He closed his eyes, focusing, pushing his mind outward in an effort to test the limits of his telekinesis. For a moment, he thought he could feel the faint pulse of Gotham's heartbeat, a rhythmic thrum that mirrored his own. He could sense every street, every shadowed alleyway, every rooftop lurking under the city's dense, suffocating atmosphere. The sensation was intoxicating, almost overwhelming, as his telekinesis touched the lives and movements of thousands within Gotham's depths. He could feel the tension, the fear, the simmering aggression—an entire city waiting on the precipice of something it couldn't yet see coming. And Kian was the one pulling the strings.
His concentration sharpened, zeroing in on specific presences he knew well: his lieutenants spread throughout the city, their faint energy signatures glimmering like small lights in his mind. And then… another light. A familiar one, moving quickly across the city's rooftops, heading straight toward his location.
It was Nightwing.
Kian smiled, feeling the pulse of excitement quicken. So, the hero had taken the bait after all.
He reached for his communicator, patching into Jason's line. "He's on his way," Kian said, his voice a murmur but carrying an undeniable edge. "You were right. Nightwing's following the trail you left for him."
Jason's voice crackled over the line. "How close is he?"
"Close enough that I can sense him," Kian replied, his voice calm. "He'll be here soon."
There was a pause on the other end before Jason spoke again, a touch of hesitation in his tone. "Do you want me to intercept?"
"No," Kian said, his voice firm. "Let him come. I want to see this through personally."
Kian knew this was more than just a test of Nightwing's abilities. This was a chance to gauge how far his own powers could stretch, how precise his telekinesis could be when it came to handling a trained and unpredictable opponent.
He leaned back in his chair, letting the tension build, feeling Nightwing's approach like a growing hum in his mind. The familiar feeling of the city beneath his command gave him a sense of control he hadn't felt in years—maybe ever. Nightwing had always been formidable, but tonight, Kian was ready to show just how much he'd grown beyond the limitations of ordinary strength or strategy.
In the darkness of his secure office, Kian reached out with his telekinesis, flicking off the lights with a thought. Shadows swallowed the room, leaving it in near-total darkness. He wanted Nightwing to feel the weight of his presence, the intensity of his focus. No longer just a name in Gotham's underworld, Kian was becoming something far more powerful, more dangerous than anything Nightwing could have expected.
The door to his office clicked open without a sound, and Kian didn't move as he sensed a figure slip inside, as silent as a ghost. But Kian could feel the faint rush of adrenaline in Nightwing's body, sense the controlled, rhythmic breathing of a man trained for battle.
The darkness didn't bother Nightwing; he thrived in it as much as Kian did. The two of them were like reflections, opposites forced together by fate. And now, in this darkened room, their paths finally collided.
"Impressive," Kian said softly, breaking the silence. "Most wouldn't have made it this far."
Nightwing's voice was equally calm, steady. "Not many leave trails as obvious as yours. You wanted me to find you."
Kian allowed himself a small smile. "Guilty. I thought it might be time for us to meet."
Nightwing took a step forward, his stance cautious, prepared. "So who are you, then? The new player in town? The one pushing Gotham's criminals into line?"
Kian rose from his chair slowly, his movements calm and controlled. Even in the darkness, he could feel Nightwing's gaze on him, studying, calculating.
"My name," Kian said, his voice low, almost contemplative, "is of no consequence to you. What matters is that I'm here to bring Gotham—and eventually, far more than Gotham—to order. To a justice neither Batman nor his allies have ever managed."
Nightwing's jaw tightened at the mention of Batman, but his voice remained steady. "Justice, huh? Funny word for someone who's been tearing through Gotham's underworld like a wrecking ball."
Kian took a step forward, matching Nightwing's intensity. "Because you don't understand what real justice is. You think Batman's way works, don't you? That the revolving door of Arkham is some sort of solution?"
He could sense the brief flicker of doubt in Nightwing's mind, the faint crack in his convictions. And in that moment, Kian felt his telekinesis sharpen, focusing on that vulnerability.
"Tell me, Nightwing," Kian continued, his voice a razor's edge, "how many times have you watched criminals walk free, only to hurt more innocent people? How many times have you fought, only to realize nothing changes?"
Nightwing's gaze was unwavering, though Kian sensed the flash of bitterness behind his steady expression. "We don't kill. That's what separates us from people like you."
Kian's smirk widened, his telekinetic energy swirling around him, faintly lifting objects in the room. Papers rustled, pens drifted upward, and the air itself felt heavy with a tension that went beyond words.
"People like me?" Kian echoed. "No, Nightwing. People like me are the only reason Gotham is still standing. Because we're willing to do what needs to be done."
In one fluid movement, he raised a hand, and Nightwing suddenly found himself lifted from the ground, held in mid-air by an invisible force. Kian could feel the strain in Nightwing's body as he tried to fight against the telekinetic grip, his muscles taut, his mind struggling to find an escape.
But Kian's control was absolute. He could feel every fiber of Nightwing's resistance, every movement of his limbs as if they were an extension of his own body.
Nightwing's voice was tight, strained but defiant. "Is this… how you define justice?"
Kian held him there, suspended in the air, just for a moment longer. "Justice isn't soft, Nightwing. Justice isn't merciful. It's a force that eradicates those who stand in its way."
With a flick of his hand, he released Nightwing, allowing him to drop back to the floor. Nightwing landed with practiced grace, barely faltering as he straightened, his eyes blazing.
"You're no better than the criminals you're trying to control," Nightwing spat, his voice sharp.
Kian chuckled, a dark edge in his voice. "Maybe that's true. But unlike them, I'll succeed. Gotham—and soon other cities—will fall in line. My vision doesn't rely on half-measures or empty promises."
Nightwing took a step back, his fists clenched. "People like you always think you're untouchable. But Gotham's seen men like you before. They all fall eventually."
Kian's smirk faded, his gaze turning cold. "We'll see, Nightwing. But for your sake, I'd suggest you don't try to get in my way."
Nightwing didn't respond, his jaw clenched as he studied Kian, sizing him up, as though looking for some weakness, some flaw. And then, without another word, he vanished into the shadows, slipping back the way he'd come.
As the silence settled over the room once more, Kian felt a strange thrill settle in his chest. Nightwing had escaped, yes, but Kian hadn't intended to stop him tonight. This was a warning, a message sent to Gotham's heroes: Kian was here, and he wasn't like any of the threats they'd faced before.
He turned back to his desk, feeling the power still coursing through him, a raw energy that had only grown stronger from his encounter. He was ready, his empire growing more solid by the day, and now the heroes of Gotham knew what they were up against.
And with each new step, Kian felt his purpose crystallize, sharper and clearer than ever. The heroes might think they could stop him, but Kian knew better. This was his city now—no, his world. And soon, everyone would see that.