Ethan walked out of the school, thankfully with no more people bothering him; causing him headaches or just trying to beat him up for no reason other than he was poor.
Now he could go home and go to sleep as his dreams were the most interesting part of his day.
Though a small part of him did enjoy working on those childish rocket boots that Barbara was developing.
‘Even if it was absurdly easy to fix,’ he thought to himself as he continued walking down the path out of the academy gates.
*bzzzz*
It seems he spoke too soon, someone else was right on schedule to bother him once more.
Ethan slipped his hand into his pocket and took his phone out; the message on the screen showed he had 27 missed calls from his Mom.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she wanted.
‘Still though…
27 missed calls, she missed be starting withdrawal…
That could be annoying.” It also meant the old man was tweaking too, and he was a lot more annoying than his mother was.
A couple dozen solutions bounced through his mind, most of them were too violent and opened up a slew of other problems he’d eventually have to deal with.
The easiest solution would be to get them what they want; they’d dose themselves into a drugged up stupor and for the next few days—maybe even a week—Ethan would be free of their annoying behaviour.
While this might hurt the average persons pride, Ethan was no such person.
He had no pride, he didn’t care if he lost—though he rarely did.
Gotham didn’t exactly have a shortage of drug dealers, Ethan could easily take one of them out and take the product.
What would they do?
Call the police?
“Maybe Artemis is right…” he thought to himself as he left Gotham Academy and started the long trek back to his apartment.
Why did he stay with those degenerates?
He could live on his own; it wouldn’t be hard to find his own place.
He wouldn’t have to worry about his things getting stolen, wouldn’t have to deal with his parents trying to break his door down whenever they get drunk.
The most logical move would be to leave and yet for so long he’d stayed there.
Ethan let a small smile grace his features.
“I must be broken…” he muttered to himself.
To think someone with his intelligence would do something so idiotic.
But then again hell is hell, doesn’t matter if you have a place with a window.
*SIRENS*
Several police cars raced past Ethan on the street as they headed downtown, a common sight in Gotham.
At least it would make things easier for him when he picked his target.
Ethan looked around and began inspecting the various Gothamites around him.
He focused on several people at once noting important information about them that might give him hints as to what they were.
His eyes moved across the street, watching people pass by.
He was watching their hands, their posture, the way they moved, what they wore, how they wore it, everything was important.
He looked at a man walking fast with his head down.
His shirt was worn thin at the collar, and the back of his hand had faded blue stains.
His tie was loose.
His shoes had one sole starting to come apart.
Ethan watched his fingers flex as he adjusted the bag over his shoulder.
‘Used to work in an office.
Now he delivers papers or parcels.
Still uses pens, cheap ones…
explains the ink stains.
Probably carries documents, not food.
Got fired or downsized.’
He turned slightly and looked at a woman near a cart.
She held a coffee in one hand and stared at her phone.
Her blazer didn’t fit.
Her shoes were clean but cheap.
Her hair was pinned back but strands kept falling loose.
She kept biting the edge of her lip.
‘Law student or paralegal.
No time in the morning.
Probably gets four hours of sleep.
On her way to a firm, one that she hates.’
He shifted and watched two boys sitting on a bench.
One tapped his foot while the other kept glancing at his bag.
Both wore shoes with matching scuffs.
Their laughter was loud, but they didn’t look at each other when they laughed.
Ethan kept watching.
‘Foster kids.
Same group home.
One’s hiding something in that bag.
Probably stole it.
Most likely from the other kid.’
He stepped forward and scanned the edge of the alley near the corner.
A man stood there with one hand in his pocket.
His hoodie looked clean.
His shoes looked new and a little expensive compared to the rest of his clothing.
His beard was untrimmed.
One of his shoelaces was tucked inside.
Ethan watched him adjust his stance and lean back but still look around without making eye contact.
‘Not homeless.
Too clean.
Not nervous.
Doesn’t want attention but knows he needs to be seen by someone.’
He moved a little closer.
The man shifted but didn’t notice him.
Ethan saw the left sleeve stretched out at the wrist.
‘Pulls it back often.
Could be reaching into it.’ He watched the inside of the hoodie shift when the man turned.
‘There’s weight in the pocket.
Not heavy enough to be a weapon.
Shape’s too square.
Probably a powder bag.
Maybe two.’
A man walked by.
The one in the hoodie gave him a small nod.
They clasped hands and the one in the hoodie pulled him in for a hug.
While this could be seen as an innocent gesture by most people, Ethan knew better.
He saw the exchange of money and drugs as they shook hands.
A bonafide drug dealer.
