Broken(DC)

Plumes of black smoke soared into the sky, painting it in grim shades. The blazing fire engulfing dozens of floors cast a crimson glow over Gotham's streets. A raging inferno, primal and unrelenting, was being fought by fearless firefighters who risked their lives to halt its destructive onslaught. Numerous rescue services had gathered here, each fulfilling their crucial role. Medics worked swiftly to aid the injured, while police secured the streets and cleared routes for ambulances.

Survivors were being brought out of the skyscraper in an unbroken stream, though with each passing moment, their numbers dwindled. Eventually, the flow ceased entirely, leaving only a single child clutching to hope. She stood waiting, desperately praying for the person dearest to her heart to emerge alive.

"Please, Brian… survive," the girl whispered with trembling lips. Her unblinking eyes were fixed on the towering structure, refusing to leave until she saw him safe.

A solitary tear rolled down her cheek, but clenching her small fists, she suppressed the urge to cry.

"Come back to me, please," she murmured again, her words a quiet prayer.

As if responding to her call, something stirred within the depths of the building. On a shattered stairwell, beneath a mass of concrete rubble and pierced by steel rebar, lay a lifeless body. Yet the body began to move, struggling weakly to free itself. Each effort seemed in vain, but then, as if making a resolute decision, a hand reached into a pocket. With the last reserves of strength, it fumbled for its goal: a vial of green liquid that had miraculously remained intact despite the chaos.

The trembling hand brought the vial closer to the lips, but the effort faltered halfway, and the hand fell limp, mere inches from the goal. The body lay still once more, drained of strength.

Amid the cacophony of destruction, a faint heartbeat echoed—a fragile sound on the verge of disappearing. Slowly, the hand began to move again, and at last, the vial reached the lips. A few drops of the liquid entered the boy's mouth before the hand fell lifelessly to his side. The feeble heartbeat stopped, and the body exhaled its final breath.

The fire raged on, inching closer, threatening to reduce the child's form to ashes and scatter them to the wind. How could the world be so merciless? A mere handful of seconds separated life from death, a sliver of time that could have allowed the liquid to take effect.

The flames crept nearer, and the end seemed inevitable. Yet, something strange occurred: the fire froze, and fragments of debris hung motionless in the air, as if time itself had been paused.

In the silence, the sharp sound of heels echoed. Amid the wreckage, black boots on high heels moved with a deliberate rhythm. The figure's legs were clad in sleek black jeans, secured by a stylish belt. A black tank top accentuated her figure, complemented by a biker jacket. Her face was framed by dark makeup, and her raven-black hair completed the striking image. Resting casually on her shoulder was an umbrella.

The woman approached the lifeless body and knelt beside it, scrutinizing it with a piercing gaze. Her eyes lingered on the hand clutching the vial, and she shook her head slightly, as though disappointed.

[image]

"The wrong choice, but you'll have to live with it," the stranger said with a hint of reproach. She leaned closer to the boy's face.

Her lips moved closer, and a thin stream of smoke escaped her mouth, snaking into the boy's lifeless lips.

"Your time isn't up yet. I'm curious to see how this ends," she added with a smirk, pulling back.

The flames, which had been mere inches away, seemed to retreat as if driven back by an unseen force. Fragments of debris and dust began to rise, reversing their chaotic fall, as though time itself were rewinding.

"When the time comes, I'll return for you," the woman whispered before standing up. Her silhouette faded, step by step, until it vanished entirely.

Time snapped back into place. The boy, still alive in that critical moment, struggled once more to bring the vial to his lips. This time, though, he succeeded. The green liquid spilled into his mouth, and his hand dropped weakly to the ground.

But something had changed. His heartbeat, though faint, continued. The elixir had begun its work.

A violent reaction rippled through his body. His heart pounded with such force that its rhythm seemed to echo through the surrounding wreckage. His veins swelled, glowing a vivid green that illuminated the gloom. His muscles bulged, growing larger and more defined with every second.

The still form jerked to life, and his eyes snapped open, their irises blazing neon green. A primal roar erupted from his mouth as he gasped for air.

