Starting With Batman

Ivan didn’t blink; his eyes locked onto the figure standing under the flickering light before him. The harsh shadows cast across the stranger's face made it feel like he was staring directly into a mirror—a twisted, uncanny reflection. A wave of unease threatened to rise within him, but he fought it back, grounding himself in the discipline he'd honed over years of relentless work.

Don’t blink, don’t flinch, don’t show fear. The mantra echoed in his mind, as steady and familiar as his own heartbeat. He reminded himself that this had to be some kind of trick—perhaps an illusion created by the infection or maybe a masterful disguise. The infected had exhibited all sorts of strange abilities, and this could be another manifestation of their twisted nature. Ivan repeated these thoughts over and over in his mind, willing himself to remain calm, to not let his expression betray even a flicker of surprise. He knew, better than anyone, that letting your opponent read your emotions was a fatal mistake. In this line of work, the moment you showed your hand was the moment you lost. But despite his training, despite everything he had experienced, he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that this time was different.

Deep down, an instinct older than reason whispered that this wasn’t a disguise or an illusion—this was something far more terrifying.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want to see me,” the figure across from him said, a wide grin spreading across his face. The voice was Ivan’s own, but laced with a cruel, mocking edge. “Back at the base, when they showed you the surveillance footage—when you saw me appear—you couldn’t control yourself, could you? You received the message I sent you. I greeted you through that lens, and you wanted to see me. Every cell in your body was screaming for it, because deep down, you know we are special to each other.”

Ivan remained silent; the only sign of his inner turmoil was the subtle tightening of his jaw. He remembered that moment at the base all too well—how he had been struck by a sudden fever that had left him disoriented, a burning heat that had driven him from the building. He had tried to rationalize it afterward, telling himself that he had acted on impulse, that he didn’t want to be confined or restrained by the others, that he needed to discover the truth on his own terms. But no amount of reasoning could dispel the truth he had been avoiding: that deep within him, there had been an undeniable urge to see the man with his own face, the one who had appeared on that surveillance screen.

“Who are you?” The words came out through gritted teeth, each syllable a struggle against the anger bubbling up inside him.

“Hahaha, what an interesting question,” the other Ivan laughed, a sound that sent a chill down Ivan’s spine. “Have you ever seen someone ask who they are in the mirror?”

“You are not me.” Ivan’s voice was firm, but there was a tremor beneath it that betrayed his uncertainty.

“Of course I am you.” The grin on the other Ivan’s face widened. “But if you insist on calling me something else… why not call me Ivon?”

The name hung in the air like a ghost. Ivon—the name Ivan had discarded, the identity he had buried along with the man he used to be. A legally dead person. Ivan didn’t respond, his gaze never wavering from the other’s face as if he could peel back the layers of skin to see the truth underneath.

“So, it’s always been you?” Ivan asked, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. “The source of the infection? The infected people, the monsters in the city… that’s all you?”

“It’s too simplistic to say it’s just me,” Ivon replied, his tone almost playful. “It’s more accurate to say it’s ‘us.’ You and me, we share the same desires, the same darkness. If you need an explanation, think of me as a part of you, born from the ‘nothing’ inside your heart. Every time you’ve felt anxious about the future, every time you’ve been afraid of the unknown, every time you’ve lost faith in what you once believed in, I grew a little stronger. I am your shadow, feeding off the shadows within you, becoming more powerful with each passing day. And when poor old Brooke put that gun to his head for you—boom! That’s when I truly came into being. That’s when I was born.”

Ivan’s hands clenched into fists, the leather of his gloves creaking under the strain. His knuckles were white, and his heart pounded like a war drum in his chest. “No, I never wanted that—”

“Never wanted what?” Ivon’s voice cut him off, dripping with sarcasm. “To break a few necks on a whim? To pick up a gun and unload it into a bunch of random, helpless old fools?” Ivon laughed, a harsh, grating sound that echoed off the walls. “You see, what we actually want is the same. Of course it is—we are the same person, after all. I’ve been saying this all along. To people, the unknown future is like a big bad wolf, and all of them—those poor, helpless sheep—are at its mercy. They can’t run, they can’t hide, and they don’t know who the wolf will devour next. But what we want is to change that. To tip the scales, to shake things up, to add a little chaos to this boring world. We’ll let the sheep become mysterious to the big bad wolf. Let it experience the fear of the ‘nothing’ that you fear so much. That is your deepest wish, Ivan. You just don’t have the guts to admit it yet. But don’t worry—that’s why I’m here. To do what even you can’t do, to become the person you need to be but are too afraid to become.”

