The storm had not come with thunder; it arrived silently, slipping through alleyways and whispered names. The criminal underworld, always shifting, always alive, had begun to change. Not with brute force or flamboyant displays—but with a methodical, strategic takeover that felt... surgical. Cities across the East Coast were seeing a new kind of order in the shadows, one not driven by fear alone, but by logic, precision, and an eerie silence that kept even the most hardened gang leaders awake at night.
Jacob, now operating under the moniker "The Question," had returned to Star City not just to recover, but to plan. The training with Deathstroke had sharpened his body into a living weapon, and his mind—already dangerous—had grown even more lethal with every calculation.
In a small, dimly lit room beneath his apartment complex, Jacob laid out the next phase. Across the walls were photographs of key figures—crime lords, weapons dealers, tech runners, underground financiers. Strings connected them, notes annotated with behavioral patterns, strengths, weaknesses, and leverage points. A network being drawn, one that would give him control not through violence, but through flawless structure.
He didn't take over existing organizations—he built around them. Offered solutions to their inefficiencies, tech to make their operations invisible, and algorithms that predicted law enforcement raids. They began to owe him, not out of fear—but because he made them better.
And yet, the ripples could not go unnoticed.
---
In Gotham, the Batcave glowed with low light as the Batcomputer compiled the latest reports. Bruce Wayne, still dressed in the armor of the Bat, stared at the data in silence. Star City. Blüdhaven. Even the Narrows of Gotham. Something was wrong.
"You see it, don't you?" came the voice of Hal Jordan, the Green Lantern, descending into the cave via a streak of green energy. He looked serious, the usual arrogance stripped away by concern.
Bruce nodded once. "I don't know his name yet. But he's there. Like a ghost threading the seams. Crime's up—but sloppiness is down. That's... dangerous."
Hal leaned on the edge of the console, arms crossed. "He's smart. We've seen this in interplanetary syndicates. Structure means power. And he's not just building a gang. He's building a machine."
"A machine that doesn't make mistakes," Bruce said grimly. "I've intercepted communication between former League of Assassins defectors. They're disappearing. Not dying—vanishing. Rumors say they're being recruited. Willingly."
Hal narrowed his eyes. "You think it's Ra's?"
"I think Ra's will notice. And when he does, he'll test him."
"What do you want to do?"
Bruce was quiet for a long moment. "Observe. Watch how it spreads. Every tyrant has a flaw. We just have to find his."
Hal looked unconvinced. "You're saying we just let him build?"
"No," Bruce replied, "we prepare."
---
Meanwhile, Jacob continued his orchestrations. New fronts for laundering money were opened through failing startups he quietly revitalized. Clinics, tech labs, security firms—all legitimate businesses on the surface, but underneath, they were cogs in his network.
He wasn't just building influence—he was building immunity. Every step protected by proxies, legal shielding, and contingency plans designed to counter every known Justice League protocol. For every move they might take, Jacob had calculated five alternatives.
But he knew one thing still lacked.
Mastery. Not just of mind or muscle. But of something ancient—something that transcended logic. The ability to control shadows not just through science, but through myth.
He knew where to go next: Nanda Parbat. The ancient hidden city. The place where warriors became legends—or ghosts. And the man who ruled from the shadows of eternity: Ra's al Ghul.
The next move had to be bold. He wouldn't ask for training.
He would force Ra's to offer it.
---
In the League's inner circle, paranoia began to fester.
Nightwing noticed that his contacts were drying up. Batgirl found that the underground code networks were silent. Even Oracle's access into the grid was being limited—data rerouted, bounced, manipulated. They were being watched.
The League hadn't faced a criminal like this.
Because Jacob wasn't a criminal.
He was becoming something worse.
A new order.
A new question.
And no one—not even Batman—had the answer yet.