I stepped into the front door of my house, my heart pounding in my chest like a war drum. Memories of the break-in clawed their way back into my consciousness. Armed with newfound forensics knowledge, I was on a mission. This time, I'd leave no stone unturned.

The house was quiet, save for the sound of the TV blaring in the living room. As I made my way down the hallway, the muffled voices of the news anchors filled the air. They were in a frenzy over the latest round of vigilante activity, talking about a figure who had become notorious in Gotham.

They spoke of the shadowy figure who operated outside the law, bringing his own brand of justice. His merciless ways had everyone on edge. But their reports of his brutal tactics stirred something within me. A sense of understanding, of connection, as though I too had felt the pull of such power. I felt a familiar tug in my gut, a restlessness that begged for an outlet.

As I approached the living room, the smell of stale smoke and cheap beer hit my nostrils. Jake lounged on the couch, his gaze glued to the TV, the clinking of his beer can on the coffee table punctuating the newscast. He barely registered my presence as I made my way past him. My mother sat in the armchair, her fingers working deftly as she darned a hole in a sock.

"Hey, Mom," I murmured, not wanting to disturb her peaceful activity.

She shot me a quizzical look. "Hi, honey," she replied.

I silently made my way toward my room, and pushed the door shut behind me, cutting off the noise from the living room. I took a deep breath and focused my senses. I scoured every inch of the room, my eyes scanning the walls, the floors, and the ceiling for any sign of a clue.

I wracked my brain, trying to recall everything I had learned in class. I began to search for any signs of forced entry that might give me a lead. My eyes would be able to detect the faintest markings or impressions. But despite my best efforts, I couldn't find a single fingerprint, no trace of the intruder.

Turning to the closet, I discovered little more than slightly disturbed clothing. My patience was wearing thin, and the frustration was mounting with each passing moment. I moved on to the dresser, rifling through the drawers with increasing desperation. But everything seemed to be in order, as if the intruder had been meticulous in covering his tracks. All I could detect was his unbearable scent.

And then I saw it, a faint imprint on the carpet. It was barely visible to the naked eye, but to me, it was a beacon of hope. I dropped to my knees and examined it carefully. I could see every detail. The size, the pattern, the depth—I committed it all to memory. It was a long shot, but it was all I had.

I collapsed onto my bed, the mattress giving a soft sigh under my weight. The day had been a complete mess, and I felt like I was drowning in a sea of anxiety. Questions swirled around my head like a tempest—Who broke in? Why here? Were they lurking nearby, hiding in the shadows, waiting for me to let my guard down? My mind spun out into a never-ending vortex, and I found myself clutching at the sheets, trying to hold on to some semblance of control.

But as I lay there, my heart still thumping from the adrenaline of the discovery, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. I hesitated for a moment, unsure if I wanted to face the outside world. Curiosity won, and I reached for the device. My eyes scanned the notifications, and I froze when I saw the message from Helena.

"Babs and I are hitting up this new bar tonight. The Crow's Nest. You in? ;) "

My fingers hovered over the phone screen. Part of me longed for the distraction of a night out. But the thought of being in a crowded bar made my stomach churn. The memories of the quarry were still fresh in my mind, a haunting reminder of my destructive potential.

Then, another message caught my eye, and my heart skipped a beat.

"Long time no see, we should catch up!" It was from Pete. I paused to catch my breath. It had been months since we'd last spoken, but his message seemed casual, as if no time had passed.

I stared at the text. For years, Pete had been my constant, the one person who truly knew the whole "me" and still chose to stand by my side. I thought back to our high school days, where Pete and I had been inseparable. We were the outcasts, the misfits, who had found solace in each other's company.

But after graduation, our paths diverged. Pete had talked about leaving Gotham behind to pursue his dreams at Met-U. I remember feeling a pang of jealousy, wishing I had the courage to leave too. But I couldn't leave my mother behind, not with Jake still in the picture. So I stayed, and watched as Pete moved on to bigger and better things while I remained stagnant, trapped by my own fear and guilt.

I fired off a response, my fingers a blur on the keyboard.

"Hey Pete, it's been too long! Are you back in town? Want to meet up tonight? We're hitting the Crow's Nest." It was a risk, but I needed his support now more than ever.

Would he still accept me, flaws and all? Would he finally see the monster beneath the surface, or the scared kid who just wanted to fit in? I wondered if our bond remained as unbreakable as it had once been.

But as I hit send, a spark of hope kindled. Maybe he had returned to Gotham looking to reconnect with old friends. Maybe he hadn't forgotten about me, despite our long silence.

