"You've been following me for weeks," I growled, my voice dropping to a dangerous level, "What the hell do you want?"

I listened intently, the world around me fading into the background. The wind whispering through the trees, the creaking of a nearby swing set, and even the soft humming of the streetlamps all merged into a symphony of sound, each note distinct and clear.

Then, I heard it – a quick intake of breath, the snapping of a twig, and the faint sound of footsteps growing faster and faster.

The man was bolting.

I swore under my breath, feeling a surge of adrenaline. He may have thought he could outrun me.

I take off after him, my feet pounding the pavement, sending a jolt of energy up my legs. I try to keep my movements as natural as possible, not wanting to give myself away to the very man who has been tailing me. I'm not about to reveal my hand, not after coming this far.

As I run, I hear the sound of his footsteps growing fainter, and my heart sinks. I can't let him escape. I put on a small burst of speed to close the distance between us. The rustling of leaves underfoot intensifies, and I know I'm getting closer. I can hear his heartbeat, pounding in his chest.

My eyes flicker over the landscape, scanning the shadows and foliage. Every detail of the darkened streets is laid out before me in crystal-clear clarity.

Finally I spot him, a blur of motion in the night.

Bingo.

As I sprint around the bend, my eyes immediately lock onto the dark silhouette of the man, moving swiftly down the deserted street. His feet skid against the pavement, causing him to stumble and collapse against the nearest wall. It's a jagged brick structure, with vines snaking up its surface. I see the man's footsteps falter, and I know I have him cornered. His back is pressed against the rough brick wall, and his chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath.

As I approach, the man's hand darts to his belt, quickly retrieving a small object. Then, I hear the whirring sound of a grappling hook being fired, followed by a rush of air as it flies through the night sky.

My eyes narrow as I realize what's happening. This man isn't just any ordinary thug. He's skilled and experienced. The hook latches onto the warehouse's rooftop and yanks the man off his feet. I charge forward, and catch up to him just before he reaches the top of the wall. I grab his ankle, pulling him down towards me.

Despite the impact, he hits the pavement with practiced ease, landing on his feet with an unexpected fluidity. He barely has time to react before my body slams into his with calculated force, pinning him against the wall, my arms pressing his chest against the rough brick.

My heart hammers against my ribcage, both from the chase and from the realization that I might finally be getting answers. The man struggles against me, but my grip is unbreakable. I make it seem like it's taking all my effort to hold him in place, pretending to pant as if I too am out of breath. He was strong, but I was stronger, and I knew I had him now.

With his arms trapped in place, he starts thrashing his legs wildly, a desperate attempt to break free from my hold. I brace myself as he suddenly bucks his hips, throwing all his weight into his lower body as he twists and turns, trying to throw me off balance. Then, he kicks out with all his might, aiming for my stomach. Instinctively, I roll with the impact, shifting my weight to the side. Just enough to avoid suspicion. I allow him to break free for a moment and he lands a few quick jabs, but in one swift motion, I grab his wrist, twisting it behind his back. He groans in pain and I pin him down once again.

He's determined, he tenses and strains against me. I press my forearm against his throat, cutting off his air supply. I stay focused, controlling my strength with care. One false move could be disastrous. His eyes bulge, and he gasps for breath. I slightly loosen my hold, mindful not to let my simmering emotions get the better of me.

As my heart rate begins to slow, I finally take in his appearance. A dark figure stands before me, his armor glinting in the faint moonlight. My eyes widen in shock as I finally recognize the man.

It's him.

The Bat guy.

The one who's all over the news.

I notice the distinct domino mask covering his eyes, and a chill runs down my spine.

He stands stoically, almost unscathed by my hold. His gaze meets mine, and I can feel the weight of his stare bearing down on me with a cold and calculating intensity. This isn't just some random stalker. I can't help but wonder what I did to warrant being tailed by him.

I was finally face to face with the man who had been my tormentor for weeks, and in an instant, memories of the constant surveillance and unrelenting anxiety that he put me through come flooding back. The initial shock quickly turns to anger. It had been a living nightmare, and now here he was. I feel my grip on him tighten.

"What the fuck do you want from me? I spit out through gritted teeth.

I feel the muscles in his arms bulge under my fingers, but I refuse to let go. He tries to squirm free again, twisting his arms in a fluid motion but he might as well have been pushing against a brick wall. I can see the frustration building in his eyes, as he realizes he's not going to escape my grasp. His movements become more frantic, his body writhing like a trapped animal. It's clear he's not used to being at anyone's mercy.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he speaks. His voice is rough and gravelly, "You're a tough one, I'll give you that," he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

He's trying to buy himself some time.

"Cut the crap," I retort, tightening my grip even further. He winces in pain. "You've been following me, and I want to know why."

"I have my reasons," he replies, his expression inscrutable.

I could tell he was taunting me, trying to get a rise out of me. He was playing games, and I was getting impatient.

