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Chapter Text

The Batcave was a place of quiet efficiency—at least, it usually was. The soft hum of the Batcomputer and the occasional metallic clatter of weapons being set down were familiar, grounding. But tonight, the air crackled with tension, thick and suffocating.

Felix ripped off his domino and threw it onto the table, his chest still heaving from the fight. His hands were shaking—not from exhaustion, but from anger.

The moment Chan got out of the Batmobile, eyes dark with fury, Felix knew it was coming.

“What the hell was that, Felix?”Chan’s voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the cavernous space like a blade.

Felix scoffed, rolling his shoulders like he could physically shake off the confrontation. “Oh, here we go,” he muttered under his breath.

Chan advanced on him, jaw clenched, voice rising. “Don’t ‘here we go’ me! You broke that guy’s arm, and you didn’t have to!”

Felix’s head snapped up, eyes blazing. “He had a knife to Hyunjin’s throat!”

“And you disarmed him! He was down! But you-–” Chan’s voice wavered with frustration, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You grabbed his arm and snapped it after he was already beaten! That’s not how we do things, Felix!”

Felix’s mouth twisted into something bitter, disbelieving. “Are you seriously saying I should’ve let him get back up and try again?”

“That’s not what I’m saying-–”

“You weren’t there! You didn’t feel what I felt—he was laughing, Chan! Laughing like he thought this was some kind of game, like he was untouchable. So yeah, I made sure he wasn’t.” Felix’s voice shook with barely contained rage.

“You went too far,” Chan bit out. “We’re supposed to be better than them, Felix!”

Felix let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Better than them? You mean better than protecting our own?”

“We don’t torture people–”

“That wasn’t torture!” Felix shouted, taking a step closer, his body tense like a coiled spring. “It was justice.”

“No, Felix.” Chan’s voice was lower now, but colder. “It was vengence.”
Felix’s nostrils flared. “And what’s so wrong with that?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Changbin, standing off to the side with his arms crossed, shifted uncomfortably. “Alright, let’s all just—”

But Chan wasn’t done. He took another step forward, closing the distance between them. “Do you even hear yourself?” he asked, voice rough with something deeper–something almost like disappointment. “You’re angry, Felix. I get it. But anger makes you sloppy. It makes you dangerous.”

Felix exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “I controlled the situation. I did what had to be done.”

“You lost control,” Chan corrected.

“I protected us!” Felix fired back. “I did what you won’t.

"Enough!” Chan’s voice rang out like a gunshot.

Felix scoffed, his breath ragged.

A heavy silence hung between them.

Chan inhaled deeply, his next words quiet but firm. “You’re benched.”

Felix’s eyes widened. “What?”

“No patrols. No missions. You don’t set foot outside this cave in the suit.”

Felix stared at him like he’d been struck. His fingers curled into fists, his entire body trembling with unspent fury. “You can’t—”

“I can,” Chan cut him off. “And I just did.”

Felix’s breath came out in short, uneven bursts, his mind racing. He looked around at the others, searching for someone to back him up.

Changbin shifted uncomfortably but didn’t meet his gaze. Han had his lips pressed together, tense but silent. Seungmin, standing by the med bay, exhaled through his nose and ran a hand through his hair. Even Hyunjin wouldn’t look at him.

Felix’s stomach twisted.

They weren’t going to fight for him.

His eyes flicked back to Chan, and he let out a short, better laugh. “Fine. Whatever.” His voice was raw, barely above a whisper.

He turned on his heel and stormed toward the exit. “You all have fun playing the good guys,” he muttered as he disappeared into the tunnel leading back to the manor.

The cavernous space felt suddenly empty.

For a long moment, no one moved. The sound of Felix’s retreating footsteps echoed through the cave, then faded into nothing.

The silence stretched.

Then Hyunjin sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “I’ll go.”

The rest of them stood frozen, the weight of the argument pressing down on them like a heavy fog.

No one dared to speak.

-

The Batcave was quiet, the kind of silence that felt unnatural after the chaos of the night. Chan sat at the massive Batcomputer, fingers unmoving over the keyboard, the mission report still unfinished on the screen in front of him.

He should be focusing. Should be typing up the details of the operation, cataloging the mission, assessing the team’s performance.

But all he could think about was Felix.

The fight still echoed in his head—Felix’s fury, the defiance in his eyes, the way his voice had cracked when he’d spat you all have fun playing the good guys.

Chan sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face.

Felix had always been like this. Stubborn. Headstrong. Too willing to throw himself into the fire without thinking of the burn.

But what was how he found him, wasn’t it?

The memory hit him like a punch to the ribs.

Two Years Earlier

Chan had seen plenty of thieves in Gotham.

Desperation bred crime, and in a city like this, survivial meant bending or breaking the rules. Some were professionals—calculated, precise, unshakable. Others were opportunists, looking for quick cash or something to pawn.

But the kid stripping the tires off the Batmobile wasn’t either of those.

Chan watched from the shadows of the rooftop above, arms crossed over his chest as he observed. The boy—no older than sixteen, maybe seventeen—moved fast, but not cleanly. His hands were quick, practiced, but there was a franticness in the way he worked, an urgency that came from desperation rather than experience.

The hoodie he wore was at least two sizes too big, the sleeves frayed at the ends. His jeans were ripped—not the kind of ripped that was meant to be stylish, but worn from actual wear and tear.

He moved like he didn’t have time.

Chan’s eyes narrowed slightly as he caught the way the kid winced when he crouched, the slight favoring of his left side. Injured. And the way his collarbone stuck out just a little too much under the fabric of his hoodie—malnourished.

Chan let out a slow breath, then moved.

His landing was soft, calculated. The moment his boots hit the pavement, the kid stiffened but didn’t look up.

” You know,” Chan said, his voice low and even, “there are a lot of cars in Gotham you could be stripping.”

Felix’s head shot up, eyes going wide.

Then, in one swift motion, he grabbed the nearest thing within reach—a rusted tire iron—and swung.

Chan barely had time to block before the metal cracked against his gauntlet. He felt the impact rattle through his arm, the force behind it enough to tell him that the kid knew how to throw a punch.

Felix didn’t hesitate. The second his attack was blocked, he bolted.

Chan was faster.

He grabbed Felix’s wrist mid-dash, twisting just enough to stop him but not enough to hurt. Felix yelped, struggling violently in his grip, twisting, kicking.

“Let me go—”

“Stop.”

Felix still fought, eyes wild, breath coming out in short, frantic bursts. But Chan’s grip didn’t waver.

That’s when he felt it.

The boy’s wrist—thin, the bones too sharp under his fingers. The way his pulse jumped, fast and erratic, like a cornered animal.

Chan’s gaze flickered down. Beneath the ragged sleeve of his hoodie, he could see bruises. Some old, some newer, fading to ugly yellow.

Felix caught his stare and yanked his arm away violently, staggering back. “What?” His voice was sharp, defensive. “What are you looking at?”

Chan exhaled.

Then, after a pause—” Are you hungry?”

Felix blinked. “What?”

Chan gestured toward the diner across the street, the neon sign flickering. “You look like you could use a meal.”

Felix’s entire posture shifted. His body tensed, his hands clenched at his sides. His expression twisted into something equal parts suspicion and anger.

“Oh, great,” His voice dripped sarcasm. “A rich perv in a bat suit wants to take me out to dinner. Fantastic.”

Chan sighed. “That’s not—” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look. I’m offering food. That’s it.”

Felix narrowed his eyes, scanning him like he was searching for the lie.

Chan simply waited.

After a long moment, Felix scoffed. “Fine. But I’m bringing the tire iron.”

Chan smirked. “Fair.”

They ended up eating in the Batmobile.

Felix hadn’t even waited for the car to fully stop before ripping into the burger, devouring it like a man starving.

Because, as he admitted between mouthfuls, he was.

They didn’t talk much.

Felix was cautious, throwing sideways glances at him every few minutes like he was still expecting this to be some kind of elaborate trap. But he kept eating.

Chan didn’t push.

At some point, Felix had slumped back against the seat, arms crossed, head tilted slightly against the window.

Chan glanced over.

He was asleep.

Chan sighed.

Without another word, he turned the car toward the manor.

Present Day

Chan’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, the mission report still incomplete. He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head.

Felix had come so far since then. But there were nights, nights like tonight, where it felt like they were right back at square one.

Footsteps echoed down the stone steps.

Chan didn’t look up. “How is he?”

Hyunjin’s voice was softer than usual, but still blunt. “Calmer. Still pissed, though.”

Chan sighed, rubbing his temples. “Of course he is.”

Minho leaned against the counsel, arms crossed. “He should be pissed. That’s how he learns.”

Chan finally looked up, eyes tired. “I don’t want him to hate me.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t hate you. He’s just angry. He’s always been angry.”

Chan’s fingers drummed against the desk. “I keep thinking… maybe I was too harsh.”

Minho scoffed. “Stop that.”

Chan frowned. “Minho—”

“No, listen,” Minho straightened, his expression hard. “Felix needed to be reprimanded. He crossed a line. If you didn’t bench him, he’d just do it again. And next time? It could be worse.”

Chan clenched his jaw.

Minho’s voice softened, but only slightly. “You did the right thing. You always do the right thing.”

Chan exhaled slowly, nodding.

Hyunjin stretched, already walking towards the steps. “You can talk to him in the morning. After you’ve both had sleep and don’t want to punch each other.”

Chan let out a small chuckle. That obvious?”

Minho smirked. “Painfully.”

They turned to leave.

None of them noticed the shadow tucked just out of sight on the staircase.

Felix.

His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his jaw clenched.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. He’d just… needed to cool down. Needed air.

But he’d heard everything.

His finers curled into his sleeves, breath slow and controlled. He turned and slipped away before they could notice.

Before they could see the look in his eyes.

-

Felix stormed up the manor steps, heart still pounding from the argument. His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms as he walked through the grand halls. The place felt suffocating. He needed air.