I knew I had to take the chance, to face my fears and see if we could pick up where we left off.

The loud music of the club throbbed in my ears as I scanned the crowd, searching for Helena. Then, my eyes landed on Barbara, sitting close to the bar, her fiery locks framing her heart-shaped face.

As I drew closer to the table, my senses were on high alert. Every sound was amplified, every movement heightened. The pounding music felt like it was pulsing through my veins, like a second heartbeat. The flashing lights were dizzying, casting erratic shadows across the room. It was like being trapped in a strobe-lit nightmare.

I knew I had to tread lightly. It had been so long since I had hurt anyone, but the memory of my mother's screams still echoed in my mind. Though I had learned to keep my powers mostly in check around people, the quarry incident had re-ignited the feeling that the curse inside me was a constant threat.

My guard was up, even the slightest touch could mean too much. The bar was packed, and I had to weave my way through the crowd, avoiding elbows and shoulders.

Finally, I reached their table, my pulse pounding in my throat. I mustered a strained smile.

"Hey," I greeted them. "Mind if I join?"

Helena smiled, gesturing to the empty seat beside her. "Of course not. We were just discussing the crime against music happening tonight."

I chuckled, taking a seat next to her. It put me closer to Helena than I'd expected. Her hair carried the sweet scent of cinnamon, and faint freckles dusted her nose. I quickly averted my gaze, not wanting to be caught staring. "Yeah, it's not exactly my jam either" I replied.

Barbara raised an eyebrow, her emerald eyes sparkling with amusement. "So, Clark, what brings you out tonight?"

Caught off guard, I stumbled for a moment. "Well," I began, lowering my voice conspiratorially, "I heard Gotham's elite troublemakers were having a party, and I couldn't resist."

Helena leaned closer, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Troublemaker, huh? We might have to keep an eye on you."

"I promise to behave," I teased, "at least until midnight."

Barbara's laughter rang out. "We'll hold you to that."

The easy banter eased my nerves. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, and I quickly pulled it out to read the message from Pete. He was nearby, looking for us. I stood up, "That's Pete. I'll go grab him, be right back."

Pete was waiting by the entrance, a grin spreading across his face as he spotted me. "Clark!" he shouted, pulling me into a bear hug. "It's been way too long, man."

I laughed, carefully returning the hug. "I know, right? What brings you back to Gotham?"

"Met-U finally finished kicking my ass, so I figured I'd come back to my roots," he replied with a grin.

With Pete in tow, I returned to the table. Barbara's hushed words reached my ears. "Clark's late, but at least he brought eye candy." The comment brought a smirk to my face.

"Ladies, this is my old buddy Pete. Pete, meet Helena and Barbara."

Pete flashed a charismatic smile, taking a seat next to me. "A pleasure, I'm sure. Did I miss anything exciting?"

Barbara shot him an appreciative glance. "Let's just say we're contemplating a musical intervention."

Pete's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Sounds like my kind of night."

We all burst into laughter, and for a moment, the club's chaotic energy felt oddly comforting. It was good to be surrounded by friends, old and new. For the first time in a while, I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be.

We ordered some drinks and settled in for the night. The music shifted, and I found myself nodding my head along to the beat. Helena and Barbara decided to spice things up with a round of shots, clinking glasses with laughter. Pete and I watched as they tossed the shots back, their faces contorting at the strong taste.

I watched them, feeling a sense of longing. I wished I could join in on the fun. But as I took a sip of my drink, the bitter taste barely registering on my tongue, I knew it was futile. Alcohol had never held much sway over me, and I knew that I would never experience that sense of reckless abandon. Even if it did affect me, I knew better than allowing myself to let go of my inhibitions. Not with my powers growing stronger and more unpredictable by the day.

As the night wore on, the drinks started to take effect. Helena and Barbara were more animated, laughing and joking as the music pulsed around us. Pete and I exchanged knowing glances, happy to see them enjoying themselves. We talked for a while, catching up on old times and filling in the gaps of the months we'd spent apart. It was good to see that some things hadn't changed. Pete was still the same old Pete I remembered, and being with him again made me feel like I was back in high school.

As we chatted, the girls excused themselves and made their way to the dancefloor. I watched as they swayed to the music, their bodies moving in perfect sync with the beat. Pete nudged me, a grin spreading across his face.

"Looks like Barbara got herself an admirer," he commented, a hint of jealousy in his voice. His eyes momentarily locked onto a particular guy who couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from the mesmerizing redhead.