With a surge of newfound strength, the boy's muscles tensed visibly, and the concrete slabs pinning him began to shift. The roar wasn't human—it was feral. Steel rebar tore itself free from his flesh, and his blood, now a vivid green, spurted briefly before inexplicably flowing back into his body.

In one powerful motion, he cast the heavy rubble aside, sending it crashing into the surrounding wreckage. The boy was unrecognizable—taller, broader, and radiating raw power. But his eyes held no sign of humanity, only madness.

The mindless creature thrashed about, driven by a singular instinct: survival. It began carving its path out of the ruins, pulverizing debris with bare fists and forging a way to freedom through brute force.

Soon, the creature emerged into a section of the building untouched by flames. The mutated boy descended a staircase, his movements erratic. He shook his head violently as though trying to expel some unseen torment. Step by step, his thrashing became more intense until he began slamming his head into the wall, punctuating the blows with powerful punches.

"ARRRGHHH!" the creature bellowed, a guttural sound that echoed through the building.

"Quickly! I heard noises up there—there might be survivors!" a man's voice called from below.

The creature froze, then snapped its head toward the sound. Lights from flashlights began to flicker upward, casting long, dancing shadows on the walls. With an animalistic growl, the creature sprang into motion, leaping down several flights of stairs at a time.

The rescue workers ascending the staircase were oblivious to the danger until it was far too late. The last expressions etched on their faces were mixtures of shock and terror.

The feral boy lunged at them, tearing through their bodies with horrifying ease. Blood sprayed the walls as the rescuers were ripped apart before they could even react. The mutated Brian had lost himself completely to the madness of the Venom drug. It granted him incredible power, but at the cost of his mind.

Even in his frenzy, a flicker of awareness sparked within him—he knew, somewhere deep inside, that what he was doing was monstrous. As he looked at his blood-soaked hands, a fleeting moment of clarity passed through him, and he froze, horrified by his actions.

But the reprieve was brief. Another wave of rage overtook him, consuming the last remnants of his sanity. With a guttural roar, he barreled forward, hungering for new victims.

POV: James Gordon

The emergency call came through, pulling us out of our seats. Nearly every available officer was dispatched to assist. Even as detectives, we couldn't sit this one out. Wayne Enterprises' skyscraper had come under a terrorist attack. From what we could piece together, the terrorists' plans had been interrupted. A fight had broken out on one of the floors, drawing a response from building security. Despite the building's security systems being disabled, the guards quickly began evacuating personnel—a wise move given the circumstances.

During what appeared to be a brief skirmish, a series of explosions rocked the building, igniting fires across several floors. With the fire suppression systems out of commission, firefighters were the only line of defense against the raging blaze.

Despite the intensity of the fire, casualties were miraculously minimal. Only the security team, who'd fought the attackers, had been killed. Everyone else had made it out alive, and rescue workers had already evacuated most of the staff. A few suffered minor burns and mild smoke inhalation, but paramedics were on-site to provide immediate care.

There was more good news: the security systems had been restored, reactivating the building's fire suppression mechanisms. The fires were subsiding, floor by floor, leaving only five levels where firefighters would have to go in manually to extinguish the remaining flames.

As I stood at the perimeter collecting witness statements, a commotion erupted near the entrance. Rescue workers and firefighters were fleeing the building, their faces pale with fear. Thinking it might be the remaining attackers, I gestured to the nearest officers to follow me and hurried to intercept them.

Grabbing a panicked firefighter by the arm, I demanded answers.

"What's going on?" I asked firmly.

"There's… there's a monster in there! It's tearing everyone apart!" the firefighter stammered, pointing shakily toward the building.

"We'll handle it," I assured him.

Signaling my team, we drew our weapons and disengaged the safeties. Moving cautiously, we approached the entrance and stepped inside. The flickering lights cast eerie shadows, giving the place the atmosphere of a horror movie. From somewhere above, an animalistic growl echoed down the stairwell.

Following the sound, we readied ourselves and pushed through a door, switching on our flashlights to illuminate the scene. Blood was splattered across the walls, and a trail of destruction led us to the source.

