Chapter One: The Second Life
Waking up in Gotham wasn't exactly a dream come true.
Cold light spilled in through the cracked blinds of a dingy apartment window, painting dust motes in pale gold. The smell of burnt coffee lingered in the air. Rain tapped against the glass like impatient fingers. It was the kind of morning that made people turn over and try to sleep the day away. But sleep never helped him.
Not since he came back.
Nineteen. Again, technically. The body was his, more or less. But the soul inside felt older—like it had walked through lifetimes and only just now remembered how to breathe.
He didn't have a name for what happened. No glowing portals. No white-robed beings or light at the end of the tunnel. Just darkness. Then pain. Then… here.
Gotham.
A city where shadows had names and rooftops had watchers. He didn't know why he ended up here. But if the city wanted to chew him up and spit him out, it would have to get in line.
He adjusted the jacket on his shoulders—too big, thrifted, probably belonged to someone who needed it more. He was getting used to that now. Taking things, blending in, watching. The world moved fast, but he was faster now. Somehow. He could feel it, buzzing under his skin. Like something was waiting. Sleeping. Just under the surface.
The first time it happened, it was subtle. A spark in his fingertips when he touched the old TV, and suddenly it came to life without being plugged in. The second time, he stopped a mug from shattering in mid-air. It hovered. Just for a second. Long enough to make him stare.
He didn't know what he was. Yet.
But something told him this wasn't random. That he hadn't just been tossed into this life like a coin down a well. There was intention behind it.
And in the quiet moments between noise and sleep, he felt it—a presence. Not a voice, not exactly. More like a weight in the room. A comfort. An ancient kind of love. Something massive and unknowable, watching.
A gift. That's what it felt like.
He stepped outside, boots hitting cracked pavement. The city was waking up, or maybe it never slept. Neon lights buzzed, sirens wailed faintly in the distance. Somewhere a woman laughed—a sharp, beautiful sound that made him turn his head. Gotham had its edges, but it also had fire. People here lived like every day was a dare.
He liked that.
And yeah—he noticed the girls. The ones with sharp eyes and easy smiles. Gotham women didn't waste time. Some of them looked like they could kill you with a glance. He liked that too.
He still didn't know his purpose. But he knew one thing: he wasn't normal. Not anymore.
And maybe that wasn't a curse.
Maybe it was the beginning of something bigger.
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