By Nora Roberts
### Shadows and Sparks

In the heart of a sprawling metropolis, where skyscrapers loomed like vigilant sentinels, a storm brewed. Not of nature, but one born of clashing titans—superheroes wrapped in the armor of their very identities. Two forces converged at the edge of the city’s forgotten district, where the remnants of old glory met the shadows of despair.

Batmensch stood on the rooftop, an imposing figure silhouetted against a thunderous sky. His presence resonated with supernatural energy, his cape billowing like a dark shroud. The son of a beloved doctor, he bore the weight of loss and vengeance on his shoulders. Each night, he donned his armor not just for justice, but as a tribute to the man who had once healed the broken.

And then there was Retired, a name that echoed through the annals of heroism, now burdened with the sting of his fall from grace. Clad in advanced technology that thrummed with energy, Retired faced his younger adversary with a hard stare. The “God of Chaos” once commanded respect and admiration; now, retirement wrapped around him like chains. He felt the weight of history pressing down, holding him back rather than propelling him forward.

As Batmensch descended from the rooftop, a mystical aura cloaked him, fueling his resolve. “Retired!” he called, his voice a deep rumble that cracked through the tension like thunder. “This city needs saving from your chaos. You’ve lost your way!”

Retired scoffed, adjusting the visor of his helmet, which flickered with digital readouts. “You think you can topple an icon with your theatrics?” He braced himself, the pulse of his technological core igniting with a vibrant glow. “I’ve faced gods and monsters! You’re just a boy playing hero!”

And with that, the battle commenced. Batmensch surged forward, cloaked in shadows that blurred his silhouette, striking with the swiftness of a phantom. Retired countered, sending a barrage of plasma bolts dancing through the air. The brilliance of technology met the dark allure of the supernatural, each clash reverberating through the night.

As sparks flew and shadows danced, a strange realization took shape amidst the chaos. There was a depth to Retired’s resentment; this wasn’t just about losing a fight or a title. No, it was about his struggle to accept that the world had moved on, leaving him behind. Batmensch, in contrast, was an embodiment of hope and resilience, fueled by a tragic past that gave him a fierce determination to protect the innocent.

But it was clear that Batmensch was no ordinary hero. His powers surged with the ferocity of the flame that burned inside him. He dodged, weaved, and countered, drawing strength from the darkness that had once consumed him. With every blow he landed, he sought not only victory but also to awaken Retired from the bitterness that shrouded him.

“Fight with me!” Batmensch shouted amidst the writhing chaos. “You don’t have to be alone in this!”

Retired gritted his teeth, his heart fraying with the realization that this battle was not merely physical. It was a dance of souls, one trying to save the other from himself. But with each attempt to reconcile, Retired's pride swelled obstinately. He couldn’t let this young hero’s resolve break him down. “I don’t need saving!” he roared defiantly as he unleashed a final volley of energy.

But it was not enough. Batmensch, with one powerful blow infused with the supernatural, broke through Retired’s defenses, sending him crashing to the ground. The city trembled beneath the weight of the victor.

As the dust settled, Batmensch stood victorious, a guardian of the night. He looked down at Retired, who lay there, breathless and defeated. The young hero’s heart ached not for the win but for the pain that clung to his opponent.

“Your story isn’t over,” Batmensch said softly, a promise woven into the night. “You can still find your place among us.”

But Retired simply turned his head away, the shadows of his past too heavy to bear. “I’m not the hero you think I am, Batmensch.”

With that, the battle dissolved into a silence that echoed louder than their conflict. Batmensch’s heart swelled with a mixture of pride for his win and sorrow for the man who once stood among the elite. He would carry this moment, this encounter, along with the reminder that every hero—every soul—had their struggles.

As Colony 5¹ celebrated their victory, Batmensch stood apart, gazing out over the city. In the depths of his spirit, he knew that true power lay not only in the ability to fight but in the courage to extend a hand and mend what was broken. One day, he hoped, Retired would find that strength within himself once more. Until then, their fates would remain intertwined in the fabric of heroes—both battling their demons in their own way.