I pulled some gear out of a prepack duffle bag that I kept in the warehouse and proceeded to change my clothes. The gear was tight, snug, and coated the dark paint meant to absorb light.
Combat boots laced tight around my calves. Cargo pants with double-lined pockets and reinforced knees. A tactical long-sleeve shirt layered under a light ballistic vest. Leather gloves fitted snug on my fingers, tactile enough to still feel what I needed. Extra protection if my TTK field doesn't pick up a surprise attack.
Conner and Miss Martian always told me to "Get to the point where I have my field up even when I'm sleep." Saying once my Viltrumite powers awaken it would be redundant. They still insisted which I agreed knowing their are some strong hitter out their and it would take me god knows how long to get to superman levels of durability.
But I never got to that point and lord knows what type of situation I would have to be in to achieve that. I am durable enough to survive bullets and majority of mid level of attacks and I'm basically Immune to all diseases and viruses and Radiation. Minus the "Scourge Virus". The thought of that kind of scared me but I have to focus back on getting ready and tonight's mission.
I pulled the face mask over my head, covering everything but my eyes. No emblems. No insignias. Just shadow. I felt like a ninja. And tonight, I needed to be one.
I double-checked the flash drive one more time in the dim glow of the warehouse's overhead lamp. Matte black casing, custom ports, and deep-layered firmware. I wasn't taking chances.
The screen on my burner laptop displayed the last-minute overview: Tower security schematics, server access routes, known patrol timings, and most importantly the supercomputer's terminal location. The Bell Tower was old, barely updated, but that meant its security systems were sometimes more analog than digital. It had advantages. And gaps.
I whispered to myself, "Let's hope this works."
I had spent months saving for this moment. Taking out cash in small increments so my knowing batman was keeping an eye on everything so any big movements would look suspicious. I did everything from more construction shifts, even private tutoring gigs through the university. Anything I could do to stack untraceable cash. Most of it went into getting some of the best dark web hackware I could find.
Programs written in old world code. Ghost encryption layers. A jailbreaking tool built like a key for outdated but still powerful League-tier systems.
I didn't know if the Bell Tower's internal computer was as advanced as the Batcomputer. Probably not. But it should be close enough. At least good enough to store classified information they didn't want on the Watchtower's grid.
That was the plan.
Copy everything onto the drive. Drop a low-frequency Trojan embedded in the executable. Get out. No traces. And if I was lucky? Maybe I'd even hack the Zeta tube terminal, access coordinates for the Watchtower satellite and transport systems.
But that was asking a lot.
I couldn't help but mutter, "Or I just paid a hundred grand for some meme-coded garbage program, and I get traced in two seconds, with Batman and the rest of the Batfamily all breaking my ribs by dawn."
I shook the thought. Time to focus.
I zipped my vest pocket closed, securing the drives. With one last glance at the board—red circles around key Tower points and a timestamp clock I shut everything off. Then I stepped out into the Gotham night.
Flying above the city is always quieter than people expect. The wind in your ears dulls everything. It's almost peaceful—if you ignore the part where you're invading one of the League's old satellite points.
The Bell Tower came into view. A once-abandoned Gotham Clock Tower, now retrofitted as a headquarter directly in Gotham. Meant to help the Batfamily to be ready and closer by incase a a high level emergency occurs. It old Gothic architecture. I knew exactly which cameras were operational. I had cross-referenced their maintenance logs and caught their blind spots.
I slowed my descent and angled my flight behind the east-facing column, where I knew a power vent masked thermal readings. My boots barely made a sound as I landed on the ledge.
I exhaled slowly. "Okay, here we go."
Sliding around the edge of the tower, I crept toward the lower side entrance. An old maintenance shaft. Covered in vines. Overlooked. It took less than a minute to peel the rusted grate back. I slipped in without a sound.
The narrow shaft led down to a crawlspace above the auxiliary floor. From there, I could drop into the old monitoring chamber. I waited. Listened.
Silence.
Then I dropped.
My boots touched down on the metal floor without a thud. I moved fast—low and quick, eyes scanning the corners. The console was there, a three-screen terminal with a folding keyboard. Still running. Dim, but alive.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears. This was it. I pulled out the flash drive. Slotted it in.
The screen blinked.
[Jailbreak Key Recognized. Execute Override Protocol?]
I hovered over the yes icon.
My gloved finger trembled slightly.
I pressed it.
A loading bar appeared.
Injecting Trojan / Decoding Primary Firewall...
I clenched my fists.
Now I waited.
And prayed it worked.
The screen lit up with green. Breach successful. Installing Protocol... 10 minutes required.
Ten minutes.
I sighed. "Fantastic."
I plugged in the second drive, this one meant to pull copies of the files stored in the Bell Tower's archives. Another ten-minute timer appeared.
Ten minutes. Ten long, agonizing minutes.
I paced lightly. The Bell Tower had that familiar look—the same feel I remembered from the games I grew up on. Dark, grim, old brick and vaulted woodwork. But with modern upgrades: embedded power relays, reinforced gear lockers, polished equipment mounts, and a functioning Zeta tube humming quietly to the right of the supercomputer station.
It felt nostalgic. It also made me anxious. Being here… like this… was risky. Anyone from the Bat family could drop in at a moment's notice. Hell, they specialized in silent takedowns. Just thinking about it made my shoulder twitch.
Last thing I wanted was to get hit like a Arkham video game villain. It was like a right of passage for Batfamily members to be able to do silent takedowns and sneak away without being noticed. I really don't want to be on the wrong side of that.
I glanced at the timer.
0:01:53. "Just a little more."
The computer beeped Trojan program Install Complete and I carefully removed it from the port, tucking it into my belt. One step done. Now just the—
"Recognizing: Miss Martian. Member B-05." My blood ran cold. I spun toward the Zeta tube. Its lights began to pulse as the connection activated. "No. No no no—" I hissed.
I looked at the download bar. 0:03:09 Remaining. "Dammit."
I yanked the drive, praying the files already copied were enough.
I turned to leave—
And pain exploded in the back of my head. I staggered forward, crashing into the console. Stars filled my vision. My knees buckled. I rolled onto my back, groaning, and looked up—
Red hair. Yellow gloves. A sharp glare and a bat-shaped emblem it was, "Batgirl."
Oh shit.