22 Wildcat #22

Before I could react, the second punch landed, abruptly halted by the Guardian Veil's barrier. As I sprawled on my back, annoyance bubbled within me as I shot a glance at the coach.

'Well, taking a punch to the barrier on my way down wouldn't be as noticeable...' I pondered, contemplating how to salvage the situation.'Maybe I could make it seem like I instinctively threw myself back to avoid getting hit... Though it stings my pride a bit.'

As I prepared to voice my ingenious cover-up plan, the coach's next words caught me off guard. "You don't know how to turn it off, do you?" he quipped, wearing a sly grin.

Let me tell you, if my acting skills hadn't been top-notch, my eyes would have been as wide as saucers. Suppressing my shock, I put on a facade of confusion. "Turn what off...?" I feigned innocence, blinking with exaggerated slowness.

However, the coach saw through my act, shaking his head. "You could have fooled me, kiddo. Even professional sellers couldn't perform such a perfect dive," he remarked, revealing his keen observation. "But I saw you earlier in the alleyway, so I won't be so easily convinced," he assured with a knowing smile.

As I processed his words, two notifications appeared in my vision.

[Your relationship with (???) has shifted from (Curious) to (Impressed)]

[You have been rewarded 150 points]

'What rotten luck!' I couldn't help but curse inwardly. Out of all people, why did it have to be the same guy who saw me in the alley, turned out to be a coach in the gym I wanted to enroll in, and, on top of that, a DC character?

No, this can't be a coincidence. I need to figure out more about this guy. He was a boxer, but that's all I knew so far.

"And I suppose it was all a strange coincidence?" I asked, narrowing my eyes suspiciously.

"A coincidence? Hell no, kiddo. You think this is a comic book or something?" the coach replied with a chuckle. "The truth of the matter is that a friend of mine asked me to keep an eye on you..." He added extending his hand toward me.

I glanced at his hand, then back at him. "So, you're telling me you've been spying on me on behalf of a friend? What kind of shady business is this?" I quipped, reluctantly taking his hand and getting up.

The coach laughed heartily. "Easy there, tiger. No need for conspiracy theories. My buddy just wanted to make sure you weren't some troublemaker up to no good..."

So, a friend wanted him to keep an eye on me, a guy who'd only been in this world for a couple of days? Now who on earth would be so paranoid? Stupid question, Who else but Batman? The Dark Knight, and Gotham's own paranoia guru.

'So, this guy is a boxer, who is also somehow connected to Batman...' I mulled over, wracking my brain, trying to think of characters that fit this peculiar profile. 'Only one name pops up, but if it's him, he should be running this gym, not just coaching...' I deduced.

Time to play detective, or, you know, just wing it.

I shot a bemused look at the coach. "And I suppose this is the part where you tell me you're secretly the gym owner and have been pulling my leg..." I quipped, tossing my metaphorical hat into the ring.

To my surprise, the coach flashed a grin. "More or less. Guilty as charged," He admitted, offering his hand for another round of shaking. "Name's Ted Grant," he added.

I inwardly sighed. 'Classic Wildcat move...' I thought, mustering up a wry smile. Ted Grant, aka Wildcat, Justice Society member and the man who threw punches before and took the no-nonsense, fist-first approach to heroics before Batman made it cool.

Unlike Batman, Ted Grant decided to take on the unofficial role of training up-and-coming heroes rather than obsessing over the so-called mission. He even taught Batman at some point.

I shook Ted's hand, deciding it was time to ditch the theatrical act and get real. "I guess skulking in the shadows and staging a surprise brawl in the boxing ring is one unique way to vet someone," I quipped, arching an eyebrow as I shot Ted a look.

"But you do realize that by laying it all out for me, you've pretty much made your job that much more difficult..." I pointed out.

Ted just chuckled, his laughter ringing through the gym. "Hiding in the shadows is more that guy's MO than mine," he explained, waving a dismissive hand. "Plus, my buddy already knew my playbook," he added, shooting me a meaningful grin.

I furrowed my brow in confusion. Ted's rationale made sense, but why in the world would Batman ask Wildcat to keep tabs on me? He definitely wasn't dumb enough to assume Wildcat would stick to the shadows and watch me from afar like a creep.

Struggling to come up with an answer, I turned to Ted, seeking some clarification. "So, what's the hell does this buddy of yours want anyway?" I questioned.

Ted threw a nonchalant shrug my way. "Who can decipher the inner workings of that guy's mind?" he remarked. "One thing's for sure, though – he might seem gruff and anti-social, but he's not all that bad once you get past the broody exterior, so I'm sure you don't need to worry..."

To be perfectly honest, I wasn't thrilled about getting on Batman's radar. Ted's words, though accurate, didn't exactly brighten my day. Broody, paranoid, and a bit of an asshole – that's Batman for you.

Yet, considering the situation, he wouldn't go out of his way to make my life more complicated unless I gave him a reason to, which, as far as I knew, I hadn't. I could dwell on it but now wasn't the moment.

"Well, this has been an enlightening experience," I said with a sigh, shaking my head. "But I do have to get going." I turned toward the side of the ring, intending to make my exit.

Just as I was about to slip through the ropes, Ted's voice halted me in my tracks. "Wait up, kiddo," he called out. I paused, turning to him with a questioning look.

"You still want to sign up for training, don't you?" he asked a hint of anticipation in his eyes.

I took a brief moment to ponder before nodding. Despite my reservations about Batman meddling in my business, the training was a necessity. Plus, Wildcat had trained his fair share of heroes, and through him, I could gain access to some people I wouldn't meet otherwise.

After all, I still needed to troll the hell out of people and farm them for points. Priorities, you know?

"Good, then strap in for the ride," Ted declared with a grin, bounding off the ring like he owned the place. He gestured grandly for me to follow his lead.

"Just so you're mentally prepared, I won't be throwing any softballs. It's gonna be hell, and then some," he warned, a mischievous chuckle escaping his lips.'

I just shot him a nonchalant smile and shrugged, channeling my inner zen. "Sounds peachy," I quipped, as if signing up for a torture session was just another item on my daily agenda.

In my past life, I'd practically been a corporate gladiator, navigating the endless maze of office routine for ten hours a day like it was nothing. So, a bit of physical exertion? Child's play.

...

Livewire slouched on the uncomfortable prison bunk, her metallic-clad fingers drumming an impatient rhythm against the cold, unforgiving surface.

The crackling energy that usually danced around her had been replaced by the dull, sterile hum of the prison's dampening field. It was enough to make any electric villain ponder the irony of life choices.

"Where is that know-it-all shit stain when you need him?" she muttered to herself, shooting an accusatory glare at the blank walls.

Impatient as she was, Livewire had expected a get-out-of-jail-free card by now, a promise Micah had made in exchange for her shocking talents during that Metropolis fiasco, despite it happening only a few days ago.

As she waited, her frustration grew, and her monologue to the silent walls transformed into a colorful symphony of curses, each word more inventive than the last. "If That bastard double-crosses me, I'll turn his face into a disco light show!"

The distant clank of footsteps echoed through the corridor, prompting Livewire to jump to her feet. "About time!" she called out, assuming it was finally time for her to regain her freedom.

To her dismay, it wasn't Micah but a stern-faced guard heading toward her cell. "Leslie Willis, you have a visitor..."

...

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