Without stopping to grab anything, he slipped out the back, making his way to where his bike was stored. The cold night air hit his skin, but he barely felt it as he kicked the engine into gear. He sped off down the winding roads, Gotham’s skyline stretching in the distance, the city lights casting long shadows across the pavement.

He didn’t know where he was going at first—he just needed to go. But as his anger cooled and his mind started to clear, he found himself taking familiar turns, heading deeper into the Narrows, the part of Gotham he used to call home. It had been two years, but everything still looked the same. The crackled sidewalks, the flickering streetlights, the distant sound of sirens wailing in the night.

Felix pulled up to the run-down apartment building and killed the engine, staring up at the dimly lit windows. His old home. The place he had lived before his mother died and his father was sent to Blackgate. It should’ve felt foreign after all this time, but as he walked inside, climbing the creaky stairs to the third floor, it was like he had never left.

His old apartment was unlocked. No surprise. No one cared enough to keep it sealed. The door swung open with a slow groan, revealing a dust-covered living room. The furniture was still there, untouched, a thin layer of grime settling over everything. It smelled of old wood, mildew, and faintly of something burnt. The last remnants of a life that had fallen apart long before he’d been taken in by Chan.

Felix wandered further in, his boots scuffing against the floor. His mind reeled, going over the fight with Chan again and again. He didn’t get it. He didn’t understand what it was like to be powerless, to watch people like that walk free, knowing they’d do it again. He thought back to the way Chan had looked at him—like he was disappointed. Like Felix was a problem that needed to be fixed.

He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled sharply, pacing. His gaze fell on an old, half-collapsed box in the corner. It had been left behind a few weeks before Chan found him. Felix crouched down, brushing dust off the lid before prying it open. Inside were remnants of a past he barely recognized—old toys, school papers, things that once seemed important but now felt like relics of a different life.

The door creaked.

Felix shot up, muscles tensing as he spun around, hands already reaching for a weapon he didn’t have. But the second he saw who it was, the fight drained out of him.

An old woman stood in the doorway, leaning slightly on a cane, her face soft with recognition and surprise.

“Lixie?”

Felix’s lips parted in shock. “Mrs. Halloway?”

The elderly woman smiled warmly, stepping further inside. “Oh, my boy.. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Felix relaxed, letting out a breath. Mrs. Halloway had been his neighbor for as long as he could remember. When his mom was too strung out or his dad got too violent, she was the one who took care of him. She fed him, gave him a safe place to sleep when he needed it, tended to his bruises with a gentle touch.

He never got to say goodbye.

“I—I didn’t think you’d still be here,” Felix admitted, his voice softer now.

“Oh, you know me. Too stubborn to leave,” she chuckled. “But enough about that—look at you.” Her hand lifted, gently brushing against his cheek. “You look… healthy.” Her eyes were wet, as if she hadn’t expected to see him standing in front of her at all, let alone looking well-fed and strong.

Felix swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I’m.. I’m doing okay.”

Her eyes searched his, like she could see more than what he was saying. But she nodded, satisfied for now. “Good. That’s good.”

Then, after a moment, she reached into the cloth bag hanging from her arm. “I have something for you.”

Felix blinked in surprise as she pulled out a small, slightly dented shoebox and held it out. “What is this?”

Mrs. Halloway sighed. “When you left… I didn’t know if you’d ever come back. And I didn’t want anything important to get stolen, so I grabbed what I could. Kept it safe, just in case.”

Felix hesitated before taking it, feeling the weight of it in his hands. His chest tightened.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

She patted his hand with a wrinkled smile. “You don’t need to thank me, sweetheart. Just… take care of yourself, okay?”

Felix nodded, watching as she stepped back toward the door.

When she left, the apartment felt even quieter.

Felix sat down in the middle of the living room, placing the box in front of him. His hands trembled slightly as he pulled the lid off.

Inside were old family photos.

He reached for one, his breath catching as he stared down at the image of his mother—before. Before addiction hollowed her out. She looked happy, holding a much younger Felix in her arms, smiling in the sunlight. There were pictures of his dad, too, back when he was just a man—not a henchman, not a criminal, not the person who raised a hand to him more often than not.

Felix swallowed hard, pushing the photos aside.

His gaze landed on something else. A folded, water-damaged document.

Frowning, he pulled it out, unfolding it carefully. His brows furrowed when he realized what it was.

His birth certificate.

The paper was wrinkled, the ink slightly smudged in places, but he could still make out the information. His father’s name was there, clear and legible.

But his mother’s name—

Felix’s heart pounded.

It was nearly ruined from the water damage, but he could see the first letter.

S

That wasn’t right. His mother’s name was Catherine.

His breaths came faster, hands gripping the paper tighter. He squinted, looking closer, and just barely made out another letter.

H

A capital H.

Felix’s stomach twisted, something cold curling around his spine.

Catering didn’t start with an S. Catherine didn’t have an H in her last name.

This—this wasn’t right.

His hands trembled as he clutched the birth certificate, the document shaking slightly in his grip.

His entire life, he had believed he knew who his parents were. He had accepted the truth of it, the weight of it. But this—this changed everything.

Felix’s breath hitched as he shot to his feet, tucking the shoebox under his arm.

He had to get to the bottom of this.

-

The manor was quiet.

It was almost eerie how silent it was, but considering they had all stumbled back home in the early hours of the morning, it wasn’t surprising that everyone was still asleep. Normally, Chan would be the first one up, regardless of how late they got in. The man didn’t sleep—couldn’t sleep most nights. And after the way he and Felix had gone at it last night, Changbin had half-expected to find their leader still brooding down in the Batcave, typing away at mission reports or training until exhaustion forced him to stop.

Yet, as he passed the bedrooms, Chan’s door was still closed. That was a rare sight.

With a shrug, Changbin made his way to the kitchen, already anticipating his usual morning routine. He hadn’t even fully woken up yet, only barely registering what he was doing as he shuffled over to the coffee machine.

But when he saw the machine already brewed a fresh pot, he stopped.

His brow furrowed. Someone was up.

For a second, he thought maybe it was Minho. The guy had a weird habit of waking up early, raiding the fridge, and then going straight back to bed. But then he noticed something else: no dirty dishes, no half-empty cereal bowl abandoned on the counter.

That meant whoever was up wasn’t eating.

His stomach twisted.

Felix.

Changbin sighed, running a hand through his hair before heading toward the Batcave.

The cool, dimly lit cavern was just as silent as the rest of the manor, save for the quiet hum of the Batcomputer. As he descended the stairs, he paused at the sight in front of him.

Felix was curled up in one of the chairs, knees tucked to his chest, bathed in the soft glow of the massive monitor. His face was eerily blank, but his eyes were locked onto the screen with such intense focus that he didn’t even register Changbin’s presence.

Changbin stepped forward carefully, his boots making a soft thud against the stone floor. “Lix?”

Felix startled slightly but didn’t turn right away. Instead, his fingers clenched subtly around the arm of the chair.

As Changbin walked closer, his gaze flickered to the screen. A woman’s picture was displayed in front of Felix. Changbin recognized her immediately.

It was Felix’s mother.

His stomach twisted slightly, but he kept his tone light. ‘What are you doing up?”

Felix finally looked at him, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he reached for something on the table beside him, then handed it over.

Changbin frowned, taking the document and unfolding it. His confusion deepened as he scanned the paper.

A birth certificate. Felix’s.

His father’s name was there, just like it should be. But when Changbin’s eyes drifted to the mother’s name, his confusion only grew. The name was mostly ruined by water damage, but he could see the first letter—S. And just below it, a capital H.

But that didn’t make any sense.

“Felix… what is this?” he asked, looking up.

Felix exhaled shakily. ‘That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

Changbin sat down next to him, eyes flicking back to the screen. Felix was staring at the photo again, but his gaze looked distant, lost.

“I never knew,” Felix muttered, almost to himself. “All this time, I thought—I thought I knew who she was. Who I was.” His grip on the chair tightened slightly. “I mean, I remember her, I remember my mother. But if Catherine wasn’t my biological mom, then… who the hell was she?”

Changbin stayed quiet, letting Felix get his thoughts out.

After a moment, Felix let out a bitter chuckle. “I don’t know why I’m even surprised. Nothing in my life ever goes the way I think it does.”

Changbin glanced at him. “What are you doing?”

Felix nodded toward the screen, his giners tapping anxiously against his knee. “I ran a DNA test. Took my own blood and tested it against whats saved in the database.”

Chanbin raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you know how to do that?”

Felix let out a humorless laugh. “Doesn’t take a genius. Plus, Chan has access to damn near every available system in the world, the freak.”

Changbin chuckled. “Guess we have to stop making fun of him for being so overprepared.”

Felix cracked the tiniest of smirks but didn’t say anything.

A few minutes passed in silence. Felix bounced his knee slightly, his patience wearing thin. Changbin could tell he was anxious, but he didn’t push him to talk. He just sat there, waiting.

Then, finally, the screen beeped.

Felix tensed.

Changbin turned to look as the results popped up.

His stomach dropped.

No DNA match to Catherine Lee.

Felix didn’t move. His breathing had slowed, almost like he was holding it in. His fingers twitched against his knee, tightening before abruptly releasing.

“I…” Felix’s voice was barely above a whisper. “She’s not my mother.”

Changbin didn’t know what to say.

He just sat there, watching as Felix clenched the document in his hands, staring at the screen like it might change if he looked at it long enough.

But it wouldn’t.

Nothing would.

-

Han woke up to the faint sound of movement downstairs, the distant hum of voices echoing through the halls. It took him a second to fully wake up, his mind still sluggish from the late night, but as he sat up, stretching with a groan, the atmosphere in the house felt… off.

He ran a hand through his hair, pushing himself out of bed and making his way down the stairs. As he reached the bottom, footsteps thundered toward him, and before he could react, Felix stormed past him, heading straight for the upper levels.

