The apartment in Star City had served its purpose. Jacob—still going by that name but cloaked in the safety of a fabricated identity—had achieved more than most could dream of. At just 21, he held a PhD in multidisciplinary sciences. Physics. Engineering. Biotech. Artificial Intelligence. His small tech firm had grown under the radar, managing to secure low-key military contracts and research grants by posing as a think tank.
But even Jacob, with all his intellect, knew that knowledge alone would not be enough. The world he was preparing to confront—Gotham, Batman, the system—was not governed only by minds. It was governed by force, power, fear.
That meant one thing: it was time to master the body.
He needed a master. One who had conquered war. One who trained mercenaries and killed gods.
Slade Wilson. Deadstroke.
The cost of a meeting? Ten million dollars. The price of training? Another ten. But Jacob wasn't just buying lessons—he was investing in becoming the nightmare of a city.
---
First Contact: A War of Wits
The meeting took place in a covert facility on a remote island—one Deadstroke used for testing new recruits. Most were dead within days.
Slade Wilson was not impressed at first.
"A boy with a fortune and a dream," he scoffed. "I don't train dreamers."
Jacob didn't flinch. "I'm not here to dream. I'm here to dominate."
Slade leaned back, his single eye narrowing. "Domination takes discipline. You're used to being the smartest man in the room. I don't care about that. Out here, the air doesn't care how brilliant you are—it only cares how fast you bleed."
"You think I'm just another rich kid."
"I know you are. But let's see if you can survive Day One."
---
The First Month: Breaking the Mind
Jacob was dropped into Deadstroke's jungle maze. No food. No water. Just a knife. No instructions. Three mercs were told to hunt him.
By the third night, one of them was dead. The second begged Slade to pull him out.
Jacob didn't just survive. He set traps, weaponized local herbs, and left coded messages for Deadstroke to read.
Slade was intrigued. "Smart. But that brain will betray you. Let's see if the body can keep up."
---
The Second Month: Breaking the Body
Combat training began at dawn. Every muscle Jacob didn't know he had was ripped, stretched, punished.
He was outmatched. Every day.
Broken ribs. Torn ligaments. Bloodied knuckles. Dislocated shoulders.
But Jacob refused to quit. He learned how to fight not like a soldier, but like a predator—brutal, efficient, elegant in violence.
Slade noticed the transformation. "You learn like a computer. You adapt like a killer."
Still, he tested him more. Simulated kidnappings. Psychological warfare. Torture scenarios.
Jacob never broke.
---
The Third Month: Philosophy of the Blade
This was when the real lessons began.
Slade sat with Jacob at night, dissecting strategy. Tactics. War philosophy. The psychology of fear.
"You're not a warrior yet," he said one night. "You're a weapon in search of a cause. You need a code."
"I already have one," Jacob replied.
"No killing unless necessary. No innocents. You want to be a god, but you still care about people. That'll get you killed."
"It's not sentiment," Jacob answered. "It's control."
Slade raised a brow.
"Interesting," he said. "You're trying to be more than me. I could turn you into something monstrous. But you want to be the monster and the mind."
Slade mulled over the idea.
He whispered to himself that night, "This one... this one could be the heir I never had."
But then he saw it—Jacob's restraint.
That was the flaw.
"You won't kill unless you have to," Slade told him. "That'll be a problem."
"Not a flaw," Jacob said. "A feature. I kill the system. Not the innocent."
Slade chuckled. "Your code will either save you… or be your coffin."
---
The Exit Test
At the end of three months, Deadstroke designed a final challenge: a simulated assassination inside a high-security fortress run by one of Slade's criminal allies.
Jacob had 48 hours. He completed it in 12. Without killing anyone.
He exposed security flaws. Turned one guard to his side. Used psychological profiles to disorient others. He didn't break in—he was invited in. And walked out untouched.
Slade stood at the gates.
"You've earned my respect," he said. "You've bought more than training. You've bought legacy."
Jacob bowed slightly. "Keep the extra ten million. You'll hear about me again."
"I know," Deadstroke replied. "And when I do, I'll either be proud… or worried."
As Jacob boarded his private jet, he opened his encrypted device. Star City was behind him now. His next training… would be bloodier.
And the world's deadliest minds were beginning to whisper his name:
The Question.