Artemis tightened her grip on her bow, her muscles coiled like a spring. Slowly, she stepped backward, her boots scraping against the cracked pavement.

Samuel hovered in place, the faint crackle of electricity beneath his feet the only sound in the empty alley. His expression remained unreadable, detached—as if he were observing something distant and unimportant.

Her eyes flicked to the open space behind her. Could she make it?

Almost as if reading her mind—

[Samuel used Mean Look!]

A flickering, holographic eye materialized behind him, its pupil dark and unwavering.

Artemis felt it immediately.

Something was off.

She clenched her teeth, trying to move her legs—only to realize she couldn't.

Her escape route was gone.

'So this was why Jade couldn't escape with her smoke bomb...?'

Her free hand instinctively went for her grappling hook, but she stopped herself. It was pointless. She knew it was pointless. Whatever this was—it made running impossible.

Slowly, she lowered the hook, her fingers twitching against the rope.

Samuel watched her.

Then—he spoke first.

"Shoot, Crock."

The words cut through the silence, calm and deliberate.

Artemis's fingers tightened around the bowstring. "...What?"

Samuel's gaze remained steady. "Shoot me. If you want to."

Artemis kept the arrow drawn, her pulse pounding in her ears. Her breath was steady, but her hands—her hands weren't.

Samuel didn't move. He simply hovered, staring down at her with that same unblinking, distant gaze.

"You can let go of the string and talk," he said. "Or you can shoot."

His voice was as calm as ever, like he was discussing the weather.

"I won't stop you," he continued. "I won't react. I won't fight back."

Artemis narrowed her eyes, but something cold settled in her stomach.

Samuel tilted his head slightly, his words slow and precise. "But everything that happens after that? That's on you."

Artemis swallowed.

His stare bore into her, like he was looking through her. She felt exposed. Like every thought she tried to suppress, every hidden fear, was laid out in the open for him to see.

"If your heart wavers," Samuel said softly, "don't shoot."

The bowstring trembled in her grip.

Then—she exhaled, lowering her weapon.

Samuel nodded slightly. "Good."

Artemis clenched her teeth, forcing herself to stay still, but she was rattled. Deep inside, she felt something close to fear—not the fear of being hurt, but the fear of not understanding.

This boy.

What the hell was he?

Before she could speak, Samuel continued. "There's something interesting about you."

She tensed. "What?"

He floated downward, his feet touching the ground as the crackling static around him faded. "The assassin from tonight. You know—the one who escaped."

Artemis stiffened.

Samuel looked her dead in the eyes.

"I know names when I meet people," he said. "It's part of my ability. That's how I knew your name when we first met."

Artemis's breath caught in her throat.

She didn't speak.

She couldn't.

Samuel's voice remained steady.

"Her name... Was Jade Crock."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut.

Samuel let them settle before finishing his thought.

"She has the same last name as you."

Artemis gripped her bow harder than ever.

Samuel's gaze never wavered. His voice was steady, but there was something sharp beneath it—something that made Artemis feel like the air around them had thinned.

"It's just a speculation," he said. "I don't know for sure if you had anything to do with the assassin's escape." He took a step closer, slow and deliberate. "I don't know if she's even really connected to you."

Artemis kept her expression blank, her grip tightening on her bow.

Samuel tilted his head slightly. "It could just be an interesting coincidence. So according to the presumption of innocence, I can't do much to you. All the camera records of our mission were long discarded by someone, too."

Silence hung between them.

Then—he asked.

"What do you want to be?"

Artemis blinked. "What?"

"If you had the choice." Samuel's tone was unreadable. "Do you actually want to be part of this team? Do you want to be a hero?"

Her breath hitched, but her response came immediately. "Yes."

She clenched her fists. "I am a hero. And nothing—nothing—can change that."

Samuel studied her for a long moment.

Then, he spoke.

"If," he said, his voice quiet but cutting, "you actually let go of your assassin sister…"

Artemis inhaled sharply.

"All the future assassinations she commits," Samuel continued, "every single life she takes—"

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to.

Artemis swallowed, her heart pounding.

Samuel watched her carefully. "The fault would lie with you."

The words felt like they physically struck her.

She took a step back. "I—That's not fair—"

"It's the truth."

Artemis wanted to argue. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, that it wasn't that simple, that it wasn't her fault what Jade did.

But the words didn't come.

Samuel exhaled. "If you want to be a vigilante," he said, his tone softer now, but no less firm, "if you want to play hero with the rest of the kids—I won't stop you. As this rusty system is what keeps this world running."

He turned, beginning to walk away. But just before he left, he spoke one last time.

"But remember this."

Artemis looked up.

"Don't hurt them," he said. "And don't hurt yourself. Be clear cut of who you are."

His back was to her now, but his voice still reached her clearly.

"As in this absurd world," Samuel murmured, "someone in your position can cause the biggest consequences… with the smallest action."

Then—without another word—he disappeared.

Leaving Artemis standing alone in the alley, who silently thought about the decision she made.


Samuel lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His thoughts were steady, methodical—turning over the events of the night, replaying every word, every reaction, every outcome. He did not regret what he said to Artemis. He did not feel guilt. He had calculated the risks, weighed the consequences, and acted accordingly. There was no room for emotion in decisions like these.