Standing amidst the carnage was the "monster." But it wasn't a creature—it was a person, albeit one transformed by the infamous Venom drug. I'd seen the aftermath of Venom before, but this... this was different. Who in their right mind would inject themselves with that poison in the middle of an evacuation?

There was no reasoning with someone in this state. They either burned themselves out—or had to be put down before they could do more harm. For now, though, the figure didn't seem to notice us. He was on his knees, head bowed, staring at the floor as if trapped in some kind of trance.

I motioned for my team to back out quietly. Perhaps we still had a chance to subdue him without escalating the situation. Nets, tranquilizers—anything to bring him down safely.

As we began retreating, careful not to make any noise, one of the officers stumbled over debris, letting out a sharp cry of pain as he fell.

Dread filled me as I turned to look back. My fears were confirmed: the "monster" was already staring at us, its growls intensifying.

"Move! Back to the street, cover each other!" I barked, raising my weapon.

The hallway filled with tension as we began our retreat, the sound of the creature's guttural snarls growing louder behind us.

A man under the influence of the Venom drug charged at us, and we opened fire, aiming for his limbs to slow him down. In the chaos, it seemed as though the wounds from our bullets were healing before our eyes. Maybe it was just a trick of the light—it didn't matter. We needed to get out.

Emptying our magazines, we quickly realized that our bullets weren't enough to stop him. He kept coming at an alarming speed. Reloading, I made the decision to aim for the head; he was closing in on us too fast.

"Fire to kill! Aim carefully!" I ordered, as we paused for a brief moment to line up our shots. With only a couple of meters between us and the creature, we opened fire.

Multiple rounds pierced his body, tearing through his chest and head. Green blood flowed freely from his wounds. He growled like a beast, trying to cover the last few steps toward us. But at last, it seemed over—he collapsed right in front of us.

"Call the medical examiner. We need this body examined," I instructed, crouching down to inspect the remains.

Judging by his appearance, he was very young—possibly just a teenager. His body showed obvious signs of drug use, but his stature seemed far too small for Venom's usual victims. Who would inject such a dangerous substance into a child? Or had he done it to himself?

From his appearance, it looked like he'd come from the upper floors, likely making his way down the stairwell. What could have happened up there?

While waiting for the examiner, I searched his clothes for anything that might help identify him. His pockets yielded nothing but a few knives. His clothing was scorched, indicating that he had been inside the building during the fire and somehow survived.

The medical examiner arrived quickly, and I stepped aside to let him work. He began collecting samples and examining the body. It was another case of Venom—another headache in a long line of them. I stepped outside for a cigarette, needing to clear my head.

Just as I lit it, a bloodcurdling scream shattered the air.

Looking back, I saw a horrifying sight: the "corpse" had latched onto the examiner's throat with its teeth. The man screamed in agony, choking on his own blood. With a gruesome motion, the creature ripped his throat out and began chewing. Before my eyes, its bullet wounds began to heal, the holes sealing shut as if they had never existed.

It wasn't human anymore—it was a monster.

The creature tore chunks of flesh from the examiner's body, devouring them with primal hunger.

Nearby officers, including myself, opened fire again. But the wounds we inflicted only enraged it further, and they healed almost instantly. Faster and more furious, the monster leapt at another officer, tearing into him as well.

"Fall back! Everyone, retreat!" I shouted, sprinting toward the exit.

It felt as though death was breathing down my neck. Goosebumps raced over my skin, urging me to run faster and not look back.

"Get the net launchers! Bring heavier weapons!" I yelled to the officers outside as I burst from the building. They froze for a moment, shock evident on their faces—until they saw what was behind me. Then they scrambled to their vehicles to grab gear.

As I reached the barricades, I heard the monster's heavy footsteps closing in on me.

"Look out, Jim!" my partner, Harvey Bullock, shouted, charging toward me with a shotgun.

Suddenly, the world spun, and I was thrown off my feet. My vision blurred, and everything became a whirlwind of colors and sounds. When I came to, I was slammed into the side of a car, dazed and on the verge of blacking out.