Han barely had time to register the expression on his best friend’s face—eyes wild, chest heaving with ragged breaths—before Felix bounded up the stairs and slammed his door shut behind him.

Han blinked, still standing there, stunned. “Uh… what the hell?”

“Don’t go after him,” Changbin’s voice came from the direction of the Batcave entrance.

Han turned, eyebrows furrowing as he walked over. “Okay, what the hell happened?”

Changbin hesitated, his jaw tightening as if debating whether to say anything. That only made Han more concerned.

The sound of doors opening caught his attention, and a moment later, Seungmin and Hyunjin appeared in the hall, both looking just as confused.

“What was that?” Seungmin asked, rubbing his eyes.

Hyunjin yawned, still half-asleep. “Did someone slam a door, or did Felix just punch a hole in the wall again?”

Changbin sighed, clearly not in the mood to joke. “Just… wake up Minho and Chan. Get them downstairs.”

That woke Han up real fast.

Something was seriously wrong.

Within a few minutes, they were all downstairs, seated at the long dining table. Everyone except Felix.

Chan looked alert despite just waking up, concern etched deep into his features. He scanned their faces, quickly picking up on the tension in the room. “Alright. Someone tell me what’s going on.”

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with unspoken words. Changbin was the one to break it.

“Felix…” He paused, trying to find the right words. “Felix found something out. Something big.”

Han watched as the weight of those words settled over the group. Chan’s expression hardened, Minho leaned forward slightly, Hyunjin sat up straighter, and Seungmin frowned.

“What did he find out?” Chan asked, voice steady.

Changbin let out a slow breath before explaining everything—Felix going to his old apartment, meeting his neighbor, receiving the box, finding his birth certificate, realizing his mother’s name wasn’t right.

By the time he was finished, the room was deathly silent.

Han felt his chest tighten.

He had to grip his hands together to keep them from shaking.

Felix.

Felix, who had fought so hard to find some kind of peace, who had spent years thinking his mother had loved him before addiction took her away. Felix, who had grieved for a family that—now—-might not have even been his.

Han felt tears sting his eyes.

He remembered when Chan first brought Felix home. He had been broken. Flinched at everything. The signs of abuse were written plainly across his skin, his posture, the way he kept his head down and his fists clenched like he was ready to fight or run at any second.

It had taken months just for Felix to be comfortable in the same room with them.

Han had been the first to break through his sheel.

He still remembered that night. The one when he had found Felid at his mother’s grave, sitting in the dark, knees pulled up to his chest. That was the first time Felix had told him about her—how good she was before the drugs, how much she used to love him, how he missed her.

And now….

Now, it was all a lie.

Han clenched his jaw, siping at his eyes before the tears could fall.

Seungmin broke the silence, voice cautious. “How does he know for sure?”

Changbin exhaled. “He ran a DNA test on Chan’s system.”

Chan raised an eyebrow at that, but nodded, absorbing the information.

Hyunjin shifted uncomfortably. “So… what do we do?” His voice was hesitant. “There’s no way he’s going to take this well.”

Before anyone could answer, a sharp scoff echoed from the staircase.

They turned just in time to see Felix standing at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, his expression twisted in pure betrayal.

“You told them?"

“Felix, come on—”

”Stay out of it!” Felix whipped toward Chan before he could even speak.

Chan frowned, but his voice remained steady. “We’re trying to help you.”

Felix let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Help me? You think you can help me? How, exactly? By treating me like a fucking child?” His hands curled into fists. “You don’t get it, Chan. None of you do. My whole life, I thought I knew who I was. And now? Now, I find out it was all a lie! I don’t even know who the hell I am anymore!”

Minho, ever the calm one, leaned back in his chair. “Felix, you need to calm down.”

Felix laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Oh, calm down? Sure, yeah, I’ll get right on that. Let me just forget that my entire life has been a goddamn joke.

The argument escalated from there, voices rising, anger thick in the air. Felix’s emotions were raw, exposed, and he lashed out at every attempt to soothe him.

Then, suddenly, Chan stood, stepping forward, his voice sharp. “That’s enough—”

Felix flinched.

It was subtle.

A barely-there movement, his body reacting before his mind could stop it. But it was enough.

His foot slipped back, his shoulder hitting the wall, posture shrinking for just a split second—long enough for the room to freeze.

No one breathed.

Felix blinked rapidly, then took a slow, shaky inhale before setting his jaw. His hands clenched at his sides. His voice, when he finally spoke, was cold, bitter.

“Stay out of it.”

Then, without waiting for a response, he turned and walked back upstairs.

No one stopped him. No one could. The house fell silent once more, but this time, it was worse. It wasn’t just awkward tension anymore.

It was pain.

It was the weight of realization settling over them all.

Han felt his heart crack in his chest.

Felix hadn’t flinched in months.

-

The grandfather clock in the corner of the cave ticked away the seconds, but Chan barely registered the sound. His boots scuffed against the floor as he paced back and forth, hands buried in his hair, thoughts racing a mile a minute. The events of the morning replayed over and over in his head, but no matter how many times he dissected them, they always ended the same way.

Felix.

The flinch.

The pain in his voice.

The way he had looked at Chan, like he was just another person who had betrayed him.

Chan exhaled sharply, shaking his head, his movements restless. His mind wasn’t just stuck on what had happened—but why.

The DNA test. The water-damaged name. The missing pieces of Felix’s past.

None of it made sense.

Chan was a detective at heart. He wasn’t the type to let things go, especially not this. If Felix’s mother wasn’t who they thought she was, then who was she? Why had Felix been raised believing a lie?

And why did it feel like something much bigger was hiding beneath the surface?

“You’re going to burn a hole in the floor if you keep pacing like that.”

Chan turned sharply, not realizing he wasn’t alone anymore.

Seungmin leaned against the entryway, arms crossed, watching him with his usual unimpressed expression.

Chan let out a breath, running a hand down his face. “I can’t just sit here.”

Seungmin hummed, stepping inside. “Yeah, I figured. You’re in full ‘obsessive detective’ mode.”

Chan didn’t deny it.

Seungmin sighed, walking over to one of the armchairs and dropping into it, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Look, I get it. You feel guilty.”

Chan’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue.

“You think you pushed him too hard,” Seungmin continued. “And yeah, maybe you did, but Felix… he’s not as fragile as you think.”

Chan scoffed, turning away. “That’s not the point, Seungmin.”

“Then what is the point?”

Chan didn’t answer right away. His fingers curled into fists at his sides. “He flinched.” His voice was quiet but heavy. “He hasn’t done that in months.”

Seungmin was silent for a moment before sighing. “That wasn’t your fault.”

Chan turned back to him, expression weary. “Wasn’t it?”

Seungmin stared at him for a long time, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I get that you feel responsible for him, but Chan, he’s not that kid you found on the streets anymore. He’s grown. He’s strong. And yeah, he’s pissed at you, but he’s always pissed at someone.”

Chan let out a humorless chuckle. “You’re not wrong.”

Seungmin tilted his head. “But this isn’t just about the fight, is it?”

Chan tensed slightly.

Seungmin’s eyes narrowed, watching him closely. Then, after a pause, his lips curled into a small smirk.

“So… when are you going to confess to him?”

Chan froze.

His head snapped toward Seungmin, who looked completely unborhtered, as if he hadn’t just dropped that question out of nowhere.

“...What?”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow. “Come on, hyung. You think we don’t see it?” He gestured vaguely. “The way you always look at him? The way you protect him more than any of us? Hell, even the way you fought with him last night—it’s different when it’s Felix.”

Chan turned away, jaw clenching. Seungmin wasn’t wrong. And that was the problem.

“It’s not right,” Chan muttered.

Seungmin sighed, shaking his head. “You keep telling yourself that, but what does that even mean? It’s not like you’re that much older than him.”

“It’s not about age,” Chan said, voice quieter. “It’s about power.”

Seungmin stilled.

Chan exhaled, leaning against the desk. “I took him in, Seungmin. I trained him, raised him into this life. That… imbalance will always exist. And even if it didn’t—Felix deserves better than me.”

Seungmin stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head. “You’re an idiot.”

Chan huffed a laugh, though it was tired.

Seungmin stood, stretching. “Well, whatever. You do what you want, but just know, Felix isn’t an idiot. He’s probably already figured it out.”

Chan swallowed. That thought terrified him more than anything.

Seungmin sighed. “Just… don’t let this eat you alive, alright?”

Chan didn’t answer, but Seungmin didn’t seem to expect one. With that, he turned and walked out of the study, leaving Chan alone once more.

The room was silent, again, save for the ticking clock.

Chan should’ve gone to bed. He should’ve stepped away, let his mind rest.

But he couldn’t.

His hands twitched, fingers itching towards the keyboard. His detective instincts refused to let this go. Before he could stop himself, he turned to the Batcomputer, fingers flying across the keys as he pulled up the database.

His mind whirred as he typed in the little information he had. There was one thing he knew for sure. Felix’s mother had a first name that started with S and a last name that started with H.

Chan pressed enter.

The system began running the search.

As the data loaded, Chan leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowing as he whispered under his breath.

“Who the hell are you?”

-

Hyunjin had always been good at sneaking around. It came with the territory of being a vigilante—silent footsteps, quick reflexes, and a knack for getting into places he shouldn’t.

Which was exactly how he found himself scaling the side of Bang Manor in the dead of night, climbing up toward Felix’s window like a particularly annoying bat.

The stars were bright above Gotham tonight, a rare sight considering the usual smog and city lights. But Hyunjin barely spared them a glance as he gripped the ledge, shifting his weight until he was hanging just outside Felix’s window.

He knocked once.

No response.

He knocked again, a little louder this time.

Still nothing.

Rolling his eyes, Hyunjin adjusted his grip, hanging upside down by his knees and knocking obnoxiously against the glass.