“It’s different,” Ivan spat, his voice trembling with barely restrained fury. “I killed only those who deserved it…”

“Those who deserved it?” Ivon’s grin was mocking, his eyes glittering with dark amusement. “Ha! I bet you’d like to believe that. But deep down, you know it’s not true. Don’t worry, though—I know what you really want. And it’s all coming together very quickly now. My experiments after the previous events are complete, and I’m ready. The things that happened last night? That was just a small test. Today is the real work. It’s time to harvest the infection I’ve spread, starting with Zone Z. Soon, everything will be just as we want it to be…”

“Stop, you madman,” Ivan hissed through clenched teeth. His eyes were blazing with fury and disgust as he stared at the twisted reflection before him. Never in his life had he felt such a deep, visceral hatred—not even for the worst criminals he had ever hunted. His hands itched to reach out and snap the other man’s neck, but they were bound behind his back, leaving him helpless.

“You’re welcome,” Ivon replied with a smirk. “To be honest, I’ve been looking forward to this for a long… long time. Originally, I should have been able to prepare a lot more, but some strange people have appeared recently. But it's okay, hahaha, they’ve only made the game more exciting…”

Suddenly, with a loud *snap,* the old chandelier above them went out, plunging the room into complete darkness. The shadows swallowed everything, leaving only the faintest outlines visible. Ivan’s heart skipped a beat, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. He knew what this meant.

Batman.

The name echoed in his mind like a whisper. Somewhere along the way, darkness had become his symbol, his calling card. The room was silent for a moment, and then, unexpectedly, a sound broke through the tension—a low, mocking laugh. But it didn’t come from Ivon, the source of the infection, the twisted mirror image. No, the laughter came from Ivan himself, despite the fact that he was still bound to the chair. Ivon turned towards him, his expression curious and slightly amused.

“What? Have you finally begun to see the allure of nothingness?”

“No.” Ivan’s voice was a low, dangerous rumble, laced with a cold fury that sent chills down Ivon’s spine. “I’m just laughing because you’re about to face disaster.”

“Ha, you have so much confidence in that guy?” Ivon scoffed, though there was an edge to his voice now, a hint of uncertainty. “I think you should have realized by now that he’s just a mortal. He tries to disguise himself with masks and gadgets, but in the end, he’s just a man. I’ll prove it to you. Watch, Ivan. He’s no different from anyone else. What he offers isn’t the hope of defeating ‘nothing,’ it’s just a mirage, an illusion…”

But Ivan continued to sneer, his expression growing more contemptuous by the second.

“You say you’re me, that I’m you,” Ivan began, his voice calm and deliberate, each word weighted with meaning. “Then no one understands you better than I do. Do you think you can be his opponent? That you can stand against him? Let me tell you something—you’re half right in what you said before; you ‘are’ nothing…

…nothing to him.”

“What did you say?” Ivon’s voice trembled slightly, the confidence in his grin faltering.

“I said, you’re nothing in front of him.” Ivan’s eyes glinted with a fierce, defiant light as he leaned forward in his chair. "You claim to be the incarnation of 'nothing'? That's laughable," Ivan continued, his voice dripping with scorn. "You might be able to deceive others with your words, maybe even fool yourself into believing you’re something more than you are. But if you are truly something born from my heart, then you can’t fool me. I know exactly what you are."

Ivan’s words hung in the air, each one slicing through the darkness like a knife. Ivon stood motionless, the smug grin on his face slowly fading, replaced by a look of growing unease.

"So, let me spell it out for you," Ivan said, his voice low and menacing. "You are not worthy of being his opponent. I’ve seen him with my own eyes, and I know what he’s capable of. Maybe he’s not special in the conventional sense, but the idea that you could infect him, twist him into something like you? That’s impossible. You don’t have the power to drive someone like him mad."

Ivon’s expression hardened, a flicker of anger flashing in his eyes. "And what makes you so sure of that, Ivan? You think you know him so well? You think he’s untouchable? Everyone has a breaking point. Everyone can be pushed to the edge."

"Not him," Ivan replied firmly, leaning back in his chair with an air of confidence that only infuriated Ivon further. "You can’t break someone who’s already embraced the darkness. You can’t make a madman madder."

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