"Enough with the cryptic bullshit," I snap. Batman's eyes narrow, but he remains unfazed.

It's clear he's not going to give up any answers willingly, and I know I need to take a different approach. With a determined grimace, I lean in closer to his ear, feeling the heat of his breath against my cheek.

"You have five seconds to spit it out, or I'll make you regret ever crossing me" I say, intentionally lowering my voice to a menacing tone, but the words feel foreign in my mouth.

He smirks, almost amused by my threat. "You think you can intimidate me?" He says, "I've faced much worse than you. I'm not someone you can just hold captive and demand answers from."

"I'm not trying to intimidate you," I reply evenly. "The fact remains, you're not leaving until I get answers."

He shakes his head, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. "Fine, if that's how you want to play it." I watch as he leans back, settling into a more comfortable position, "But if you're going to keep holding me like this, we're going to have to come to some kind of agreement, Clark."

Of course he knows my name. The frustration and anger that had been boiling inside me earlier come back with a vengeance. But I force myself to stay calm, to keep my grip on him steady.

A sudden thought occurs to me. I have a rare opportunity to peek through the mask and see who's hiding behind it.

With a subtle shift in my gaze, I activate my x-ray vision, and the mask melts away. The man's face morphs into a blur of bone and muscle, until it comes into sharp focus, revealing his features in intricate detail. His eyes are a piercing blue, like frozen pools of ice that seem to look right through me. His angular jaw is set firmly, his dark hair slicked back with a hint of gray at the temples.

It takes me a moment to place him, but then it clicks. A jolt of recognition shoots through me. I know this person.

Bruce Wayne.

The billionaire philanthropist and owner of Wayne Enterprises.

Helena's father.

I hold the gasp that threatens to escape my lips, trying to maintain my tough exterior. I wonder if she knows about her father's extracurricular activities. Would she have kept this from me? A pang of betrayal tugs at my heart.

"I think we both know that you're not exactly in a position to make demands, Bruce." I give his bicep a tight squeeze to emphasize my point. A twinge of guilt courses through me for threatening him, now knowing who he is.

I notice a hint of surprise behind his domino mask, and I can't help but smirk in satisfaction.

"You peeked," he says, a sly grin on his face. He looks pointedly at my hands holding him. "You're not just some ordinary man, are you?"

All of the air leaves my lungs as I realize what he's implying. My thoughts swirl in a maelstrom of panic. "What are you talking about?" I manage to force out, hoping to conceal the fear that threatens to overwhelm me.

"You know, Clark, it's interesting what those convenience store cameras can pick up." He says, "I have to admit, I was impressed. Not everyone can take a bullet to the chest and walk away unscathed."

His words hit me like a freight train. He saw the footage. He knows everything. How could I have been so careless? My heart pounds so loudly in my chest that I'm sure he can hear it.

Think fast. "You've got some nerve." I manage to say, trying to maintain an air of composure. "You don't know the first thing about me."

"But I know enough." he counters smoothly. "You have to understand that I have a job to do, and part of that job is keeping a close eye on people like you."

I feel the blood rushing to my face, and my hold on him loosens slightly. There is no doubt he knows. Is he going to expose me to the world? The thought sends shivers down my spine. Fear grips me like a vice, making it hard to breathe.

"Like me?" I repeat incredulously. "What the hell does that even mean? I add, hoping to bait him into revealing how much he knows. But deep down, I'm a mess of dread and anxiety.

The Bat remains quiet for a moment, as if considering his words carefully. "It means that you have certain...capacities that most people don't, and that makes you a threat," he finally responds.

"A threat?" My frustration boils over at his arrogance. "You've been spying on me, violating my privacy," I spit out, "And you have the nerve to call me a threat?"

But as I held his unflinching gaze, my anger deflated like a punctured balloon. As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. I was an aberration, a freak of nature. I knew it deep down in my bones… No matter how hard I tried, I'd never be normal.

I swallowed hard.

I couldn't blame him for seeing me as a danger. Because the truth was, I was scared too. Scared of what I might do if I lost control. Scared of hurting someone, of causing destruction on a massive scale.

I released my grip on him slowly, my fingers trembling as they left his arms. I took a step back, giving him space, but my eyes never left his.

"Look," I said, my voice almost breaking, "I never asked for this. What am I supposed to do?" I murmured, almost to myself. The words came out more like a plea than a question.

The Bat's expression softened ever so slightly. Finally, he spoke. "I'll make you a deal," he said, his voice low and measured. "You don't have to do anything alone, I can help you. Teach you control."

I hesitated for a moment, still unsure if I could trust him. But then, I thought about all the times I had been alone, struggling to come to terms with who I was. Maybe, just maybe, I didn't have to be alone anymore.

"Fine," I said through gritted teeth, "But you could have just talked to me. You didn't have to stalk me like some kind of creep."

The Bat nodded once, a small grin on his face, and then turned to leave. "Good," he said over his shoulder. "We begin tomorrow."