From the looks of it he was dealing Heroin or Coke; Ethan wasn’t sure as he only caught a glimpse of the bag.
He’d find out soon enough.
Ethan waited until the dealer pushed off the wall and started moving; likely going to meet his next client.
Unfortunately for him he wouldn’t ever make that trip, at least not with the product he planed to sell.
Ethan followed closely, but still kept a good distance.
While most people wouldn’t think to look behind them unless it was late at night or they were going through a dangerous area; drug dealers—at least the good ones—had eyes in the backs of their head.
They needed to.
Cops, rival gangs, violent customers.
There was no end to the number of people who either wanted to see them fail or wanted what they had for themselves.
Despite the dealer feeling like someone was following him, Ethan was able to move out of sight or blend in with the crowd each time he looked behind him.
‘While he may have good spatial awareness he’s just as predictable as everyone else…” Ethan thought to himself, as he watched the muscles shift in the dealers back and then their neck; by the time he started to turn Ethan was already at a news stand looking for a paper—while doing his best to hide his facial features.
The dealer looked back a final time before turning and slipping into an alleyway.
Just the opportunity that Ethan was waiting for, he put the news paper down—igniting the owner who was yelling at him to buy it—and followed the dealer into the alleyway.
He knew the dealer was waiting for him in ambush, he could smell the cheap cologne mixed with the strong scent of weed; the sun was also behind him casting his shadow out of the alleyway.
With nothing else to do Ethan sprung the dealers trap.
The moment he stepped into the alleyway he was grabbed by the dealer who was a little more muscular than Ethan first assumed.
He snarled fiercely at Ethan flashing a mouthful of yellow and brown teeth—quite a few missing as well.
“What are you following me for boy!” He spat out, the slobber landing on Ethan’s face though the teen didn’t flinch.
Ethan’s silence seemed to upset the Dealer and he dragged him further into the alleyway before shoving him against a dumpster.
“You must have some nerve fucking with me, do you know who I am?” The dealer shouted slapping his face.
The short impact of the slap confirmed that the dealer was in fact a heroin dealer.
Ethan had smelled it enough in his own apartment to recognise it.
‘Perfect…” Ethan thought.
Cocaine would just rile them up until they crashed, this would knock them out.
Ethan raised his hand and pointed behind the dealer, he didn’t say anything—he didn’t have to.
Most people are curious enough that they’ll be compelled to look behind them.
“What!?” The dealer said as he followed his finger and turned around.
The moment he did, Ethan grabbed his face and forced his head back, while putting a leg behind him and throwing him to the ground; he ducked quickly and slammed his fist straight into his nose several times before the man went limp.
Ethan then dragged the man behind the dumpster and then started going through his pockets; he found the drugs easy enough, he also found a pocket knife, but no gun.
‘Strange…’ he thought to himself.
Most dealers in Gotham were strapped.
You had to be if lived in a place where psycho clowns burned down hospitals on the regular.
There was a little over $3,000 in cash as well, which Ethan gladly took.
“Thanks,” he said drearily before heaving the dealer into the open dumpster.
“Your $3,000 will go along way in alleviating my boredom,” he said as he dropped the man into a pile of garbage before closing the lid.
He dusted his hands off together and started to walk away.
*bzzzz*
Another message, likely his Mom again though he was surprised she could type; usually the shakes were one of the first withdrawal symptoms.
He took his phone out only to be surprised when it wasn’t his Mom or father who had messaged him but someone unexpected.
Barbara: Hey Ethan this is Barbara Gordon…
I just wanted to thank you for coming today, I had a lot of fun with you.
How did she get his number?
He didn’t give it out to anyone, the only people who had it were his parents and he did that reluctantly.
He thought about it for a few more moments before he came to the right conclusion; he listed his own number down at Gotham academy for emergencies the only way she’d have gotten his number would be looking through his file in the records room.
As he thought about all of this his phone buzzed again, another message from Barbara appearing on the screen.
Barbara: Sorry if it seems a little creepy, me messaging you out of the blue, I looked up your number on your phone when you were fixing the fuel line on your boots.
‘Possible…’ Ethan thought.
He had taken off his blazer and had it on the back of a chair.
His phone also had no password—why would it, he had nothing on there.
What he did find interesting though is she managed to slip his phone from his jacket and take it out without him noticing.
Rich girl like her maybe she was a kleptomaniac…
no that didn’t make sense, she didn’t seem the type, especially with all that expensive equipment she regularly worked with.
She was something else, but what?
That was the question.
A smile formed on his face that was interesting.