Finally, the curtain was yanked back, and Felix’s face appeared, his glare half-lit by the moonlight. His hair was slightly messy, his eyes still a little red from earlier, but his annoyance was very much intact.

Hyunjin grinned.

Felix’s glare deepened before he unlocked the window and shoved it open. ” What the hell are you doing?”

“Deying gravity,” Hyunjin said cheerfully before swinging himself inside and landing gracefully on the floor. He dusted himself off and looked around. “You know, for a room in a billionaire’s house, yours is weirdly messy.”

Felix shut the window behind him with a sharp click and crossed his arms. “What do you want, Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin dropped onto Felix’s bed, stretching out like he belonged there. “I wanted to check on you.”

Felix scoffed. “Well, I’m alive. Thanks for the concern.”

Hyunjin ignored the sarcasm, sitting up and tilting his head. “Felix…” His tone softened. “I mean it. Are you okay?”

Felix’s expression flickered—just for a second—before he looked away, sitting down on the edge of the bed with a sigh. “I don’t know,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know what to think. Or feel. One second, I was angry. The next, I felt—” He cut himself off, exhaling through his nose.

Hyunjin nudged him with his foot. “Felt what?”

Felix clenched his jaw. “Lost.”

Hyunjin stilled, watching him closely.

Felix huffed out a humorless laugh. “I mean, think about it. I spent years thinking I knew who my mother was. I thought she loved me before the drugs. I thought—” His voice wavered, but he swallowed it down. “And now, it turns out I was wrong. That my own name on that damn birth certificate doesn’t even feel like mine anymore.”

Hyunjin was quiet for a long moment before he sighed. “Felix, you know who you are. You do. That hasn’t changed.”

Felix let out another scoff. “Really? Because it sure as hell feels like it’s changed.”

Hyunjin kicked him lightly. “You’re still you, dumbass."

Felix shot him a look. "Real heartfelt. Thanks."

Hyunjin grinned. "Hey, what are best friends for?"

Then, Hyunjin's eyes gleamed mischieviously. "Soooo...."

Felix frowned. "So what?"

Hyunjin leaned forward. "Are we gonna talk about your feelings for Chan or...?"

Felix immediately stiffened. Then he turned, glaring at Hyunjin with such intensity that if looks could kill, Hyunjin would be dead.

Hyunjin cackled. "Oh my god, you're blushing-"

Felix's ears were definitely red. “Shut the hell up.”

“Why are you so mad? I’m just saying—”

“I said shut up.”

Hyunjin smirked. “You didn’t deny it, though.”

Felix groaned, flopping backwards onto the bed. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Hyunjin said, lying back beside him. “So, what’s stopping you?”

Felix scowled at the ceiling. “Besides the fact that I’m still mad at him?”

Hyunjin snorted. “Fair point. But we both know that’’ fade soon.”

Felix turned his head to glare at him again. “You seriously think I like him?”

Hyunjin gave him a flat look. “Felix. You literally would rather die than disappoint him. You’re in love with him.”

Felix groaned again, covering his face with his hands.

Hyunjin grinned, nudging him with his elbow. “Come on. Just admit it.”

Felix peeked at him from between his fingers. “No.”

Hyunjin pouted. “Boring.”

Felix sighed, finally dropping his hands. “It doesn’t even matter. Even if I did feel something, Chan would never…” He trailed off, his throat tightening. “It wouldn’t happen.”

Hyunjin hummed. “Mm. You say that. But I know Chan.”

Felix scoffed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Hyunjin smirked. “I’m saying that he definitely already started digging into your birth records.”

Felix blinked.

Then groaned, rubbing his face. “Jesus Christ, of course he is.”

Hyunjin laughed, throwing an arm over his eyes. “He’s the world’s greatest detective, Lix. What did you expect?”

Felix just sighed again, shaking his head. “I hate all of you.”

Hyunjin grinned. “Yeah, yeah. Love you too.”

-

The Batcave had been silent all day.

Minho had expected it. Chan had been off since last night, and after the conversation they’d had at the table, it wasn’t hard to guess where their leader would be—buried in his work, obsessing over Felix’s past like it was another mystery to solve.

So, it was no surprise when Minho made his way down into the cave in the late afternoon and found Chan exactly where he thought he’d be.

The glow of the Batcomputer illuminated Chan’s face, the only light in the dim cavern. He was sitting forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the screen with an intensity Minho had seen too many times before. His brows were furrowed, his jaw tight. The detective was in full force, consumed by the case in front of him.

Minho walked closer, glancing at the screens.

Three women were displayed side by side.

Each had a first name beginning with S and a last name beginning with H.

Minho crossed his arms, leaning against the console. “So. This is what you’ve been doing all day.”

Chan didn’t look away from the screen. “Felix deserves answers.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “And you’re going to give them to him?”

Chan finally exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked exhausted—his eyes rimmed with the telltale signs of too little sleep, his shoulders tense with the weight of whatever conclusions he was forming in his mind.

“I’m going to let him decide,” Chan said quietly. “This is his life. His past. I won’t make the choice for him.”

Minho studied him for a moment before sighing. ‘You know, most people would take a break after an emotionally traumatic family argument. But no, not you. You just throw yourself into another mystery instead.”

Chan let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “I don’t know how else to help him.”

Minho sighed, finally straightening up. “So, what now?”

Chan opened his mouth to answer—

But before he could speak, a sharp beep echoed through the cave.

The Batcomputer flashed red, and a robotic voice rang out:

” ALERT: EXPLOSION REPORTED IN DOWNTOWN GOTHAM. POSSIBLE TERRORIST ACTIVITY. SUSPECT: UNKNOWN.”

Minho stiffened.

Chan was already moving, fingers flying across the keys as he pulled up the report. A live news feed flickered onto the screen, showing a cloud of smoke billowing from a burning building in the heart of the city. Emergency sirens wailed in the background, and people were running through the streets in a panic.

The camera panned over the wreckage, and Minho’s stomach dropped at the sight of a crudely painted smiley face on the remaining wall of the building.

Chan’s voice was grim. “Suspected to be Joker’s doing.”

Minho’s fists clenched at his sides.

Before he could say anything, the sound of hurried footsteps filled the cave as the rest of the team rushed in.

Hyunjin was already pulling on his gloves. ‘What’s the situation?”

Chan kept his eyes on the screen. “Explosion downtown. Joker’s behind it most likely.”

Seungmin swore under his breath while Changbin was already strapping on his gear. They moved like a well-oiled machine, quickly preparing for the mission. Minho grabbed his own weapons, checking his utility belt as the tension in the air thickened.

Then, for the first time, Minho noticed Felix standing at the edge of the group, watching silently.

Chan did too.

His expression hardened slightly as he turned to him. “You’re sitting out.”

Felix’s shoulders stiffened, his jaw clenching. But before he could argue, Chan gestured toward the Batcomputer. "But check the file I left open.”

Felix’s eyes flickered to the screen, where the three women’s profiles were still displayed.

He didn’t say anything.

He just stared

Chan exhaled heavily as he turned away, grabbing his cowl.

As they moved toward the Batmobile, Chan glancing back one last time, meeting Felix’s eyes.

Something in his chest twisted.

Felix’s expression was unreadable, his fists tight as his sides. He was barely breathing, his gaze flicking between Chan and the screen.

Chan sighed.

Then he turned away, stepping into the Batmobile as the team pulled out, leaving Felix behind.

-

The moment the Batmobile screeched to a halt, the team was in motion. The explosion had left the street in ruins—flaming wreckage, collapsed buildings, and shattered glass littered the pavement. Thick smoke billowed into the night sky, glowing an ominous orange from the fires still raging. Sirens wailed in the distance, but the GCPD and emergency responders wouldn’t be able to reach the heart of the blast fast enough.

That was their job.

Chan’s voice was sharp and controlled through the comms. “Priority one: get civilians out. Prority two: find out what Joker’s really up to. He doesn’t bomb things without a reason. Normally.”

His team sprang into action.

Hyunjin sprinted towards the largest blaze, eyes narrowing against the heat as he extended his arms. A gust of frost swirled around him, crackling as he concentrated his power. The moment he exhaled, a blast of ice shot forward, encasing the flames in a thick sheet of frost. Fire hissed and snapped as the extreme temperatures clashed.

It wasn’t perfect—ice couldn’t put out all the flames, but it could buy them time.

Behind him, a young boy was crying, trapped between a fallen streetlamp and a pile of rubble. The fire was too close, the smoke thickening.

Hyunjin acted on instinct. He leaned over the wreckage, sliding on the ice he had just created, and reached the kid in seconds. He scooped him up, murmuring, “I’ve got you, little guy. You’re safe.”

The child clung to his jacket, coughing as Hyunjin rushed him to safety.

On the other side of the street, Changbin was already ripping debris apart with his bare hands.

A car had flipped from the blast, pinning a family beneath it. The mother was shielding her two children, trying to keep them calm despite the terror in her eyes.

Changbin crouched beside the vehicle, muscles tensing. “Stay down. I’ll lift it—When I do, crawl out fast, alright?”

The woman nodded frantically.

Changbin took a breath, then heaved.

The car groaned as he lifted it with raw strength, metal twisting under his grip. As soon as the gap was big enough, the family scrambled out, stumbling to safety.

“Go!” Changbin urged, waiting until they were clear before tossing the car aside like it weighed nothing.

Seungmin was already at work, crouching beside an injured man with a broken leg. His hands hovered just above the wound, glowing faintly as his healing ability took effect.

“Hold still,” he murmured, his voice calm despite the chaos around them.

The man gasped as the pain lessened, his wound slowly mending under Seungmin’s touch. His skin stitched back together, bruises fading within moments.

“T-That’s not possible,” the man stammered in disbelief.

Seungmin gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Welcome to Gotham.”

Meanwhile, deeper in the wreckage, Chan and Han worked fast, searching for why Joker had set this up.

