to let it rust."
Bruce's eyes swept over the automatic doors opening one by one, revealing technical rooms and testing bays.
"You got new toys?"
Lucius smiled.
"Maybe."
They entered a spacious hall with a high ceiling and thick concrete floor. At the center, a raised platform held a structure covered by a black tarp.
Nearby, mannequins displayed various military prototype suits.
Dark fabrics. Metal reinforcements at vital points. Minimalist but functional design.
"Titanium hybrid fiber with industrial spandex. Near-proof to everything."
Lucius activated the control panel. The lights above the mannequins intensified.
"Light, flexible, resistant to shrapnel and medium-caliber bullets. Designed for special units in the desert. But the government cut it during testing."
Bruce approached one of the mannequins. His fingers traced the reinforced collar. He felt the texture—cold, with nearly imperceptible ridges.
"Can it handle a three-story fall?"
"If you land on your feet, yes. If you roll, it'll hold without major fractures."
"Good margin."
Lucius smiled.
"You always push the limits, don't you?"
Bruce didn't answer.
He moved to the covered structure on the central platform.
"Can I?"
"Go ahead."
Bruce pulled the tarp off in a single motion.
The sound of the fabric being removed echoed through the sublevel like a mechanical sigh.
Beneath it, a car.
Angular. Low. The front resembled a panther's snout. Reinforced wheels. The rear concealed compact propulsion nozzles.
"Light urban infiltration tank. Styled to intimidate in war zones."
Lucius spun the tablet and displayed the specs.
"Four tons. Adaptive suspension. Level 4 armor. Segmented chassis to withstand impact and stay mobile under crossfire."
Bruce circled the vehicle in silence. His eyes absorbed every curve, every recess.
He rested a hand on the hood.
"Acceleration time to 100 km/h?"
"Under five seconds. With the rear thrusters, it can drift an entire block before stopping."
"Does the engine sing loud?"
"Quiet enough to go unnoticed in an alley. Loud enough to scare dealers on a corner."
Bruce completed a full circle.
Stopped by the side door, still sealed.
"Got it in black?"
Lucius stifled a laugh.
"You and your funeral aesthetic. But yeah. Matte, carbon, or minimal gloss. Your choice."
Bruce nodded, his fingers gliding along the lines of the impact-proof glass.
"This project was canceled for cost, right?"
"And fear."
Lucius swiped his fingers across the tablet and pulled up a video. The screen showed a field test: the car smashing through concrete barricades, deploying smoke, and weaving through tight obstacles.
"The military thought it was too much for civilian fields. Feared it'd look like a dictatorship on wheels."
Bruce watched.
His eyes locked on the screen. The car leaped over a drop, landed with surgical precision, and vanished among abandoned buildings.
He stayed silent.
Lucius pocketed the tablet.
"You never tell me why you're interested in this stuff, Bruce."
Bruce turned, meeting his friend's gaze.
"And you never really ask."
Lucius smiled faintly.
"You're a Wayne. You've always had a thing for dangerous toys."
"Toys save lives, sometimes."
"Or change their course."
Bruce looked back at the mannequins.
One had a dark visor built into the hood.
"That one… eye protection?"
"Multifunctional visor. Reacts to light, heat, and identifies shapes in the dark. Doubles as a HUD."
"Can it track human heat?"
Lucius hesitated for a second.
"If it's in the right range… yes."
"Good tool."
Lucius crossed his arms.
"You've been a lot more interested in this since that night."
"That night gave me reasons."
"You think it'll happen again?"
Bruce turned slowly.
"In Gotham? Always."
Lucius leaned against the workbench.
"You seem different. More focused. More… suspicious."
"It's not suspicion. It's preparation."
"For what?"
Bruce surveyed the room.
The lights above cast sharp shadows over the mannequins.
"For when the theater isn't enough."
Lucius held his gaze for a few seconds.
"You going to tell me what you're planning?"
Bruce walked to the wall, where a metal panel awaited unlocking.
"No."
"Will you include me?"
"If I need you… yes."
Lucius gave a tired smile.
"It's always like this, isn't it? You give me pieces of a puzzle. But never the box with the full picture."
"It's better that way."
"For who?"
Bruce didn't answer.
The panel opened.
It revealed a new row of empty vertical compartments. Tailor-made for personal items… or tools.
Lucius watched in silence.
The hum of the electrical system buzzed softly in the walls.
Bruce stared at the empty space of the newly exposed cabinet.
There, where the world couldn't yet see… an idea was taking shape.
Not with ink.
But with steel, matte black, and silence.
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