What he had done was not kindness. It was not cruelty, either. It was control. Probably his first time doing this.

Control. That was all that mattered in this world.

The world he had been forced into, this absurd theater of heroism and villainy, was built on chaos. Cities leveled, organizations crumbled, lives shattered, all because someone had let things spiral too far. Even the so-called heroes played into it, rushing into battle with nothing but good intentions and fists that they hoped were strong enough. That wasn't control. That was reaction. That allowed the world to dictate the game.

And Samuel refused to play by those rules.

Control was never about eliminating chaos—he understood that much. The unpredictable could never be fully tamed, only accounted for. No matter how much he planned, no matter how much he thought ahead, there would always be unknowns. But that didn't mean surrendering to fate. It meant minimizing risks, managing the damage, ensuring that when the storm came, he was the one standing above the wreckage, not buried beneath it.

He had seen it tonight. Artemis, making a choice she would one day regret. Letting her sister walk free, pretending that her hands were clean. But the truth was simple—if Cheshire ever killed again, the fault would not lie solely with the assassin. The responsibility would be shared. That was how control worked. Every action created ripples. Every decision had weight.

She thought she could play hero, carry the name without the burden. But Samuel knew better.

In this world, you did not get to stand in the middle.

Either you controlled the game, or you were a piece to be moved.

Either you dictated the outcome, or you were the collateral damage.

And Artemis… she hadn't realized it yet, but tonight, she had already given up control. Now, she was already a deeper part of the tragedy that is her family and was vulnerable to control. At least she didn't seem so interested in committing crimes, and Samuel could always think of a way to cut the control if anything happened.

Samuel exhaled slowly, shutting his eyes.

Control was never about holding on too tightly. It was about knowing what could be shaped and what had to be endured. It was about ensuring that, when the tide rose, you were standing where the water could never reach.

Tomorrow, the world would keep turning. Heroes would keep fighting. Villains would keep scheming. And he would keep watching, keep adjusting, keep positioning himself so that when the next inevitable disaster struck, he would not be the one caught in its wake.

Even though his nihilism and vanity were still holding on his ankle...He would be the one shaping its course.


The dimly lit chamber flickered with the glow of red and gold lanterns, casting long shadows across the room's ornate wooden walls. At its center, an old man kneeled, his head bowed in submission. His wrinkled, pale hands rested atop his lap, steady despite the weight of the words he was about to speak.

Above him, towering screens displayed shifting silhouettes—faceless, powerful, unseen masters watching from the darkness. Their voices, distorted yet commanding, reverberated through the chamber.

"[Report.]"

The old man lifted his head just slightly. His voice, though aged, carried the discipline of a lifetime of servitude.

"Masters. Before Ojo's capture, he successfully transmitted the S.T.A.R. Labs data you required. However, the Wayne Tech intel remains beyond our reach."

A pause.

Then—

"[Once again, the young heroes interfere]" one voice mused, its tone dripping with disapproval. "[Fortunate, then, that we have an operative… on the inside.]"

Silence stretched for a brief moment before another voice—lower, steady, unreadable—spoke.

"[The boy. Any further intelligence on that boy?]"

The old man hesitated for the first time. He chose his words carefully.

"...One of our finest assassins was subdued by him effortlessly. She managed to escape, but…" His brow furrowed. "Reports suggest that he has an ability—an anomaly—that allows him to bend reality, if only in minor ways."

A different voice, higher and sharp with interest, cut in immediately.

"[Interesting.]" A faint chuckle. "[I want it.]"

The other figures did not acknowledge the demand. Instead, the lowest voice—the one that had asked about the boy—spoke again.

"[Continue surveillance. The young heroes may yet be insignificant… but even the smallest ant can ruin our plans.]"

The old man bowed his head once more. "As you command."

The screens flickered off, one by one, until only darkness remained.


The next week was surprisingly generous to Samuel. After filing his mission report—complete with a formal complaint about fighting literal assassins—Batman permitted him to sit out of the team's latest assignment. Something about Captain Atom and some detective work.

Good. That meant he could avoid all the nonsense of chasing criminals across cities and throwing punches in dark alleyways.

Instead, he spent his days in peace.

He even got used to his newest ability—Magnet Rise. Like Teleport, it had immediate real-world applications. No more walking. No more standing. Just effortless floating, conserving energy while still moving wherever he needed. A magnetic bed, everywhere and anywhere.

Superboy, of course, had opinions.

"Can you stop floating around like a ghost?" he grumbled one afternoon, arms crossed. "It's...uncanny."

Samuel, lying completely horizontal in the air, didn't even glance at him. "No."

And that was that.

It was August 19 when things changed.

A normal, boring day.

Which, to Samuel, meant perfect.

The others were busy. The boys—except for Robin, who was off on a mission with Batman—were training in the sparring area. The two girls, Miss Martian and Artemis, were off in their own corner, whispering to each other about whatever nonsense filled their heads.

Samuel, meanwhile, sat in the main hall, writing an essay. His mind was focused, filtering out everything else.

Mostly.

