The rain struck the broken concrete of Gotham like scattered needles, cold and unrelenting. Underneath a flickering streetlamp, Draven adjusted the strap on his shoulder holster, eyes locked onto the looming warehouse at the edge of Dockside Sector 9.
This wasn't a rescue mission.
This was a message.
"The Fracture's been moving underground," Evelyn whispered beside him, her hand lightly brushing against his for a fleeting second of reassurance. "Six facilities torched. Four bodies with their insignia carved into their backs. They're escalating."
Draven's jaw tightened. He remembered the symbol scorched onto the skin — a broken triangle inside a circle. The mark of The Fracture.
"They want Gotham to know they're done hiding," he muttered. "Then it's time they see the light again."
Evelyn's eyes lingered on him. In moments like this, beneath the hardened exterior and the mask of justice, she saw the fracture in him — a man still trying to hold the weight of a dying city. She reached out, fingers briefly touching the side of his cheek. "Just… come back."
Draven gave a single nod. "Always."
The warehouse creaked as they entered through the back, the door rusted but unlocked. That alone was suspicious. Evelyn moved beside him, gun drawn, light-footed, every step calculated. The inside was layered in dust, crates scattered like forgotten memories. But the deeper they went, the clearer the signs became — no rats, no dust trails, a faint hum of electricity. Someone had been here recently.
Then came the sound.
A slow, deliberate clap.
Out of the shadows stepped a tall, wiry man clad in a tattered grey trench coat. Half his face was hidden beneath a sculpted metal mask. Behind him, five figures stood in silence — masked, armed, waiting.
"Draven Vance," the masked man said with a voice smooth as poison. "Or should I say... Gotham's unburnt knight."
Draven didn't flinch. "You must be Hollow."
The man bowed mockingly. "One of the many heads of The Fracture. But tonight… just your executioner."
Evelyn stepped forward, gun aimed. "You know what happens to people who make threats like that?"
Hollow tilted his head. "They usually get away with them."
Then all hell broke loose.
Gunfire erupted. Draven dove behind a crate, pulling Evelyn with him. Bullets shredded wood and tore through metal. He rolled out, took down one attacker with a precise shot to the knee, then another with a brutal right hook that sent him crashing into the wall.
But Hollow… Hollow didn't move.
He watched. Observed. Calculated.
Draven noticed.
As Evelyn disarmed a third opponent and kicked a weapon toward him, Draven grabbed it and launched himself toward Hollow. The man deflected the first blow with his metallic forearm, twisted, and slammed Draven into a steel beam. The pain burst through Draven's ribs like a firecracker, but he didn't stop. He retaliated, jabbing Hollow in the throat and elbowing him in the gut.
"You fight like you've lost something," Hollow rasped, stumbling back. "I can work with that."
Before Draven could respond, the remaining attackers detonated a flashbang. The explosion of light and sound disoriented him, and when his vision cleared, Hollow and the rest were gone.
Only their symbol remained, painted in blood on the wall: "WE ARE THE BREAK."
Back in the safehouse, Evelyn stitched a gash on Draven's arm. The atmosphere was tense, the silence between them not born of anger but of fear — fear of what was coming.
"They were just scouts," Evelyn murmured. "You saw how calm Hollow was. He wasn't trying to kill you. He was watching. Measuring."
"They're planning something bigger," Draven said. "Tonight was a test."
Evelyn looked up, eyes burning with a storm of worry and affection. "Draven… you're taking on too much. The city, the underground, the lies, the weight of this mask. When was the last time you let someone in?"
"I let you in," he said softly.
And in that moment, everything paused.
The storm outside faded. The hum of monitors disappeared. All that existed was her eyes and the space between them.
She leaned in slowly, brushing her lips against his.
A kiss — tender, filled with unsaid truths, broken promises, and a desire to hold onto something real amidst the chaos.
But reality snapped back too fast.
A notification blinked on the monitor. Evelyn pulled away, face pale.
Draven turned to the screen.
A surveillance feed from an abandoned subway station… filled with crates of explosives and a blueprint of Gotham's underground water system.
Evelyn's voice trembled. "They're planning to drown the city."
Draven stood, muscles tight, voice low. "Then we stop them before they flood it in blood."
Elsewhere…
In a darkened room somewhere far beneath Gotham, Hollow knelt before a large screen. Static filled it… until the Joker's laugh crackled through.
"Well done," the voice hissed. "You showed them just enough. But don't forget, Hollow — pawns are the most dangerous pieces when they reach the other side of the board."
Hollow bowed his head. "Yes… my king."