The infirmary was too white, too clean, and far too monitored. I lay on the thin mattress, staring at the ceiling and mapping the ventilation ducts with the Sharingan. My eyes burned, a pulsating throb that reminded me every flicker of those red irises came with a tax on my stamina.
"Ring," I thought, barely a whisper in my mind. "Status on the 'Ghost' protocol."
"Active. Energy signatures masked from localized sensors. Internal power: 6.8%. Secondary storage: 0.1%."
The AI's voice was a cold comfort. The energy I'd siphoned from the wall outlet earlier was a joke—a drop of water in a desert. To truly charge this thing, I needed a Power Battery, or something with the output of a small star. The Zeta-beam tech in this mountain was the closest thing to a "star" I had access to.
The door hissed open. I wasn't surprised. I'd heard the pace of heavy-booted stride from ten yards away.
Black Canary walked in. She didn't wear the mask or the fishnets here—just tactical pants and a gray tank top. She looked less like a superhero and more like a woman who could snap my neck before I finished a sentence.
"Vex," she said, pulling up a chair. No "Mr. Vale," no corporate pleasantries. "I'm Dinah. I'm the Team's combat instructor. How's the head?"
"Like someone's trying to kick their way out of my skull," I said, sitting up. I kept my expression neutral, leaning into the 'frustrated teenager' role. "Does the Mountain always vibrate this loud, or is that just me?"
"It's a lot to take in," she conceded. "But we're more interested in what you put out. Robin's data shows a unique energy signature from that ring, and your eyes... they're more than just a cosmetic mutation. You were tracking his movements at the plant with 100% accuracy."
I see. Robins HDU had something like that.
I shrugged, looking at the ring. "It's a tool. I don't know where it came from. I just know it keeps me alive. And the eyes? They just see too much. It's hard to turn it off."
"Then we'll teach you how to focus," she stood, gesturing toward the door. "Training room. Five minutes. Let's see what you can do without the jewelry."
The training floor was a massive, circular arena of reinforced polymers. Robin, Wally, and Kaldur were gathered on the observation deck. I could feel their eyes on me—the new variable in their equation.
I stepped onto the mats, barefoot. Dinah stood opposite me, her stance relaxed but her weight perfectly centered.
"No ring, Vex," she warned. "Just you."
"Fine by me," I said. I let the Sharingan bleed into my vision. The world slowed. I could see the twitch of her calf muscle, the way her breathing shifted as she prepared to move.
She lunged.
It was a standard lead hook, fast and precise. To a normal kid, it would have been a blur. To me, it was a choreographed sequence. I ducked, feeling the wind of her fist pass over my hair, and stepped to the left.
Recall. I didn't just see the punch; I felt the mechanics of it. The pivot of the foot, the rotation of the hip. I copied it instantly.
I threw the same hook back at her. She blocked it with an effortless forearm parry, but her eyebrows shot up.
"Good form," she noted, spinning into a low sweep.
I jumped, clearing her leg, and landed in a crouch. "I'm a quick learner."
As we traded blows, I wasn't just fighting. I was scanning. Every time the Zeta-tubes in the hall cycled, I felt a massive spike in the mountain's ambient energy. My Sharingan tracked the conduits running beneath the floorboards—thick, shielded cables glowing with a power that made the wall outlets look like AA batteries.
There. The primary junction for the Zeta-platform sat directly beneath the sparring ring.
I took a deliberate hit to the shoulder, stumbling back toward the center of the mat. I needed to stay close to that junction.
"You're distracted," Dinah said, closing the distance.
"Just tired," I lied, my eyes locked on her lead foot.
I needed a way to bridge the gap between that cable and my ring without triggering a "Containment Breach" alarm. If I could create a microscopic, high-density green-light needle—something too small for their scanners to register as a "construct"—and drive it through the floor into the conduit...
"Ring," I thought, as Dinah threw a flurry of jabs I barely managed to parry. "Can you channel a high-voltage arc through a localized construct 'bridge' without venting heat?"
"Risk of terminal feedback: 42%. Efficiency of storage: 12%. Recommendation: Do not attempt."
"I didn't ask for a recommendation," I grunted, catching Dinah's wrist and using her momentum to toss her—a move I'd just seen her use on a training bot in my memory banks.
She flipped mid-air and landed on her feet, grinning. "Okay. You've got the eyes. Now let's see if you've got the lungs."
I took a deep breath, the red glow of my eyes reflecting off the polished floor. I had to time this. One minute of 'combat,' one second of contact with the power line.
I just needed to make sure I didn't blow the floor out from under us.