It didn’t make sense. Joker never did something like this without a bigger spectacle. He wanted Batman’s attention. He wanted the whole city to watch. But this? A simple bombing, no grand monologue, no public announcement?

Something was off.

Han shoved aside a chunk of collapsed brick, his sharp eyes scanning for anything out of place. That was when he spotted it—an old, rusted metal box half-buried beneath the rubble.

His instincts flared.

“Batman,” he called, dusting off the lid.

Chan crouched beside him, frowning. “That doesn’t belong here.”

Han pried the box open, revealing burned, crumpled documents. Most of it was illegible, charred from the explosion, but one paper had a name scrawled across it in Joker’s unmistakable handwriting.

Moscow, Russia.

Below it, in messy red ink:

Payload. Secured. Awaiting departure.

Chan’s blood ran cold.

Joker didn’t just bomb a random street.

This was a distraction.

“Everyone, fall back to the Batcave. Now.”

Seungmin wrapped up his last healing, helping an injured woman onto her feet. “You’re good to go. Medics will be here soon.”

Hyunjin let the ice settle over the burning wreckage, preventing the flames from spreading further.

Minho took one last scan of the area before nodding toward Chan. “We’re clear.”

The team regrouped, sprinting toward their vehicles. As they pulled out, the weight of the discovery settled over them like a storm cloud.

A nuclear weapons plot.

If Joker had somehow gotten his hands on that, Gotham was only the beginning.

-

The Batcave was quiet, save for the faint hum of the Batcomputer and the occasional flicker of the news broadcast in the background. Felix barely noticed any of it. His entire focus was locked on the screen in front of him, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he filtered through information, eliminating possibilities one by one.

Three names had appeared in Chan’s search. Three women whose first names began with S and last names began with H. All having given birth to a son in the same year he was.

He had ruled one out quickly—her records didn’t match, and she had no connections to Gotham.

The second had inconsistencies, details that didn’t add up.

That left only one.

Sheila Haywood

Felix flicked on her pfoile, his breath catching as her history unfolded before him.

She was a doctor. A volunteer with Doctors for Humanity, currently stationed in Moscow, helping to rebuild after the revolution.

His heartbeat pounded in his ears.

He scrolled further, looking through her background, her education, her previous addresses. The more he read, the more his stomach twisted.

She had a history in Gotham.

She had a history of leaving.

She had a history that matched his.

Felix’s fingers tightened around the edge of the desk. His breath came unevenly, heart hammering so hard he could feel it in his throat.

His mother.

This was her.

She was real.

Felix didn’t know how long he sat there, staring at her face, committing every feature to memory. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, itching to do something—anything—but his mind felt too scrambled to process it all.

Then, something on the other screen caught his attention. The fire from the explosion earlier was gone. His eyes flickered back to the live news report just as a distant screech of tires rang out over the broadcast.

Felix’s stomach twisted.

Minutes later, the cave shook as the Batmobile roared into the cave, followed closely by the other vehicles. The sound of rushing footsteps echoed through the cavernous space.

The car barely came to a stop before Chan was moving, jumping out and already barking orders.

“Gear up!” His voice was sharp, controlled, commanding. “Everyone, I want you suited up and on the jet in thirty minutes.”

Felix’s head snapped up.

“What—wait—what’s going on?” His voice was confused, but nobody answered.

Everyone was already rushing around him, grabbing weapons, checking supplies, and pulling on their gear. Felix felt a wave of frustration surge up in his chest. He hated this. Being left out. Being ignored.

He grabbed Chan’s arm before he could disappear. “Chan!” Felix snapped. “What the hell is happening?”

Chan barely hesitated, his jaw tight as he turned. “Joker has a nuclear weapons plot. We think he took off to Russia.”

Felix’s stomach dropped.

Russia.

Moscow.

Felix’s mouth went dry.

He opened his mouth to say something—to tell him — but before he could, Chan was already stepping away.

“You’re not coming,” his tone was firm, absolute.

Felt like the air had been knocked from his lungs.

“No, wait—” He lunged forward, throwing himself in front of Cham, blocking his path.

Chan stopped, his brow furrowing. “Felix—”

” I found my mom.”

The entire room froze.

All the movement, all the chaos, all the rushing—everything stopped.

Felix felt his chest rising and falling, felt the weight of every gaze turning toward him. Chan’s eyes flickered, uncertainty creeping into his usually unreadable expression.

Felix swallowed hard. His voice shook slightly, but he pushed forward. “Sheila Haywood. She’s in Russia. Moscow.” He clenched his fists. “She’s real, Chan. She’s there.” His breath came uneven, fast. “I—I need to go.”

Chan didn’t speak at first.

The weight of Felix’s words hung in the air, suffocating. Felix felt his hands tremble slightly, so he curled them into fists, trying to steady himself.

He forced himself to look Chan in the eyes, to push past the way his chest hurt, to keep himself together. “I swear, I won’t do anything else. I’ll only look for her. That’s it.”

Chan’s jaw tensed.

Felix saw the battle happening behind his eyes—the internal war of logic versus emotion.

Seconds stretched into eternity.

He didn’t beg.

He didn’t plead.

But his voice was softer when he said, “Please.”

Chan exhaled sharply, looking away for a moment. His fists tightened at his sides. Then finally he spoke.

“...Fine.”

Felix’s breath hitched.

Chan’s eyes met his again, warning, serious.

“You can come,” he said, voice low. “But only for your mother. No missions. No Joker. Do you understand?”

Felix nodded fast; his whole body was tense, like if he let himself relax for even a second, he’d collapse under the weight of it all. “Understood.”

Chan studied him for another long moment, like he was trying to make sure, like he was still hesitating. Then, he gave a sharp nod. “Then suit up.”

Felix barely heard the words before he was already moving, rushing to grab his gear and extra clothes.

Moscow.

His mother.

Answers.

For the first time in his life, he was finally going to know.

-

The cold Russian air hit Felix like a slap to the face as he stepped out of the cab, his breath curling in the winter air. The sky was a heavy gray, the city alive with the usual dull of hum of cars and distant voices, but he barely registered any of it. His hands were clenched inside his pockets, fingers cold despite the gloves he wore.

His heart was pounding.

Right in front of him was the hospital.

She’s in there.

The thought alone made his stomach churn.

Chan and the toehrs had taken off toward an old, decommissioned military base on the outskirts of the city. The last known lead on Joker’s movements. Felix didn’t care. Joker wasn’t his concern right now.

This? This was personal.

Felix inhaled sharply, forcing himself forward.

The automatic doors slid open, flooding him with warm, sterile air. The inside of the hospital smelled like antiseptic, like fresh linen and something faintly metallic. Nurses in blue scrubs moved through the halls, doctors in white coats scanned tablets, and the low hum of conversation filled the space.

He walked up to the front desk, trying to steady his nerves.

A woman behind the counter glanced up at him, her dark eyes assessing. She said something in Russian.

Felix blinked. And spoke in English. “Uh, hi. I’m looking for Dr. Sheila Haywood.”

The woman’s brow furrowed slightly. She turned to her computer, fingers tapping against the keys. “One moment.”

Felix swallowed, rocking on his heels.

His chest was tight.

Was she even really here? Had he just chased some impossible dream, only to be turned away?

Then—

“Felix?”

His breath stopped.

The voice was hesitant, almost disbelieving.

He turned slowly.

And there she was.

Dr. Sheila Haywood stood at the end of the hall, frozen in place, staring at him like she’d just seen a ghost. Her hair was slightly darker than the last image he had seen, pulled back into a loose ponytail. The white coat she wore looked too big for her frame, her grip tightening around the clipboard tucked under her arm.

Felix felt like his entire body had locked up. He didn’t know what he had expected. Shock? Confusion? Maybe anger?

But instead, Sheila took a small, shuddering breath and whispered, ” You look just like your father.”

Felic barely breathed. His throat was tight, hands shaking at his sides. The words shouldn’t have hit him so hard. They shouldn’t have sent a bolt of something raw through his chest.

He didn’t know what to say.

Didn’t know how to say anything at all.

But Sheila seemed to snap out of it, quickly looking around, her expression shifting into something unreadable. “Come with me.”

Felix numbly followed.

The hospital breakroom was small and dimly lit, the only sounds coming from the faint buzz of the fluorescent lights overhead.

Felix sat stiffly in one of the chairs, his back straight, his hands clasped together between his knees. He felt wired, like every nerve in his body was pulled too tight.

Sheila sat across from him, still staring, still processing.

For a long time, neither of them spoke.

Then, finally, she exhaled and leaned back, pressing a hand to her forehead. “I—” She hesitated, shaking her head. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Felix clenched his jaw. “How about from the beginning?”

Sheila huffed a quiet, humorless laugh. “The beginning,” she murmured, almost to herself.

She stayed silent for a moment before finally meeting his gaze.

“I met your father when I was young,” she said, voice distant, like she was looking through time itself. “Too young. He was charming in his way. Dangerous, unpredictable. I thought I could handle it.” A biter smile pulled at her lips. ‘I was wrong.”

Felix’s stomach twisted, but he stayed quiet.

Sheila sighed. “I wasn’t ready to be a mother. I knew that. And when I found out I was pregnant…” Her gaze flickered. “I panicked.”

Felix clenched his fists against his thighs.

Sheila didn’t seem to notice. She was too lost in her own thoughts, her own memories.

“I tried to make it work,” she admitted softly. “For a while. But your father… he had other plans. He got involved in things—dangerous things. I couldn’t stay. I wouldn’t stay.”

Felix inhaled sharply through his nose. “So you just left?”

Sheila exhaled, looking away.

Felix wasn’t sure what answer he wanted, but that sure as hell wasn’t it.

“I had no choice,” she murmured.

There was something in her voice—something off. Felix caught it instantly. She was lying. Or at least, she wasn’t telling him everything. His instincts flared, something nagging at the back of his mind.

