[6]

Nuru crouched behind a toppled crate, his breath hitching as he stared at the writhing forms scattered across the warehouse floor. The Red Knives hadn't stood a chance. The hooded man had moved through them like a force of nature—no wasted movement, no hesitation. It had been terrifying to watch, and Nuru wasn't sure what unsettled him more: the ease with which the stranger had dismantled them or the realization that this city might be full of people just as dangerous.

He clenched his fists to still the shaking in his hands. Focus, he told himself. The stranger was gone, and the gang was too busy groaning in pain to notice anything else. This was his chance. He couldn't waste it.

Pulling his hood low over his face, Nuru slipped into the open space, his feet moving carefully over the uneven concrete. The warehouse was littered with crates and makeshift tables, but his eyes stayed fixed on the bodies of the gang members. None of them were standing, but that didn't mean they were all out for the count. He had to be careful.

The first man he passed was clutching his side, his breath coming in short, wheezing gasps. Nuru gave him a wide berth, stepping quickly toward the crates stacked near the back wall. But just as he reached another fallen figure, a sharp sound stopped him in his tracks—a faint vibration, followed by the tinny buzz of a ringtone.

Nuru froze, his gaze snapping to the source of the sound. The man on the ground was older, with a grizzled face partially hidden beneath a knit cap. His gloved hand clutched a cracked cell phone, the screen lighting up with an incoming call. Nuru's breath caught when he saw the caller ID: BOSS—written in all caps.

The vibration continued, the sound oddly loud in the otherwise quiet warehouse. Nuru hesitated, his mind racing. Whoever was calling might know what the Red Knives were doing here—or worse, might already be on their way. The smart thing to do would be to walk away, grab what he needed, and disappear before anything else happened.

But Nuru wasn't feeling smart. He was feeling curious. And that curiosity, as always, was almost impossible to ignore.

He crouched beside the man, his movements slow and deliberate. The gangster groaned softly, his head lolling to one side, but he didn't seem conscious enough to notice as Nuru gently pried the phone from his loosened grip. The screen vibrated again, the name BOSS still flashing insistently.

Nuru swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his chest. He pressed the green button and quickly toggled the phone to speaker, holding it just far enough away that he could listen without getting too close.

For a moment, there was only static.

Then a voice crackled through, sharp and impatient. "What the hell's taking so long?"

Nuru didn't respond, his mouth suddenly dry. He glanced down at the gangster, who twitched slightly but didn't wake.

The voice on the other end grew harsher. "I said, what the hell is taking so long? Do you idiots think I have time for this?"

Nuru cleared his throat, forcing himself to speak. He knew his voice didn't sound like it usually did due to it being somewhat hoarse. "Uh... sorry. There was a problem."

The words felt clumsy in his mouth, but he tried to keep his tone steady. If the caller noticed anything strange, they didn't show it.

"A problem?" the voice repeated, dripping with irritation. "Don't tell me you've screwed this up. Do you have the shipment or not?"

Nuru hesitated, glancing toward the crates piled near the center of the room. His eyes flicked over the labels, most of which were smudged or missing entirely.

"Yeah," he said finally, hoping the lie didn't sound as shaky as he felt. "We've got it. Just... need some time to load it all up."

There was a pause, followed by a low chuckle. "You must think I'm stupid."

Nuru's stomach dropped.

"You're stalling," the voice continued, now cold and dangerous. "And that means something's gone wrong. Don't think I won't find out."

Nuru scrambled for something to say, but before he could respond, the voice barked out a final command. "Stay there. I'm sending someone to clean this up. And if you're lying to me..."

The call ended abruptly, the screen going dark.

Nuru let out a shaky breath, his mind reeling. Whoever the leader was, they weren't just annoyed—they were dangerous. And now someone was on their way to 'clean up'. He had no idea what that meant, but he didn't want to be here when they arrived.

He shoved the phone into his pocket and turned toward the crates. The stranger had cleared the way for him, but time was running out. He grabbed the nearest box and pried it open, wincing as the wood creaked loudly. Inside were mostly just bags of dried food—rice, beans, and a few cans of something unlabeled.

That... huh?

Either way, while it wasn't much, he would make it work like always. It would be enough to keep him alive for another couple weeks as well if he rationed it, but it might not have to come to that if he was able to find more. With someone potentially on the way at this point, however, he was too afraid of wasting anymore precious time.

Can't say he wasn't disappointed, though. Hopefully, the next time he finds himself in a situation like this, the loot will be a bit more interesting.

Nuru grabbed as much as he could carry from the box he opened, shoving the goods into a backpack with trembling hands. He paused just long enough to glance back at the gangsters still sprawled on the floor, their groans growing fainter.

For a moment, he considered leaving the phone behind. Whoever came next would find it eventually, and it wasn't like he needed the trouble that came with it.

But then his fingers brushed against the notebook tucked inside his jacket. The phone wasn't just trouble—it was an opportunity. A thread he could pull, unraveling the mystery of who these people were and why they were here.

The weight of the food pressed against his back as he slipped into the night, the phone clutched tightly in his hand. His breath came in short bursts, his legs burning as he ran through a multitude of alleyways, the warehouse fading into the distance behind him. That area was simply too busy with criminal activity for him to call it a base.

When he finally stopped, it was near the edge of the Bowery, where the industrial sprawl gave way to crumbling apartment blocks. He ducked into a small abandoned diner, the shattered windows covered with boards and graffiti. It wasn't much, but it was shelter.

Nuru sank to the floor, his back against the wall as he dumped the contents of his bag onto the cracked tiles. The food looked like a feast compared to what he'd been living on, and for a brief moment, relief swept through him.

Then his gaze fell on the phone.

Flipping it over in his hands, Nuru stared at the cracked screen. He didn't know who this "boss" was, but they weren't just some petty criminal. The way they spoke, the weight behind their words—it felt bigger, more dangerous.

He thought about the Red Knives, about how easily they'd been taken down by the hooded stranger. They weren't real players, just pawns. Which meant their boss was still out there, pulling the strings.

Nuru's fingers itched toward the notebook. He could write something—test the waters, see if he could push this story a little further. But something held him back. The phone already felt like a loaded gun, one he barely knew how to aim.

Instead, he tucked it into his jacket and turned his attention back to the food. Tomorrow, he'd figure out his next move. Tonight, he'd survive.

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For the most part, I'm using the Young Justice timeline to help myself out with organizing an order of events, basically. Now, that's not the only thing I'm utilizing, nor am I implying that this universe is set within YJ, but considering that the timeline is rather simple, all things considered, I couldn't help but use it to a certain degree. So, in this universe's timeline, Superman made his debut in 1998, Batman in 1999, blah, blah, blah. For the most part, anyway. Just because I'm using the YJ timeline doesn't mean that all characters will have the same history. So, try to keep that in mind within the near-future.

At this point, we're essentially beginning sometime during the year 2001, and, while I'm kind of basically making a lot of this up as I go, I'm just going to say that, since there's a brutal winter season going on in Gotham City (like usual, it seems) right now, the time is somewhere between November and December. I'm leaning more to around the end of the former, as that would give me a bit more time to set up Nuru's eventual introduction to Bruce Wayne and his totally-normal life as the richest dude around town.