However his thought process was disrupted when the sound of the dumpster lid opened and the dealer tumbled out.
Ethan put his phone away.
“Full cognitive recovery in less than a minute, you could’ve been an astronaut.”
The dealer breathed heavily as spit fell from his mouth and onto his chin.
“I’m going to fucking kill you…” he spat out venomously as he pushed himself up against the dumpster.
Ethan rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.
He wouldn’t run, that would just cause more problems down the line.
He didn’t want a male stalker waiting for him every time he took a shit.
The best thing to do right now would be to beat him within an inch of his life and make sure he knows what will happen the next time they cross paths.
Ethan scanned the man before him, slight deformities in the man’s hands showed he’d broken them before and they’d never healed correctly; scabs also indicated that he’d been in a fight recently.
He favoured his right leg; possible injury to the left or past trauma.
Best solution is to kick his right knee cap the moment he gets in range, dislocate it and then once he’s on the ground target his weakened hands and break them.
Shards from his deformed bones will erupt through his hands; follow through with an uppercut to his jaw to stifle his scream.
End it with a knee to his diaphragm.
“You have no clue who you’ve just fucked with kid…” the dealer said as he straightened up and started walking towards Ethan with his fists clenched.
One
Two
Three
*CRACK*
Ethan’s foot shot out the moment the dealer stepped in range; the knee cap—weaker than Ethan expected—popped out and the man swore in pain as he leaned forward, straight into Ethan’s other foot which connected with his chest and sent him flat on his back.
“You’re fucking dead!
You’re fucking— AGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
Ethan slammed his foot down on the man’s hand shattering the bones inside.
‘Shit…’ he wasn’t fast enough to hit him with an uppercut.
‘Ah well,’ he thought as he went to end it.
However something changed.
Ethan wasn’t sure what it was, but the man beneath him started sweating, a lot more than a person in his situation normally would, his pupils also dilated.
“AHHHH!!!” He screamed lifting his shattered hand up, and Ethan with him.
Ethan was flung across the alleyway and straight into the wall like a ragdoll, the wind was knocked out of him and he sprained his wrist the moment he hit the ground.
His mind was racing a million miles per second, trying to think of an answer to what the fuck just happened.
He didn’t have much time to think however as the dumpster he had originally disposed of the dealer in came wheeling towards him.
Ethan’s eyes opened wide and he quickly rolled out of the way and up to his feet.
“I told you kid, you have no idea who you’re fucking with, now give me my shit back and maybe I let you leave with just a few broken bones,” he growled.
A lie
It wasn’t hard to tell he was lying, there was no situation where a criminal with a shattered hand would simply let the person who hurt them go.
‘I guess I have no choice…’ Ethan turned on his heels and started running in the opposite direction.
It was clear this dealer wasn’t normal, and while he had a good deal of experience in fighting; he couldn’t throw a dumpster like it was a toy car.
“HEY!”
He heard the man shout behind him, but he kept on running.
He nearly made it to the end of the alley and out onto the street when he felt the man grab his collar.
‘How did he outrun me?’ He thought as he was yanked and throw back deeper into the alleyway.
He tumbled and skidded across the alley before hitting the dumpster.
‘Enhanced strength, equates to a limited form of super speed.’ He felt stupid for not thinking of it before.
Ethan looked up and saw the dealer, he was sweating even more, his chest was rising erratically and the man was nearly panting.
“I’m going to show you what happens when you fuck with the Iron Row,” he said before lifting Ethan up and slamming him against the wall.
Ethan punched the dealer multiple times in the face, while elbowing the joint in his arms to try and free himself.
The man looked unfazed by it and instead smiled before drawing one of his arms back and punching him so hard that Ethan immediately threw up the contents of his stomach—mixed with a little blood.
“Awww did that hurt!?” The man asked mockingly before he threw him across the alleyway into the other wall.
“Well there is plenty more where that came from!” He spat as he walked towards him again.
Ethan stood up with a little difficulty, but did so and managed to avoid the next punch, which hit the wall and shattered the break behind it.
At least that explained where the broken bones in his hand came from.
Ethan slammed his fist into his liver and then delivered a rapid combo that ended with a hook to his face.
“Is that all you got!?” The man sneered.
Ethan stepped back and avoided several wild swings, it was easy to tell the man wasn’t trained at all; most people wouldn’t bother when they had strength like that.
Ethan stepped forward and kicked him in the stomach, when he leaned forward he grabbed the sides of his head and kneed him, his nose crunched beneath his knee, but unlike before the man didn’t yell in pain, in fact he didn’t make any noise.
