The meeting room emptied as Kian's team dispersed to carry out their preparations, leaving him alone with his thoughts. The quiet hum of the base offered little comfort as his mind churned through the steps ahead. The coded message about Black Mask's growing resistance had been a spark—a reminder that while his control over Gotham was tightening, the city's old kings wouldn't surrender their crowns without a fight.
Kian leaned forward over the table, staring at the map of Gotham illuminated on the surface. Black Mask's territory, shaded in dark red, was clustered in a strategic corner of the city. His network of enforcers and loyalists made him a stubborn opponent, but Kian knew it was more than muscle that had kept the crime lord alive this long. Roman Sionis was calculating, vicious, and unafraid to sacrifice anyone to maintain his power.
It wasn't fear that gnawed at Kian as he considered his next move—it was strategy. A direct attack on Black Mask's operations would be expected, and Sionis would already have contingencies in place. Kian needed a different approach, one that would strike at the heart of Black Mask's empire and leave him with no way out.
His telekinesis flared subconsciously, causing the pen on the table to rise and spin lazily in the air. He caught it mid-motion, his grip tightening as a thought struck him. Black Mask doesn't need to be dismantled piece by piece. He needs to be undone entirely.
The air in Gotham had a tangible tension, like the moments before a storm. Black Mask's lieutenants moved nervously through the shadows, spreading word of Sionis's dissatisfaction. He had seen too many of his allies fall under Kian Mathis's control, either through coercion, intimidation, or outright destruction. Now, the crime lord was cornered, and a cornered predator was always the most dangerous.
Kian's intel had been right—Black Mask wasn't simply lying low. He was rallying his forces, calling in debts from smaller gangs that owed him favors. Arms shipments were arriving in secret through Gotham's less-patrolled docks. Word was spreading about mercenaries being hired from outside the city, figures who operated in places even the Justice League barely touched.
Roman Sionis wasn't planning to submit. He was preparing for war.
Kian summoned his inner circle back to the meeting room late in the evening. The holographic map of Gotham was active again, but this time the focus wasn't just on Black Mask's territory. Smaller markers lit up, showing key points of interest: weapon stashes, known safe houses, and smuggling routes.
Deadshot, Deathstroke, and Red Hood sat around the table, their expressions varying from mild interest to grim readiness. They all knew the stakes, and none of them doubted Kian's ability to see the plan through.
"Black Mask is making his move," Kian began, his voice steady. "He's arming up, rallying gangs, and trying to bring in outsiders. If we let him gain momentum, it'll spark chaos in Gotham, and that's something we can't afford."
Red Hood leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "So, we put him down. Permanently."
Deadshot smirked. "Always the blunt one, huh, Todd?"
Jason shrugged. "It works."
Kian raised a hand to quiet them. "We don't just need to stop him; we need to erase him. Black Mask is a symbol to a lot of the old guard. If we take him out in a way that sends a message, everyone else considering rebellion will think twice."
Deathstroke, ever the strategist, leaned forward. "You're suggesting more than just a hit. You want to dismantle his entire operation in one strike."
Kian nodded. "Exactly. But we do it on our terms. We're not rushing in blind. I want to use his arrogance against him."
Red Hood tilted his head. "What's the play, then?"
Kian gestured to the map, highlighting a warehouse near the docks. "We leak information. Let him think he's got a shot at ambushing us. He'll pour his resources into a single strike, and when he does, we'll be ready. By the time he realizes what's happening, his entire network will be gone, and he'll have no one left to back him up."
Deadshot whistled low. "Bold. Risky. I like it."
Deathstroke grunted. "It's solid. But we need to control the narrative. If he catches wind that we're setting him up, this all falls apart."
"Leave that to me," Kian replied. "We'll spread the information through channels we know he trusts. He'll think he's found a crack in our armor."
Red Hood cracked his knuckles. "When this goes down, I'm taking point. I owe Sionis for a few things."
Kian studied him for a moment before nodding. "Fine. But stick to the plan. This isn't just about taking him out; it's about making a statement."
The room fell silent as the weight of the plan settled over them. Each of them knew what was at stake—not just for Kian's growing empire, but for Gotham itself.
Elsewhere in Gotham, Roman Sionis sat in his office, a glass of whiskey in his hand. The reports from his lieutenants weren't encouraging. Kian Mathis was consolidating power faster than anyone had anticipated, and the rumors about his growing abilities were starting to spread.
Sionis slammed the glass down on his desk, his anger bubbling to the surface.
"This city belongs to me," he growled.
His most trusted lieutenant, a burly enforcer named Victor, stood nearby. "The men are ready, boss. Say the word, and we'll hit Mathis hard."
Sionis hesitated, his mind racing. A full-scale war with Kian Mathis wasn't just risky—it was suicidal. But letting him continue unchecked wasn't an option either.
"Get the word out," Sionis finally said. "We're moving on Mathis. If he wants a war, we'll give him one."
Victor nodded and left the room, leaving Sionis alone with his thoughts. As the crime lord stared out over Gotham, his hands tightened into fists. He had ruled this city once, and he wasn't about to let some upstart take it from him.
But deep down, a small part of him wondered if he was making a mistake.