His voice was quieter when he spoke again. “You’re in trouble.”

Sheila tensed.

Felix knew that reaction. The slight shift in posture, the way her fingers twitched against the table. It was fear.

His gut twisted.

Felix leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Aren’t you?”

Sheila’s eyes darted toward the door. It was subtle, but he caught it—the flicker of flight mode, the silent debate running through her mind.

Felix should have backed off. Should have let it go. But against his better judgment, the words left his mouth before he could stop them.

“I can help you.”

Sheila’s head snapped back toward him, her gaze sharp.

Felix swallowed. “I work with Batman.”

Her expression flickered—recognition, hesitation, something.

Felix’s heartbeat was a drum in his ears.

The silence stretched between them.

Then, slowly, Sheila reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small notepad. She scribbled something down, tore the page out, and slid it across the table.

Felix’s fingers hovered before finally picking it up.

A phone number.

Sheila met his eyes again, her expression unreadable. “I’ll text you,” she said softly. “But I have to get back to work. We’ll talk later.”

Felix barely breathed.

He watched as she stood, smoothing down her coat, casting one last glance at him before walking toward the door. And just like that, she was gone.

Felix sat there for a long time, staring at the phone number in his hand. His breath was uneven, his chest too tight. He had come here for answers. Instead, he’d walked into something bigger. Something that didn’t feel finished.

His mother was alive. His real mother. And she was afraid of something.

Felix exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. Then, suddenly, he let out a breathless, almost disbelieving laugh. This was insane. Completely and absolutely insane.

But she was real. She had given him a way to reach her. Felix let himself smile, shaking his head as he stood. He turned toward the exit, stepping back into the cold Moscow air.

The jet was waiting.

-

The familiar roar of the jet’s engines sent a wave of relief through Chan as he stepped outside the decommissioned military base. The darkened sky stretched endlessly above him, the icy Moscow air biting at his exposed skin, but he barely noticed. His gaze remained locked on the approaching aircraft, its silhouette cutting through the night as it descended onto the makeshift landing strip they had secured earlier.

Felix had listened. He had come back.

Chan had spent the entire mission trying not to let his worry consume him, trying to focus on the objective, but the weight of Felix’s absence had pressed down on his chest like a vice. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about the worst-case scenarios, hadn’t let his mind wander to the possibilities of what could have happened if Felix had decided not to return.

Now, seeing the jet land safely, he exhaled, a knot in his stomach finally unraveling.

The mission itself had been a complete bust. Joker was already gone by the time they arrived, leaving behind little more than chaos and scraps of information. But they weren’t completely empty-handed. They had a new lead, one that would send them to his next location, and they needed to regroup quickly before he could slip further away.

Chan jogged toward the jet, his boots crunching against the frost-covered ground. As the ramp lowered, the dim interior lights of the cabin illuminated Felix curled up in the pilot's seat, the soft glow of his phone reflecting in his eyes. He was completely engrossed in whatever he was reading, his fingers hovering over the screen, his expression unreadable.

Chan’s stomach clenched slightly.

Had it gone well? Had he gotten the answers he wanted?

Or had this entire trip only made things worse?

Felix looked up as he approached, eyes widening slightly as he hastily tucked his phone into his lap. He forced a casual smile, but Chan wasn’t fooled.

“Hey,” Felix greeted, voice light, too light.

Chan didn’t have time to call him out on it before Minho stepped past him, eyeing Felix warily. “Tell me you didn’t fly yourself here,” he said, crossing his arms.

Felix scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Relax, I used autopilot.”

Hyunjin let out a dramatic exhale of relief, pressing a hand to his chest. “Oh, thank God. Last thing we need is you crashing a multi-billion-dollar jet into Russian airspace.”

Seungmin titled his head, his sharp gaze locking onto Felix. “So? What happened?”

Felix hesitated for a moment, his fingers tapping absently against the edge of the seat.

That pause was all it took for Chan to know that something wasn’t right.

The others leaned in, waiting, but Felix took his time answering. Finally, he exhaled and leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face before speaking.

“She knew who I was the second she saw me,” he admitted, his voice quieter now, more subdued. “First thing out of her mouth was how much I looked like my father.”

That made the others pause.

Han let out a quiet hum. “I mean, that tracks.”

Felix gave a humorless chuckle. “Yeah, well. Then we talked. She told me about how she met my dad, how she got caught up in his life, how she wasn’t ready to be a mom. She said she panicked when she found out she was pregnant.”

Hyunjin frowned, his expression shifting into something softer. “So, she just… left?”

Felix didn’t answer immediately. His gaze dropped to his lap, to his fingers tightening slightly where they rested on his knee.

“She said she had to,” he murmured. “That she had no choice.”

Minho studied him, his brows pulling together. “You don’t believe her.”

Felix swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he exhaled slowly. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice laced with something fragile. “I think—I think there’s more to it. That she’s hiding something.”

That was when Chan stepped forward, his entire body tensing.

There was something Felix wasn’t saying. Something he was holding back.

Chan’s instincts flared, his mind already running ahead, piecing things together.

He turned to Minho, his voice steady but firm. “Take over flying.”

Minho gave him a look but nodded, moving toward the cockpit. The rest of the team shifted awkwardly, sensing the sudden weight in the air.

Chan didn’t give them a second glance. He reached down, grabbing Felix’s wrist, and gently pulled him toward the back of the jet.

Felix didn’t resist.

Chan didn’t hesitate. The second they were alone, he pulled Felix into a tight hug, arms wrapping around him securely.

Felix shuddered slightly in his grasp, his body stiff at first before he slowly melted into the embrace.

Chan closed his eyes, his grip firm but careful, like he was afraid Felix might slip away if he let go. His voice was quieter this time, softer. “Are you okay?”

Felix hesitated.

Chan felt him shift, felt the tension still coiled in his muscles. Then, slowly, Felix pulled back, his hands shaking slightly as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.

Chan frowned as Felix turned the screen toward him. A message thread.

His stomach twisted as he read the texts.

Sheila Haywood: I need to talk to you. I can’t at the hospital.

Sheila Haywood: Meet me here.

Beneath the message was an address.

Chan’s stomach dropped.

Felix’s voice was careful when he spoke. “I figured I’d go talk to her while you and the others deal with Joker.”

Chan froze.

Felix’s expression was serious, his determination clear in his posture.

And Chan hated it.

Every single alarm in his mind was going off, every instinct screaming at him that something was wrong.

The jet shuddered slightly as they touched down in their designated safe zone, far enough from the action where Felix could wait.

Chan looked back at him, took in the way Felix was watching him with wide, pleading eyes. And he sighed, rubbing a hand down his face.

He handed Felix’s phone back, shaking his head. “You’re not going.”

Felix’s entire body stiffened. His lips parted slightly, like he hadn’t even considered the possibility of being told no.

“What?” His voice was quiet, laced with confusion.

Chan clenched his jaw. “You’re not going. I have a bad feeling about it.”

Felix’s breath came out in a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “A bad feeling? Chan, this is my mom. She’s in trouble—”

“I don’t like this, Felix,” Chan cut in, his voice firm but laced with something deeper—something frantic. “I don’t want you going alone.”

Felix’s breath hitched. He stared at Chan, stunned, his expression shifting into something almost vulnerable.

Chan exhaled harshly, running a hand through his hair. His voice wavered, struggling to keep control. “I–I care about you, Felix.”

Felix’s eyes widened.

Chan swallowed thickly, taking a step closer, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. “I love you. And I can’t lose you.” His voice cracked. “I need to be there. I need to make sure you’re safe.”

Felix’s lower lip trembled. His eyes were glassy, his breath uneven.

Chan swallowed hard. “Please,” he whispered. “Just wait for us.”

Felix let out a shuddering breath, his face twisting with devastation.

Then, slowly, he nodded.

Chan’s chest ached with relief.

Felix squeezed his hands softly before Chan pulled him into another hug. This time, Felix held on tightly, his grip almost desperate.

One by one, the boys said their goodbyes as they exited the jet.

Hyunjin ruffled Felix’s hair. ‘Don’t do anything stupid while we’re gone.”

Felix rolled his eyes, but his voice was softer when he said, “You too.”

Seungmin patted his shoulder. “We’ll be back soon.”

Minho nodded. “Stay here.” It wasn’t a request.

Han flashed a grin. “We’ll bring you back a souvenir.”

Changbin gave a final, reassuring squeeze of Felix’s arm. “We got this.”

Felix forced a small smile, nodding to each of them.

Then, just before Chan left, he turned back.

Felix was standing there, watching them go.

And just before the door closed—

Chan saw him wipe away a tear.

His heart clenched

Something about this still felt wrong.

-

The jet was silent, save for the sound of Felix’s boots pacing back and forth across the metal floor. His hands fisted in his hair as he let out a sharp exhale, frustration curling in his chest like a vice.

He couldn’t believe Chan wouldn’t let him go.

Chan, who always said he trusted him. Chan, who had given him a command like Felix was still some reckless kid who didn’t know how to take care of himself.

But then Felix’s pacing faltered as his mind replayed those last words Chan had said to him.

”I love you"

His stomach twisted, heat crawling up his neck. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair as he groaned softly.

What the hell was he supposed to do with that?”

Did Chan even mean it the way Felix thought he did? Or was it just some desperate plea to keep him safe, another way to try and control him?

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Felix froze.

His heart pounded as he pulled it out, fingers tightening when he saw the message on the screen.

Sheila Haywood: Are you coming? I really need you, Felix. Please.

Felix bit his lip, torn.

She needed him.

His own mother needed him.

He glanced toward the cockpit, where the others had disappeared minutes ago, heading toward Joker’s trail. He knew Chan meant well. He knew he cared. But this? This was something Felix had to do.

Felix sighed, his decision already made.

I’ll apologize later.

To Chan. To Minho. To all of them.