Ethan cursed as the man’s grip tightened around his leg.
Before he could react, he was yanked off the ground and thrown high into the air.
He twisted his body mid-air, trying to control his fall, but the alley walls spun too fast.
His eyes locked on a fire escape ladder above.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out the folding knife, and threw it.
The blade struck the latch.
The ladder dropped.
He grabbed it as it came down and used it to slow himself.
His arm wrenched in the socket, but he stopped the fall.
He dropped to the ground and staggered.
His lungs burned.
Sweat dripped into his eyes.
He took a few steps forward, trying to catch his breath, but the man was already on him again.
Ethan tried to think, but pain dulled his focus.
The man grabbed for him.
Ethan struck him in the ribs, then jabbed upward into his jaw, but the dealer barely reacted.
A heavy fist slammed into Ethan’s side.
He felt his ribs crack and the air flew out of his lungs again as he crashed against the dumpster.
He pushed himself up.
His body ached, but he forced himself to move.
The man was laughing now.
“You’re weak boy, now watch as I kill uou and leave your body for the rats!” Ethan deflected the next punch and countered with one to the throat.
He followed with a kick to the stomach.
When the man bent forward, he drove his knee into his nose again and again.
He felt the cartilage give way, but the man didn’t even scream.
He just smiled with blood leaking from his face.
Before Ethan could react, the man caught his leg again.
Ethan jumped up and elbowed the man’s spine multiple times, trying to free himself but it was useless, the strength in the man’s arm was too much.
He was thrown again.
His back hit the ground and pain shot through him.
He lay there staring at the sky.
His head was spinning.
His thoughts blurred together.
“Is this really how my life ends?” He thought to himself.
He thought about everything he had done with his life.
He was smarter than anyone he had ever met.
His body was stronger than most adults.
Yet what had he done with his life, he was capable of anything and yet here he was still going to die in an alleyway beaten to death by a halfwit drug dealer.
He had wasted everything.
This was his end.
How boring…
He laughed a little.
That part actually amused him.
A boring death.
Just like his boring life.
*Ba-dum*
*Ba-dum*
Something shifted.
It was deep inside him.
It didn’t make sense.
It wasn’t physical.
It was something else.
He felt it stirring.
His eyes went to the man again.
Something about him drew Ethan’s attention.
He didn’t know why.
But he grabbed the dealers arm.
There was something in him something that Ethan felt drawn too, something he wanted—though he didn’t know why.
When he reached the source it resisted, but Ethan pulled.
He pulled harder.
He wasn’t sure what he was doing.
He just knew he had to keep going.
Then it happened.
The man screamed and stumbled back.
He clutched his chest and stared at Ethan like he was seeing a ghost.
“What the fuck did you just do?” he yelled.
Ethan straightened.
His body still ached, but something had changed.
There was something inside him now.
He couldn’t describe it, but he could feel it.
His heart pounded.
He felt his pulse in every limb; deeper inside he could feel something pulse.
“What the fuck did you do?” the man screamed again and threw a punch at him.
It landed against Ethan’s jaw, but it didn’t hurt.
It barely made him move.
Ethan blinked.
The man stepped back.
He looked at his hand.
“No.
No no no no,” he said.
He started hitting his chest.
“Come back.
Come on.
Come back.”
Ethan wasn’t listening.
He was focused on the sensation that ran through him now, one that was becoming more familiar by the second.
Focusing more on the new sensation inside him he gained a rush of understanding; in a single moment he had understood what he had just done, what he had just taken.
This man had an ability and Ethan had just stolen it.
That wasnt the only thing either; when Ethan focused on the ability he was able to almost intuitively understand what it was.
He had assumed the man had enhanced strength when he’d first witnessed the man use it.
He was wrong.
He activated it.
His heart rate shot up.
His vision narrowed.
His hands trembled and he clenched them.
His body began to perspire more than normal.
Every muscle tightened.
His pupils dilated.
Blood rushed faster through his veins..
It was an advanced form of hyperarenalism—adrenaline production pushed far past normal limits.
But it wasn’t just raw output.
It was controlled.
This man’s ability allowed him to produce and process extreme levels of adrenaline.
Where a normal person would burn out or die from the strain, his ability adapted his body and maintained the high for longer periods.
If Ethan had to measure it, he’d estimate the man’s strength had tripled under the effect.
Speed.
Reflexes.
Recovery, strength.
All elevated by the same mechanism.
A very powerful fight or flight reflex that could be turned on and off like a switch.
Now it was his.
He smiled.
The dealer panicked.
“No!
What did you do?!
