The assassin, clad in dark garb like a ghost of night, deflected Batman's grappling gun with his katana, steel ringing against steel.
Bang!
The weapon veered off course, and Batman's apparition‑like form lunged forward, his fist crashing into the ninja's face and sending him sprawling to the ground.
But more attackers emerged, masked samurai warriors stepping from the shadows, their long katanas gleaming in the faint glow of Gotham's Christmas lights.
"Hmm… looks like a planned ambush. Old friends?" Batman's deep, hoarse voice came from beneath his mask.
The encircling ninjas said nothing. Instead, blades reflected cold steel as afterimages flickered through the swirling snow.
Without hesitation, Batman ran forward, firing his grappling gun and launching himself into the group. Landing with precise control, he rolled sideways and fired again, hooking the device onto an overhead metal beam. He pulled himself up and away from the immediate threat, securing distance.
Perched on the metal frame, he revealed a square‑edged Batarang and hurled it toward the nearest foe.
Whoosh!
The weapon arced silently and struck true, hitting a samurai in the chest and knocking him down. Two warriors fell, and the others scattered, swinging their swords to deflect additional Batarangs.
Batman unfolded his cape and glided toward the center of his attackers, using its aerodynamic design to dive and strike. His iron fist connected with a samurai's chest, sending the warrior crashing back.
Clang!
Metal rang as Batman twisted his arm gauntlet to block a downward slash, then rolled out of harm's way and countered with a powerful punch that felled another enemy.
Even surrounded, he continued fighting with inexhaustible precision, but four hands were too many. He was kicked in the back, stumbled forward, and a katana arced toward his chest.
Batman raised his gauntleted forearm to block, bracing himself — but before steel could meet armor, a new figure hurtled into the midst of the samurai like a falling star.
Clad in heroic armor and cloak, she roared with unrestrained power and leaped into the air, fist raised to strike.
Boom!
The alley shook as the lead attackers were hurled into the brick wall behind them. Bodies thudded against the frozen ground.
Batman lowered his arms and stared, unblinking, at Wonder Woman, who stood among the defeated.
"It's me. Looks like I arrived just in time," she said, adjusting her cloak.
"I suppose I owe you thanks," Batman replied, eyeing the fallen foes. He crouched beside one, checking for signs of life.
"All of them are dead," he concluded with a frown. He lifted a samurai mask and peered at the face beneath it.
"These are members of the League of Assassins," he said quietly. "They left no survivors."
"Yes," Wonder Woman said, surveying the scene, "the Shadow Clan, loyalists within the League of Assassins. They operate as elite attackers in service of their cause." Talia al Ghul's name and legacy have long ties to that organization of elite fighters and assassins.
Batman rose, eyes narrowed beneath his cowl. "An ambush like this means they expected me… and they know me well enough to lure me here."
"Perhaps," Wonder Woman replied, scanning the snowy surroundings. "This location — does it have significance to you?"
She recognized this alley from Gotham's darker corners.
Batman did not answer. He stared at the damp ground, at a faint white outline beneath the melting snow, echoes of memory and reality blurring together. Then he turned and walked away, his cape brushing the cold pavement.
Wonder Woman looked down at the fallen samurai and followed after him. Snow fell heavier now, thick flakes drifting down on Gotham's blackened streets, turning the city's edge into a strange contrast of purity and violence.
As they walked side by side, Wonder Woman asked softly, "Working overtime this Christmas too?"
Batman's voice was flat. "I am not working."
"Oh?" she smiled. "But people say you're a vigilante. That's a job by some definitions."
Batman said nothing.
She knew him, more than most. Her presence often stirred echoes of his own burdens, probing places he preferred silent.
After a moment, Batman fired his grappling gun again.
Whoosh!
The cable shot upward, catching a high ledge. He ascended swiftly, leaving her behind.
Wonder Woman watched him go, then turned toward a nearby shop, its Christmas decorations glowing like warmth on a cold night.
Inside a shop window sat a snow globe. She approached and peered at it. Snow globes, encapsulating miniature scenes, are among the most cherished holiday gifts — symbols of memory and wonder.
Inside, a tiny red‑haired princess clutched a bow, ready to strike at an unseen monster. Wonder Woman allowed herself a faint smile.
"I didn't come to Christmas in vain," she murmured. "I found a gift after all."
On the other side of the world, morning dawned over Smallville.
Adrian woke to a ringing phone. After a few moments, he hung up, then turned to find Clark blinking sleepily beside him.
"Everything okay?" Clark asked, his head foggy from two nights of "flying" training and repeated falls.
Adrian replied steadily, "Pete's awake at the hospital. The doctors say he's recovering well, no lingering issues."
Clark's face lit up. "That's the best news I've heard in days! I'm going to see him right now."
As Clark stood, Adrian called out, "Didn't we agree to pick up Mom and Dad from Grandma's today?"
Clark froze. "Oh… right."
Adrian sipped his hot coffee, then said, "Pete can wait. Let's get the car."
They drove east along Interstate 70 toward Smoky Hill, the ground dusted with light Christmas snow.
Clark steered, lost in thought, until he spotted Lana walking out of the Talon Club.
Clark's gaze locked on her instantly.
"If you stare at her again, you'll hit that pedestrian!" Adrian said, his tone casual but sharp.
Clark blinked and looked ahead. "Sorry."
Lana saw them and waved enthusiastically, brightening Clark's expression.
"If you like someone, hiding from it only pushes them further away," Adrian said matter‑of‑factly as he looked out the window.
Clark exhaled. "It's complicated. Lana and I… I try to help her, but it feels like every time I get close, I hurt her. And it feels like she's drifting away from me."
He hesitated. "And I think she might feel something… for you, too."
Clark's admission wasn't jealousy, just honest reflection — and that honesty made his voice soft, clear, real.
Adrian nodded. "If all you bring others is pain, maybe stepping back isn't weakness."
They passed through Blue Valley, a town Clark recognized — the high schoolers who once called themselves the Justice Society lived here — Wildcat, Hourman, Stargirl, and Doctor Mid‑Night. But they were no longer active heroes.
As they drove, the car trembled with a mild ground shift.
Clark frowned. "What was that?"
"I don't know," Adrian said with a cool edge. "But it wasn't an earthquake. You once caused one in Smallville, so you'd feel this."
The tremors grew stronger until Clark braked suddenly, leaving deep skid marks in the asphalt.
Clark and Adrian stepped out. Before they could speak, a café nearby exploded, sending steel and debris flying as panicked screams echoed.
A colossal figure burst through the wall, tearing through steel like paper, its monstrous form rising amid chaos as the civilians fled in terror.