"Okay, but hear me out," Artemis whispered, nudging Miss Martian. "Kaldur's, like, nice. Handsome. Commanding. You should totally ask him out."

Miss Martian giggled. "He's like a big brother to me." Then her eyes brightened, and she lowered her voice. "But you know who would make the cutest couple—"

Artemis held up a hand, stopping her. "Wait, before that. M'gann… Samuel. What's his deal? Do you know anything about him? He's just so… you know."

Miss Martian blinked. "Quiet?"

"Quiet is one thing. He's like—" Artemis made a vague, exasperated gesture. "He just floats around, says barely anything, and somehow knows everything. He literally stared me down last week in an alley after floating out of nowhere. I swear, he's—"

Miss Martian hummed in thought. "He's just… Samuel?"

Artemis groaned. "That doesn't mean anything."

Samuel, for his part, continued writing, entirely unmoved by the conversation. He barely registered it. Whatever they were whispering about had nothing to do with him. Not really.

Then—

Thud.

From the training area, Superboy pinned Aqualad to the ground. The impact reverberated through the room.

Aqualad exhaled sharply but nodded in approval. "Well done."

Superboy grinned slightly, pushing himself up. "I learned that move from Canary."

As the spar ended, Red Tornado descended from his hatch, his movements smooth as he glided down to the floor. Without hesitation, he turned toward the exit, his duty—whatever it was—clearly in mind.

But Kid Flash stepped in front of him, hands on his hips. "Do you have a mission for us?" he asked, voice eager.

Red Tornado barely paused. "Mission assignments are Batman's responsibility."

"Yeah, well, the Batman's busy doing the dynamic duo thing in Gotham with Robin. But you—you're headed somewhere, right? Hot date? Or a mission?"

Samuel, having just finished his essay, turned his head toward the android, watching. Red Tornado met his gaze for a brief moment before finally walking over to the holographic display.

A new image materialized on the screen. An elderly man, white-haired but standing tall, dressed in a suit and holding a cane with an ornate golden handle.

"This is Kent Nelson, a friend," Red Tornado said. "He is 106 years old."

Samuel observed the picture. For a man of his age, he seemed remarkably well-kept.

"And he has been missing for 23 days," Red Tornado continued. "Kent was a charter member of the Justice Society—the precursor to your mentors' Justice League."

Samuel already knew about the Justice Society. The older generation of heroes, many of them active during the war. A relic of a different time, one largely forgotten by the modern age. He had read about them in books, but this man…

"Of course." Aqualad's voice was serious, his expression sharpening as the image shifted to that of a costumed figure. "Nelson was Earth's sorcerer supreme. He was Dr. Fate."

Magic.

Samuel felt a strange tug of interest. He had never personally encountered magic before. He had seen reports, read historical accounts of supernatural occurrences, and heard of the many mystical figures in the hero community. But he had never seen it.

How did it work? Did it follow its own set of laws? Could it be understood rationally? Or was it pure, unfiltered chaos—something that defied logic itself? Did it have any connection to his own powers?

"Pfft. More like Doctor Fake." Kid Flash scoffed, nudging Samuel. "Guy knows advanced science and 'Dumbledores' it up to scare bad guys and impress babes."

Samuel glanced at him but didn't respond. The kid was too caught up in his own world. He clearly wasn't ready to approach this from a rational, scientific perspective.

"Kent may simply be on one of his walkabouts," Red Tornado continued, unaffected. "But he is the caretaker of the Helmet of Fate—the source of the doctor's mystic might. It is unwise to leave such power unguarded."

Miss Martian's eyes lit up. "He's like the great sorcerer priests and priestesses of Mars! I would be honored to help find him."

Kid Flash immediately straightened. "Me too! So honored I can barely stand it. Magic rocks."

Artemis scoffed at his sudden change in attitude.

Red Tornado looked at Samuel.

Samuel considered for a moment.

Then he nodded.

This was an opportunity. A chance to witness magic firsthand, to study it, to understand something that had always eluded scientific reasoning. It was also a chance to meet a historical figure—one who had shaped the early years of superhero history. Maybe he could also seek how he got this...weird power, and how it works.

And besides, the mission didn't seem particularly dangerous. It wasn't really vigilantism to visit an old man anyways.

The team, especially Artemis, looked a little surprised at his willingness.

"Take this." Red Tornado handed over an ornate golden key, its design intricate and almost unnatural. "It is the key to the Tower of Fate."

The others began moving toward the Bio-Ship, but Samuel lingered for a moment, watching the android.

"You're not coming," he observed.

Red Tornado turned to him. "Correct."

"Why?" Samuel asked, though he already had a guess.

Red Tornado was silent for a moment before responding. "Magic… does not agree with me."

Samuel narrowed his eyes slightly. "And?"

Red Tornado's glowing eyes dimmed slightly, as if considering his words. "Consider this an opportunity. Take some time with your teammates without me. Even if you do not see yourself as part of the team, getting to know them will not harm you. Perhaps you will find it beneficial."

Samuel scoffed.

The robot cared more about these kids than half the adults sitting on the Watchtower.

Without another word, he turned and followed the others onto the Bio-Ship.