He quickly yanked out the suit he had hidden, pulling it on with practiced movements. His fingers flew over the straps, securing everything tightly before he grabbed one of the spare bikes stored in the jet. The hum of the engine was quiet as he wheeled it toward the exit, the adrenaline already surging through him.

One deep breath.

Then he was gone.

Felix’s boots barely made a sound against the cracked pavement as he approached the rusted warehouse doors. The place was abandoned, surrounded by the remnants of war-torn Moscow, forgotten by time. His breath came out in short, visible puffs in the cold air as he pushed open the door, stepping inside with a cautious but determined stride.

The interior was dimly lit, the flickering overhead bulbs barely illuminating the large, empty space. The air smelled of rust and damp concrete, the sound of water dripping from a leaky pipe echoing in the silence. It was unsettingly quiet, a vast emptiness that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

Then, movement.

Felix’s pulse jumped as his mother stepped out from the shadows, wrapped in a thick coat, her hands tucked into her pockets.

“Mom,” he breathed, his voice hesitant.

Her eyes flickered over him, scanning his face, and for a moment, she looked almost relieved to see him. But then something else crept into her expression—something hesitant, something off.

“You came,” she murmured.

Felix swallowed, taking another step toward her. “Of course I did. You said you needed me.”

Sheila’s lips pressed together, and she turned slightly, glancing toward the far end of the warehouse. It was a small movement, but Felix caught it.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

Something was wrong.

He watched her closely, the way she shifted her weight slightly, the way her fingers twitched in her pockets, the way her eyes darted toward the exit like she was calculating something.

Felix felt a cold weight settle in his stomach.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice firm but careful.

Sheila hesitated, forcing a weak smile. “Felix, I just—I wanted to see you, that’s all.”

He didn’t buy it.

“Bullshit,” he said, shaking his head. “I can tell you’re scared. You texted me saying you needed me. So what is it? Who’s threatening you?”

Sheila’s breath hitched, and for a brief moment, her mask slipped.

Felix caught it.

He took another step closer. “Mom, if you’re in trouble, I can help you.”

She stiffened, her fingers clenching in her coat pockets.

He exhaled sharply, hands flexing at his sides. “I know you don’t trust me,” he admitted. “I know you don’t know me. But I can help. I didn’t come all this way just to walk away if you’re in danger.”

Sheila looked away, her shoulders tight with tension. “Felix—”

“I wasn’t lying when I told you earlier. I work with Batman.”

Her head snapped up.

Felix didn’t hesitate. He reached up, unzipping his jacket and pulling it off, revealing the dark armor underneath. His gloves flexed slightly as he unclipped his mask from his belt, holding it up so she could see.

Sheila stared. She took a step back, her breath coming in short, stunned gasps.

“You’re… you’re Robin?” she whispered, almost in disbelief.

Felix nodded, jaw tight.

Sheila let out a hollow laugh, pressing a hand to her forehead. “God. That’s—of course. Of course you are.”

Felix took a slow step forward, his voice quieter now. “Whatever you’re afraid of, I can handle it. You just have to tell me.”

Sheila exhaled shakily, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. For a moment, it looked like she might say something. Then, suddenly—

A low, delighted laugh echoed through the warehouse.

Felix’s entire body locked up.

The sound was unmistakable.

A slow, sickly sweet drawl filled the air, dripping with amusement.

“Well, isn’t this touching?”

Felix’s stomach dropped.

No.

No, no, no—

He turned sharply, heart slamming against his ribs.

A figure emerged from the darkness, stepping into the dim overhead light.

Joker

He was grinning, his painted face stretched wide with delight, his green hair slicked back, his tailored purple suit pristine despite the grime of the warehouse. In one hand, he casually twirled a crowbar, his gloved fingers spinning the metal with ease.

Felix’s breath hitched. His mind went blank for a split second, instincts screaming at him to move.

He shifted, planting his feet, reaching for the baton at his side.

But then—

His mother.

Felix’s eyes darted toward Sheila, panic clawing at his chest.

“Mom, get behind me,” he ordered, voice sharp.

She didn’t move.

Felix’s stomach twisted.

His mother wasn’t running. She wasn’t scared.

Sheila exhaled softly. “Felix.”

Something in her voice made his blood run cold. Slowly, hesitantly, he turned back toward her.

Her expression had changed. It was no longer uncertain, no longer afraid. It was resigned. And then—he knew.

Felix felt his breath leave him.

“No,” he whispered, his voice shaking.

Joker laughed, clapping his hands together. “Oh, this is just too good! The little stray walked right into the trap!”

Felix’s hands shook. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body trembling.

“Mom,” he rasped, throat tight, begging. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

She looked away. Felix felt sick. His whole body ached with the realization, the betrayal sinking into his bones like ice water.

His own mother had set him up.

His vision blurred at the edges, panic clawing at his chest as he turned toward Joker, his body locking into a defensive stance. He could still fight. He could get out of this.

He had to.

But before he could even react, something slammed into the back of his head.

Pain exploded through his skull. The world tilted violently, his knees buckling as he hit the cold concrete floor. His ears rang, his vision swimming with bursts of color as he gasped for breath. His fingers twitched uselessly, his limbs sluggish, his body already betraying him.

Above him, Joker let out a delighted giggle.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Felix tried to push himself up, tried to force his body to move. But then another sharp blow cracked against his ribs, knocking the breath from his lungs. His vision flickered.

Joker crouched beside him, tapping the crowbar against the ground with an almost lazy rhythm.

“You know, I’ve been dying to get my hands on one of you little brats,” he mused, grinning widely. “And look at that, gift-wrapped and delivered straight to me.”

Felix couldn’t even respond. The world was already going dark.

The last thing he saw before the darkness overtook him was Joker’s painted grin.

-

The moment the team stormed into the building, Chan knew.

The air was stoo still. The shadows too deep. The space was wrong.

It was empty.

Joker wasn’t here.

Chan felt his stomach drop. They had spent precious time chasing a lead that had already gone cold. His mind raced as he moved through the dimly lit interior, his eyes scanning for any sign of movement, any hint of where Joker had gone next.

But then, he saw it.

A single playing card lay on the ground near an old wooden crate. The edges were slightly worn, a faint smudge of red staining the glossy surface.

Chan’s blood ran cold.

Slowly, carefully, he stepped forward and crouched, picking it up between his fingers.

A Joker card.

But it wasn’t just any Joker card. It had something scrawled on it, written in erratic, looping letters.

Too bad you missed me! But don’t worry—I’ve got someone to keep me company. <3

Chan’s heart stopped.

No.

No, no no—

His hands shook. His breathing grew uneven. His vision blurred as his mind screamed at him.

Felix.

“Batman?” Minho’s voice was sharp, concerned, but Chan couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.

Then, in a flash, he was moving, shoving the card into his belt and sprinting back toward the exit.

The others ran after him.

“What the hell is going on?” Hyunjin demanded, breathless as they reached the jet.

Chan didn’t answer, the door opening to an empty jet. Just like he had fear. His hands flew to the controls of the Batcomputer embedded in the jet, fingers shaking as he pulled up Felix’s tracker.

The second the screen loaded, his stomach plummeted. Felix’s location was flashing. And it was at the same damn address he had seen earlier on Felix’s phone.

Chan’s entire body locked up, his grip tightening on the edge of the console. His breath came in sharp, shallow gasps, his chest constricting.

No.

He should’ve never let Felix stay behind.

He should’ve known Felix wouldn’t just sit still.

His own instincts had told him not to let him go. And now— Now he was gone.

"Shit,” Changbin swore, peering over his shoulder. “That’s across the damn city.”

Minho’s expression darkened. “Then what the hell are we waiting for? We fly.”

‘No.” Chan’s voice was like steel, cutting through the panic in his chest.

Minho turned to him, eyes narrowing. “No?”

“Joker will hear us coming,” Chan snapped, his mind already racing through the alternatives. “We take the bikes. We go in quiet.”

Seungmin nodded sharply. “Stealth approach. We get in before he knows we’re there.”

Minho clenched his jaw but didn’t argue.

Chan’s fingers flew over the computer, sending Felix’s location to the built-in GPS on their bikes. His pulse was erratic, his vision blurring at the edges as the thought screamed through his head over and over again.

Please. Please don’t be too late.

He turned toward the others.

“Move.”

They didn’t hesitate.

One by one, they mounted the sleek, black bikes stored in the jet’s cargo hold. The engine purred to life, and Chan barely waited before tearing out of the jet, his focus locked on one thing and one thing only—

Felix.

The city blurred around them as they sped through the desolate streets, the cold wind biting at Chan’s face. His heart slammed against his ribs, his breath coming in sharp, controlled bursts as he leaned forward, pushing the bike to its limits.

He couldn’t think about what Joker might be doing to Felix. He couldn’t let his mind go there. Because if he did—he wouldn’t be able to get it together.

His grip tightened on the handlebars, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

“Hold on Felix,” he whispered under his breath.

He pressed the throttle harder, the roar of the engine lost in the cold Moscow night.

I’m coming.

-

Pain.

It was all-consuming.

It had become his entire existence.

Felix barely had the strength to lift his head. His vision swam, his ears rang, and every breath sent white-hot agony searing through his ribs. The floor beneath him was cold and slick with his own blood, a deep crimson staining the crackled concrete.

His hands were cuffed in front of him, metal biting into his wrists. His feet were bound together, rendering him immobile. His body ached in ways he hadn’t known were possible.

And in front of him, smiling so damn wide, was the Joker.

“Oh, you’re still awake! That’s good! It’s no fun if you check out too early.”

The crowbar twirled in his gloved hand, the dim light catching against the dented metal.

Felix tried to swallow, but his mouth was filled with the metallic taste of blood.

Sheila stood to the side, cigarette perched between her fingers, her expression unreadable. Every so often, at a particularly hard hit, she would look away, her jaw tightening.

But she never stopped him.

Felix’s chest clenched, though whether from heartbreak or the broken ribs, he didn’t know.