"Gordon!" Harvey's voice pierced the ringing in my ears.

As the noise faded, I heard him again, louder this time: "Gordon! Are you okay?"

"Yeah… yeah, I think so," I groaned, struggling to sit up.

"Damn it, Jim, I thought you were done for when it got you!" he said, his face pale with worry.

"That thing isn't easy to kill," I muttered, leaning against the car for support.

The creature, now outside, was being bombarded with nets and heavy gunfire. Its regeneration slowed, and green blood pooled on the pavement. It roared in fury, thrashing against the restraints.

Then, to our shock, a young girl ran forward, placing herself between the monster and the officers.

"Cease fire, you idiots!" Harvey shouted, calling for the team to hold their fire.

"Girl, get over here! It's not safe!" Harvey called out, approaching her carefully.

"Don't hurt him! He's my brother!" she cried, standing firm despite the danger.

"I'm sorry, but your brother is dangerous. Please, step away," Harvey pleaded, trying to coax her to safety.

"No! I won't let you hurt him!" she insisted, her voice breaking with desperation.

The creature roared again, reaching toward her with a frenzied strength, breaking through parts of the netting as it fought to free itself.

The girl jumped back in fear but didn't go far. She stood frozen, staring at her brother, who clearly wasn't trying to hug her. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Brian, it's me, Alice," she called out to him.

Her words only seemed to make him more aggressive. He thrashed harder against the net, which was beginning to give way. If we didn't act quickly, he would break free and might harm her. My partner realized this as well.

"We'll help him, but please, go somewhere safe," Bullock urged.

The sound of the net tearing apart grew louder. Suddenly, someone dashed forward and grabbed the girl, pulling her to safety. It was Alfred Pennyworth.

"Listen, Alice," the Wayne family butler said, kneeling to her level, "we'll help him, but you need to stay safe."

"Okay, but don't hurt him," the girl pleaded, her voice trembling.

"Detectives Bullock, Gordon," Alfred addressed us, standing, "what non-lethal equipment do you have?"

"Only net guns and tasers," I replied.

"Hmm, that won't suffice. We need to sedate him. The medics should have tranquilizers," Alfred suggested.

"Let's move forward with that," I agreed.

We deployed our last nets, buying a few minutes for preparation. The plan was simple but incredibly risky. First, we'd use tasers to stun him, then approach to administer a maximum dose of tranquilizers. Given his rapid regeneration, we estimated he'd need a dose fit for an elephant.

We moved to the ambulances, retrieving syringes filled with tranquilizers. The officers with tasers took their positions, ready to strike.

"On three," I instructed. "One, two, three!"

The officers fired, and powerful jolts of electricity surged through the boy, causing his body to convulse. As soon as he faltered, Bullock, Alfred, and I moved in. My role was to inject the tranquilizer while they restrained him. They grappled with his flailing limbs as I jabbed the syringe into his neck.

The taser's effects wore off, and he began to struggle again. Despite the combined weight of three grown men, he started to rise.

"Hit him with another dose!" Bullock shouted.

I immediately plunged a second syringe into him. It didn't seem to faze him. First, he flung Alfred aside, then sent my partner sprawling. I stepped back, avoiding his grasp, but he turned his fury toward me. Tearing apart the remnants of the net, he locked his gaze on me, filled with rage.

Swaying on his feet, he shook his head as if trying to clear his mind. For a moment, I thought the tranquilizers were taking effect. Then, with a guttural roar, he stepped toward me—only to collapse at my feet.

"We did it," I exhaled, finally allowing myself a moment of relief.

Under close supervision, medics administered an IV drip loaded with sedatives to ensure he wouldn't wake up. For extra security, we shackled him tightly before transporting him to a specialized psychiatric facility. The facility was equipped with reinforced rooms designed to contain someone with his level of strength if he woke up.

His fate would depend on whether doctors could find a way to cure him of this affliction. The odds weren't in his favor—Venom was a deadly substance with no known survivors.

Still, I hoped he would somehow be the first.