I followed his gaze, noting the way Pete's eyes lingered on Barbara. "Yeah, it seems you've got some competition."

Out of nowhere, a guy brushed past me with an unsteady stumble, colliding lightly with my shoulder. My muscles tensed for a split second bracing for the impact. He let out a colorful curse, clutching his shoulder in pain. I flinched, I should have rolled with the movement.

Pete laughed, clapping me on the back. "Relax, man. Let loose a little."

I shook my head, unease settling in my gut. "I can't, Pete. You know that."

He sighed, looking at me with concern in his eyes. "I get it, but that doesn't mean you have to shut yourself off from everything. You can still have fun, Clark."

I nodded, knowing he was right. I tried to focus on our conversation, but my attention kept drifting back to the dancefloor. Out of the blue, Helena and Barbara found themselves trapped in a sea of inebriated dudes who seemed convinced they were auditioning for a dance-off.

From my vantage point, I could see how the girls were rolling their eyes and trying to back away, but the men were becoming more insistent. I knew the girls were no damsels in distress and they could hold their own, but my muscles tensed involuntarily.

The music and laughter in the club became muffled as I focused on the scene. Slurred words, crude remarks, and testosterone-charged threats filled the soundtrack.

"Aww, what's wrong, little miss tough girl? Need a real man to take care of you?" The comment came from a hulking brute with a crooked grin, directed at Helena. His eyes roamed over her figure. My anger simmered. One of these charmers grabbed Barbara by the waist, and I saw her use a wrestling move to wriggle out of his hold.

Then, I heard the gasp that escaped Helena's lips when one of the men groped her. The scene played out like a slow-motion nightmare. My senses picked up every detail, from the way the man's hand lingered on her body to the way Helena's hair whipped around her face as she twisted out of his grasp.

It was like a switch was flipped inside me. A burst of anger surged through me like a tidal wave. I signaled to Pete, and we made our way over to them. I knew I had to keep my head on straight, but it was hard to think with the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

The guys looked like they were one beer away from a bar fight, but Helena and Barbara weren't backing down either. Helena's eyes narrowed as she glared at the man who had grabbed her. "Hands off, creep," she spat. Barbara stepped forward, her fists clenched. "You heard her. Get lost before you regret it," she warned menacingly.

For a moment, the thugs were taken aback by the sudden show of resistance. But then one of them chuckled, a cruel smirk spreading across his face. "Looks like we got ourselves a couple of feral kitties," he drawled, and his buddies joined in with a round of hyena-like laughter.

As we got closer, the group of men turned their attention towards us, sneering and jeering as they sized us up. My jaw clenched so tightly that my teeth felt like they might crack, my face twisting with rage.

Pete went to stand by the girls, and I stepped between them and the rowdy bunch. They hesitated for a moment, but their drunken bravado soon returned, and they started to close in on us. One of them took a step forward, his eyes filled with malice.

I stood my ground, every fiber of my being urging restraint. The guy leered at me, his breath hot and sour on my face. "What's your problem, man? We were just having a little fun."

His defiance glared out from his eyes, but I wasn't about to flinch. "Fun?" I shot back. "Is that what you call it? Harassing two girls who clearly want nothing to do with you?"

The guy's face twisted in fury, and I saw his fingers twitching, ready to strike. I tensed, but then Pete stepped forward.

"Listen, fellas. I reckon it's time you called it a night. You've had too much to drink. Time to go home and sleep it off."

One of the thugs burst into laughter. He was built like a brick wall, a menacing scowl on his face. "Who do you clowns think you are, giving us orders? We're not scared of you, buddy."

Pete's expression hardened, his jaw muscles working as he spoke, "Maybe you should be. We don't want any problems, but we won't stand by while you hassle these girls. So either you can leave now, or we can help you find the exit." Classic Pete, just like in high school, charging into trouble with me as his invincible safety net.

"Help us find the exit? I'd like to see you try, tough guy." I sighed internally, some things never changed.

The man shoved Pete, and suddenly, a fist came flying towards his face. Instinct kicked in, and my hand shot out, intercepting the punch inches from Pete's jaw. My palm met the brute's knuckles with a meaty thud. I could feel the force behind the strike, and I knew it could have caused some serious damage.

I fought the urge to crush his hand into a pulp, anger surging through me like an electric jolt. These goons had no clue what they were messing with.

My narrowed gaze drilled into his eyes, a silent warning. But it was lost on him. Rage and booze had taken hold and he was too far gone.