Give it back!”
Ethan walked forward and grabbed the man by the throat.
He lifted him with one arm, something tha felt like picking up a toy.
The man kicked and punched him.
Ethan didn’t feel it, his pain threshold had likely been elevated to a massive degree while in this state.
He stepped forward and threw him into the wall.
There was a crack.
A wet crunch followed.
The back of the man’s skull split open as it struck the bricks, splattering his brain matter against the wall.
His body went limp immediately.
Blood poured from the wound and spread quickly across the alley floor, soaking into his shirt and pooling beneath him in a dark uneven patch.
His eyes remained open, staring blankly at nothing.
His jaw twitched once, then stopped.
There was no breath left in him.
‘I made a miscalculation…’
Ethan stood there in silence.
He didn’t feel anything.
He just looked at the body.
His eyes scanned it for movement out of habit, but there was none.
His original calculations took into consideration the dealers body; Ethan’s was distinctively different than the man before him.
He was extremely healthy and had quite a bit of muscle, his body no doubt would work at a higher level while under the influence of the ability.
He was likely 4-5x stronger than he was normally.
‘No wonder his head split open…’
When considering what he should do next he ran through a list.
No witnesses.
No security cameras.
No sounds of nearby pedestrians.
No ID on the man.
No phone.
No sign he had friends nearby.
That was something he checked earlier.
Still, a corpse was always a problem.
The longer it stayed in the open, the higher the risk.
Someone could wander into the alley.
Cops might respond to a smell or a tip.
If the body was found intact, it could lead back to him.
That couldn’t happen.
Not now.
Not after this discovery.
He bent down and grabbed the man’s arm.
It was heavier now.
Dead weight always was—he had enough experience with that with his parents.
He dragged the body to the dumpster, hoisted it over the edge and dropped it in.
It landed with a dull thud against the other trash bags inside.
Blood smeared the edge of the dumpster and soaked into the cardboard under the lid.
Ethan wiped it off with the sleeve of the man’s hoodie.
He reached into his pocket and took out a lighter, grabbing some of the cardboard and a half drunken bottle of spirits he lit it up and dropped it back down, and watched as the flames caught.
He didn’t stay to watch it burn.
He closed the lid—not entirely—and stepped back, listening to the fire crackle inside.
The smoke rose fast.
He could smell it already.
Plastic, skin, hair, something chemical too—maybe whatever he’d used to cut the heroin.
It didn’t matter.
The body would be unrecognisable by morning.
Even if someone opened the dumpster, there wouldn’t be much left.
Fire simplified things.
Ethan turned and walked out of the alley.
His heart was still racing, but it didn’t feel like panic.
His blood felt thinner, lighter.
Every breath hit deeper in his lungs.
The sound of car horns from the next block rang sharper.
The cold in the wind felt cleaner against his face.
Everything felt amazing, it felt like his whole life he was deaf and blind and now he was just starting to experience it.
M
He reached the end of the block and looked down the street.
There was nothing special about it.
Same cracked sidewalk.
Same neon signs.
Same broken gutters and rusted vents.
But it looked new to him.
Like he was seeing it in high resolution for the first time.
He looked around, at the people around him.
Noticing everything they do, and doe the first time he didn’t feel bored.
What was happening to him?
Everything in his life until now felt dull, he hadn’t even felt like a person; like he wasn’t the same species as everyone around him.
But now he could feel it, for the first time in his life he felt excited about something.
For so long everything was so predictable and boring.
Nothing surprised him, nothing interested him; the rare times something did were brief moments that he treasured, but they weren’t enough to break the monotony of life.
Now however, he had no clue what was coming next.
He had just set sail, the course?
He had no clue.
He smiled.
The kind of smile that didn’t fade.
He didn’t know what he’d just become.
But he liked it.
(AN: So this is my new story.
I realised that a lot of my stories have heroes In them or are heroes.
I’m trying to expand my horizons and while I don’t plan for this guy to become a villain he’s not going to be a hero.
Wait so like Mark I guess…
shit.
Well I don’t like villain MCs tbh they remind me too much of bullied Manwha protagonists.
Anyway Ethan Kane has All for One, but it won’t work how you think, to balance it I’m basically just changing it to a Meta power, so Ethan can only steal and give meta gene powers as they are the most similar to quirks.
So I’m afraid he can’t just go and steal Superman’s or flashes power.
Only people with the Metagene.
But yeah his first power might be familiar to anyone who watched the TV show Alphas.
Hyperadrenal; my boy Bill is a menace.
Anyway hope you enjoyed the chapter.)
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