"No more dangerous than jumping into a vat of chemicals," Pamela replied dryly, her fingers still dancing across the keyboard. She only glanced briefly at the scattered notes on the desk before her, half with focus and half with irritation.

"Huh, in that case there's nothing to worry about!" Quinzel jumped up, clapping her hands together in relief. "Phew! Honestly, I was imagining the worst after all that ominous talk. Pamela, you really picked an unfortunate example. Do you even hear yourself sometimes?" She pressed a palm to her forehead dramatically, then broke into a grin. "Eh, never mind! I'll just move on from it."

I had already begun peeling off my T-shirt, exposing my torso. The reflection staring back at me wasn't the weakened husk I had been upon my first arrival in this strange world. Back then, my body had been frail, undernourished, and pitiful. Now, after months of relentless daily training and strict discipline, I stood tall with the build of a natural athlete. Muscles stretched firmly across my frame, not bulky like a bodybuilder's, but lean, precise, and proportionate—an ideal blend of strength and agility.

The transformation was not accidental, but the direct result of dedication, sweat, and sacrifice. The physique I bore today was a testament to resilience. That's why I held no fear about the serum sabotaging it. Unlike Steve Rogers, who had started as a fragile, sickly young man, I already possessed a formidable physical foundation. The question that gnawed at the back of my mind was intriguing: Would this give me an advantage? Would the serum, with a stronger base to work off, elevate me even further than Captain America himself? Or was it irrelevant—that the serum simply amplified whatever was present, leveling every body into its own version of perfection?

These unanswered questions burned in my head as I stepped into the capsule. Cold metal surrounded me as sensors clamped against my wrists and neck, quietly preparing to inject the shimmering blue liquid into my bloodstream.

The very foundation of the super-soldier serum lay in its principle of reinforcing molecular density within cellular fibers—skin, muscle, and bone—by weaving in synthetic proteins. In theory, it didn't just strengthen existing fibers but refined them, sharpening all aspects of the human body at once. Muscular endurance, strength, resilience… every measure of physical capability enhanced to its potential limit.

And beyond that, it would do something even greater. The serum would ignite metabolic, chemical, and regenerative processes at the cellular level. My body would become a living engine of recovery. Exhaustion, injury, even illness—diminished, maybe obliterated. No chemical stimulants, no external medicines required. Just pure self-contained vitality.

That promise, that vision of what lay ahead, filled me with an intoxicating anticipation that overshadowed all else. How could I not be thrilled at the idea of stepping over the threshold into something more than human? For the first time in years, I was trembling not from fear but from a kind of wild, feverish excitement.

And yet… oddly enough, fear never surfaced. It eluded me completely, like a language my mind could no longer understand.

"Ready?" came Bruce's deep, measured voice, as he approached the capsule.

"Since birth," I answered with a confident grin, as I adjusted myself within the narrow space. My back pressed against its biting edges, and I sighed. "Though I must say, you could've made the inside of this thing a little more comfortable."

"Forgive me," Bats shrugged with his usual dry humor. "It's the best I could arrange for now."

"Not scared?"

"I'm not afraid of anything, Bruce." I paused, my voice softening slightly. "Sometimes, to be honest, it unsettles me. People should feel fear in moments like these—fear for their survival. But me? The sensation just isn't there. I can feel tension, maybe a sliver of apprehension… but actual fear? No."

Bruce looked at me quietly for a moment, expression unreadable. Then he said, "That, Alex, is a gift. A rare one. No one escapes fear completely. Not even me."

I laughed. "Come on. You? The man without panic? You're Batman. I don't believe for a second there's anything you're afraid of."

"I hide it well," he admitted, his voice low. "But fear's still there. It always is. I bury it, cover it under resolve, yet it creeps. And I know… someday I may stumble, confront something in the depths of my memory I've kept locked away. And when that happens, it may swallow me whole. That is human fate, Alex. Everyone carries at least one fear, no matter how far they run. Everyone—except you. You should be grateful."

The honesty, almost fragility, behind his words caught me off guard. Still, I answered without hesitation. "If I had the chance to be ordinary again? To feel fear, to surrender to it? No way. Without this absence, Bruce, I would've lost my mind a long time ago. I'd probably be locked in Arkham already, sipping tea with Joker while losing track of reality. My fearlessness is the one shield that keeps me sane."

A faint smirk flickered across his hardened features. "Then you already have your answer," he murmured, stepping back toward the control panel. "Don't mourn what you lack. Instead, thank fate for what you possess."

I raised a hand inside the capsule in mock reverence. "Your wisdom humbles me, sensei. I'd kneel with folded hands—but forgive me, I'm a bit strapped at the moment."

Barbara, standing near the others, visibly fretted. "Alex, what if something goes wrong? What if this changes you in ways we can't undo?"

Her panic almost cracked my calm demeanor, but I remained steady. "Barbara, we have Kavita. She's brilliant, one of the most precise doctors alive. And besides, Ivy's hybrid healing plants are hovering through every hall of Babylon. Their spores monitor and accelerate recovery. I'm surrounded on all sides."

"You and I both know," Dr. Rao interrupted firmly, "that none of those are certainties. Alex, arrogance is the last thing you can afford right now."

"Still… my instincts tell me this will work. I trust them. They've rarely failed me."

Silence hung heavy for a beat. Around me stood Kavita, Pamela, Harley, Sasha, Barbara, forming an anxious semicircle. Bruce lingered at the edge, one finger poised near the activation.

"So," Batman repeated, his tone flat but weighted. "This is it. Final call. Are you ready?"

"Let's go." My voice cut through the hush.

The capsule sealed shut. Darkness swallowed me whole.

If I were telling this for dramatic flair, I could exaggerate how my chest tightened, how sweat pearled across my brow, how my pulse thundered faster and faster. But that would be a lie. The truth was different. My breathing never faltered. My mind stayed clear, anchored by an unshakable calm. That's the strength of the "player's mind"—a gift that lets me remain in control even when ordinary men would crumble.

But serenity didn't make me numb. Quite the opposite—I felt everything. Euphoria blazed through me like fire as the serum's liquid spread into my veins. Each drop felt… right, as though something long-lost was returning home where it belonged.

Then came the irradiation.

White-hot agony ripped through every nerve in an instant, so fierce and raw that a scream tore unbidden from my throat. For that one, endless second, it was hell itself. But as quickly as it struck, the pain passed—like a storm vanishing from a clear sky—replaced by the deepest peace I had ever known.

That peace gave way to a strange weakness. My body sagged heavily, as fragile as an infant's. All power had drained out of me, leaving me helpless. Each heartbeat felt like a mountain endured.

But I accepted it. I knew this emptiness was the precursor to rebirth.

And I was right.

Moments later, strength rushed back—renewed, reshaped. My body transformed, cell by cell. By the time the capsule cracked open again, spilling light across my face, I felt as though my lungs were drawing their very first breaths in a new existence.

Kavita rushed forward instantly, shining her medical flashlight into my pupils. "Alex! Can you hear me? Do you see this? Follow the light!"

"Yes, I'm fine," I answered, squinting at the glare. "And please, stop trying to blind me in the process."

The light retreated, and as my pupils adjusted, something else flickered alive—glowing text across my vision, messages from the silent system woven into the essence of my being:

{Your body has undergone forced modification. Physical, mental, and spiritual parameters enhanced. Passive skill acquired: [Super Soldier].

Result: Comprehensive development achieved.

+10 free characteristic points.

+1 achievement point.}

I exhaled slowly, absorbing not just the words but the truth behind them. I wasn't the same as before.

I had been reborn.

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