Joker crouched down, tilting his head as he observed him like a scientist studying a bug beneath a magnifying glass. “You know, I have to say—of all the little strays, you might be my favorite so far.”

Felix let out a wet, wheezing cough.

Joker grinned.

“You’re a fighter, aren’t you?” He lifted the crowbar, tapping it lightly against Felix’s bruised cheek. “But, see, that’s the thing—I love breaking fighters.”

Felix barely had the strength to glare.

Joker let out a delighted chuckle, straightening up. “Alright, kiddo. Let’s play a little game.”

Felic braced himself. The crowbar swung.

A sharp crack filled the air as Joker slammed the metal into Felix’s ribs.

Felix choked on a scream, his entire body jerking from the impact. His vision exploded with white, his breathing coming in ragged, desperate gasps.

“Oh-ho, that was a good one!” Joker cackled. “Okay, okay—let’s try something different.”

Another swing. This time—

Joker backhanded him across the face. Felix’s head snapped to the side, blood splattering against the floor. His ears rang, the taste of copper thick on his tongue.

Joker sighed, resting the crowbar against his shoulder. “Alright, kid, I gotta know. What hurts more—”

He slammed the crowbar forehand against Felix’s stomach, sending him reeling.

“—A?”

Felix gasped, his body spasming from the pain.

Joker grinned, then swung backhanded into his ribs again.

“—or B?”

Felix didn’t answer. Couldn’t. He was barely conscious, his mind drifting somewhere between agony and oblivion.

Joker pouted. “Aww, don’t pass out on me yet! We’re just getting to the good part.”

Felix coughed, blood spilling from his lips.

Joker laughed.

Then, suddenly, the crowbar clattered to the ground with a metallic clang.

Felix barely registered the sound, his body limp against the floor. His mind was hazy, distant, but he thought he heard Sheila let out a sharp breath, like she was barely holding something in.

He forced his swollen eyes open just in time to see Joker tying her to a pole. Felix’s battered body tensed.

His mother struggled weakly, but Joker simply hummed, tying the knots with practiced ease. “Now, now, don’t squirm, sweetheart,” he crooned. “We wouldn’t want you missing the show.”

Felix tried to shift, to do something, but his body refused to move.

Joker strolled back toward him, whistling a little tune before delivering a casual kick to Felix’s ribs.

Felix let out a strangled noise, his already broken bones grinding against each other.

“Welp, this has been fun,” Joker sighed dramatically, stretching his arms above his head. “But I’ve got places to be! Heroes to terrorize! You know how it is.”

Felix barely managed to lift his head, forcing out a ragged, pained breath. Joker grinned at him.

“Oh, and tell the boys I said hi, would ya?”

Then, with a flourish, he spun on his heel and sauntered toward the exit. The heavy door slammed shut behind him. And then—

Silence.

Felix laid there for a moment, his breath coming in uneven gasps. His entire body screamed in pain, his limbs heavy, his mind slow.

But instincts were a funny thing, they kept you alive. Somehow, through the haze of agony, his brain screamed at him to move. To get up. To get out.

With a strangled groan, he forced himself to roll onto his side. His head swam, his vision blackening at the edges, but he moved.

His body burned as he dragged himself forward, his arms trembling under the strain. His fingers scraped against the rough concrete, his breaths wet and uneven, but he kept going.

One inch at a time.

He reached Sheila, barely holding himself upright as he struggled with the ropes binding her hands. His fingers were slick with blood, masking the task nearly impossible.

“Mom,” he croaked, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Help me.”

She stared at him.

Felix clenched his teeth, his whole body shaking.

”Please,” he rasped.

The moment the last rope fell away, she bolted.

Felix’s stomach plummeted.

He watched, dazed and horrified, as Sheila ran for the door without even looking at him.

But it didn’t budge.

Sheila cursed, slamming her fists against the metal.

Felix barely managed to turn himself over, dragging his broken body toward the other exit. He knew Joker wouldn’t leave a way out. He knew. But he had to try.

Every inch felt like a lifetime.

When he reached the door, his bloodied fingers grasped at the handle, pulling weakly.

It didn’t move.

Felix let out a weak, shuddering breath, collapsing back against the cold surface. His head lolled against the door, his body barely able to keep itself upright.

Think, he told himself. Catalog the injuries.

That was what Chan had taught him.

His ribs were definitely broken. His face was swollen, his lip split open, blood dripping from a cut near his temple. His right wrist felt off, possibly fractured. His entire body was one massive bruise.

But none of it mattered.

Because then—

He heard it.

A soft, rhythmic beep.

His gaze dragged sluggishly toward the sound.

His heart dropped.

Dynamite. A lot of it. And the countdown timer—

Felix’s chest tightened.

10 seconds.

His battered body refused to move. His mind screamed at him to run, but there was nowhere to go.

Felix let out a slow, shuddering exhale. A small, bitter smile twitched at his lips as he leaned his head back against the door, his eyes fluttering shut.

His last thoughts weren’t of pain. Weren’t of fear.

They were of Chan. Of how much he loved him. Of how he wished he had told him.

The countdown hit zero.

Light.

Sound.

Heat.

And then—

Nothing.

-

The night air was frigid, sharp against Chan’s skin as he leaned forward, gripping the bike handles so tightly his knuckles ached. The roar of the engines surrounded him, but it all felt distant, muted by the frantic pounding of his heart.

Felix’s location blinked on the GPS; leading them straight to the abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city.

Chan’s mind refused to stop playing out the worst-case scenarios, flashing images of Felix—hurt, bleeding, alone. He couldn’t panic. He couldn’t. He had to get to him first.

The warehouse came into view in the distance, its rusted exterior barely standing against the wind. Chan gritted his teeth, pushing the bike to its absolute limit, willing it to go faster.

His chest constricted, breath coming in sharp gasps as they tore up the hill leading toward it.

Then—

An ear-splitting boom shook the earth.

A massive fireball erupted from the warehouse, lighting up the night sky in a blinding inferno. The force of the explosion sent shockwaves ripping through the air, the heat licking at Chan’s skin even from a distance.

The blast hit him like a wrecking ball.

He barely had time to react before the shockwave sent his bike skidding out from under him. His body was airborne for half a second—then slammed hard against the ground, rolling across dirt and debris before coming to a shuddering stop.

Everything was spinning. His ears rang. His vision swam.

But none of it mattered.

”FELIX!”

He forced himself up, his body protesting with sharp, stabbing pain as he stumbled forward.

The warehouse—what was left of it—was a collapsing inferno, pieces of burning debris raining down, thick smoke billowing into the sky. His lungs burned as he sprinted toward the wreckage, ignoring the way his legs threatened to give out beneath him.

Behind him, the others were scrambling off their bikes, shouting.

“Holy shit—”

“Oh my God—”

Chan barely registered them. His mind was screaming.

His feet hit the rubble, kicking up dust and ash as he moved frantically, desperately searching through the wreckage.

“Felix!” he shouted, his voice raw, breaking. ” Felix, answer me!”

Silence.

He grabbed onto a large chunk of metal, heaving it aside, his hands shaking violently.

“Felix, where are you?!”

There was nothing. No sound. No movement. No Felix.

Chan’s throat tightened, a painful, suffocating choke clawing at his chest.

“No, no no—”

Then—

“Chan.”

Hyunjin’s voice was strained, unsteady. Chan’s head snapped up. Hyunjin was crouched near the far end of the wreckage, his face pale, his hands hovering over a body.

A woman.

Felix’s mother.

Chan forced himself to move, stumbling toward them. The moment he got close enough to see her face, his stomach dropped. She was gone.

Her body was still, lifeless, her expression frozen in something between terror and regret. Chan’s breathing hitched, his heart slamming violently against his ribs as he turned toward Hyunjin.

Hyunjin swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Then, slowly, he shook his head. Chan couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

”NO!”

Changbin’s sudden, gutteral scream shattered the night.

Chan spun just in time to see him heave a massive piece of rubble aside, his body shaking, his breath ragged. And then—

Chan saw him

Felix.

Chan’s knees gave out. He hit the ground, his breath leaving him in a choked sob.

Felix’s body laid motionless in the wreckage, battered, burned, and too still. His suit was torn, his face bruised, dried blood caking his split lip and temple. His blond hair was matted with soot, his chest unmoving.

Chan couldn't process it. Couldn’t accept what he was seeing. His vision blurred. His hands shook violently as he reached out, fingers curling desperately into the fabric of Felix’s suit.

“Felix,” he gasped, voice cracking. “Hey, come on. Come on.”

Seungmin was suddenly there, dropping beside him, hands hovering over Felix’s still form. His breath came in short, desperate gasps as his fingers began to glow, his healing ability sparking faintly against Felix’s skin.

Nothing happened.

The glow flickered.

And then it died out.

“No,” Seungmin whispered, his voice trembling. His hands pressed against Felix’s chest, trying again, the glow returning, but it wasn’t working.

“Why isn’t it working?” Han asked, voice small, desperate.

Seungmin’s breath hitched as his fingers curled into fists.

“I—” His voice broke. “I can’t—-”

The younger boy sobbed, his shoulders shaking violently as the light vanished. Changbin grabbed him, pulling him back, Seungmin’s cries muffled against his chest.

Chan barely heard them.

His ears were ringing, his vision blurred as he gathered Felix into his arms, pulling him close, rocking him slightly like it would somehow keep him warm.

Felix’s head lolled against his shoulder, his body limp, lifeless.

Chan choked on a breath. “No—”

His fingers dug into Felix’s back, his entire body trembling as he sobbed.

”Please,” he begged, his voice cracking. “ Please, baby, wake up.”

Felix didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Didn’t answer.

Chan’s breath left him in a ragged, broken cry, his forehead pressing against Felix’s, his body curling around him like he could somehow shield him from the truth.

Felix was gone.

And Chan’s world shattered.