He tried to pull his fist away, but I held on tight. He was no match for me. I could see the veins bulging on his forehead. I played along, putting on a show of struggling, just enough to make it look believable. I had the strength to send him flying across the dancefloor, but I had to dial it back. It was imperative. I sure as hell didn't want my fist slicing through him like a hot knife through butter.

Just as I thought it couldn't get any worse, his friend launched himself at me. I sidestepped, watching him fly past.

The man swang again and I dodged, feigning a stumble to make it seem like he'd caught me off guard. Then I delivered a calculated strike to his midsection, enough to knock the wind out of him without pulverizing his insides. He doubled over, groaning and clutching his stomach.

Meanwhile, Pete was in his element, his brawling skills from our high school days hadn't rusted a bit. He landed a solid hook on one guy, sending him staggering into a table of drinks that exploded in a cacophony of shattered glass and splashing booze.

I knew I should've steered clear of this bar with my erratic powers. But regrets would have to wait. Now anger was at the wheel, and I was just along for the ride.

As I sent one of them crashing to the floor with calculated force, my eyes darted across the scene. Most of the club's patrons were oblivious, lost in their own dance-induced trance, but a few near us had stopped to watch the unexpected spectacle.

I couldn't let it look like it was a walk in the park. So, when the next drunk guy swung at me, I did my best imitation of a guy taking a hit, rolling with the punch. I even threw in an Oscar-worthy groan, channeling my inner wounded bear, as his fist just about grazed my chin.

On my left, one of the thugs wound up for a sucker punch aimed at Pete's unsuspecting face. Time to play guardian angel. I subtly shifted my stance, giving that punch a little nudge with my elbow. Pete's would-be attacker missed his mark, stumbling forward, his fist whizzing harmlessly past Pete.

That's when the club's security swarmed in, bouncers who could give a rhinoceros a run for its money. They waded into the brawl, grabbing flailing limbs and hairy knuckles, and we became part of their human parade toward the exit. We were ejected onto the sidewalk, the door slamming behind us.

The pack of drunk gorillas must've suddenly remembered they had important business elsewhere. They scattered in different directions, leaving behind a trail of muttered curses and bruised egos.

Pride swelled in my chest. I had managed to defend my friends without ending any lives.

Pete, still catching his breath, gave me a good pat on the back. "Thanks, man," he wheezed out. "You saved my ass back there."

I shrugged it off, trying to act casual. "Eh, no biggie," I replied, though the words rang hollow even in my own ears. It was a massive deal, and I knew it. Truth was, I'd let my temper get the best of me, dangerously close to revealing my hidden monstrosity. I'd never let my emotions dictate my actions like this before in public. This wasn't how I usually operated.

I looked over at Helena, hoping that my little display hadn't scared her off. But she just smiled at me, her eyes sparkling in the dim light.

"Wow, Clark," she said. "I never would have guessed that you had that in you."

I waved it away, attempting to play it cool. "Eh, just a reaction, you know? Those jerks had it coming," I muttered.

As we walked down the street, I couldn't shake the unease that had settled in my gut. What if Helena saw through my flimsy act?

Before she could say anything else, Barbara piped up. "Yeah, no kidding. What the hell was that all about? she asked. Her piercing gaze bore into me, making me hold my breath.

But Pete jumped to my rescue. "Yeah, just some assholes causing trouble," he said, deflecting Barbara's attention from me.

Finally, we arrived at our destination: a rundown dive bar on the outskirts of town. Its neon sign flickered, spelling out "The Lucky Break," in garish green letters. Despite the peeling paint and the floor that seemed to cling to your shoes, there was a gritty charm about the place.

As soon as we stepped inside, the warm, smoky air enveloped us, and the smell of beer, fried food hit our nostrils. The jukebox blared out classic rock tunes, and the murmur of conversation filled the air.

We made our way to a secluded booth in the back, away from the rowdy crowd, and ordered a round of drinks.

I slumped back into my seat, trying to shake off the adrenaline rush that was still coursing through my veins. My body seemed wired, muscles coiled and primed for action. Thoughts of the fight swirled in my mind, replaying like a broken record. I scrutinized every moment, every move, dissecting it for any signs of abnormality, of excessive strength that may have betrayed my secret.

One small mistake, and things could have gone horribly wrong. Maybe I should have kept my cool, tried to talk them down. The tension in my temples throbbed as if to chastise me for not considering a less risky path. I kneaded them gently, hoping to dispel the tension building there.

I sighed, trying to push the thoughts to the back of my mind and enjoy the company of my friends. After all, that's what I had risked everything for.