Damn it, I’m surrounded by those who kill their fathers!

"Lock-on confirmed! Target acquired!"

The fighter pilot reported through the radio to his superiors.

"Confirmed—fire!"

General Lane issued the command with a grim expression.

With a loud "whoosh," a missile detached from the belly of the jet, trailing a fiery tail as it sped toward the "Fireman."

A deafening explosion followed, engulfing the forest in thick smoke and searing flames.

The ground trembled slightly from the blast, and the acrid smell of burning filled the air. General Lane immediately raised his binoculars to observe the aftermath.

To his astonishment, not only was the "Fireman" still alive, but another figure had inexplicably appeared beside him.

Coughing violently and clutching his chest, the Fireman knelt on the ground, his body shaking uncontrollably.

Although the explosion hadn't killed him, it had inflicted severe injuries.

His body ached, his heart pounded erratically, and the flames surrounding him began to dim.

As he glanced fearfully at the roaring jet overhead, the corner of his eye caught sight of someone walking steadily through the blazing inferno toward him.

The Fireman's eyes widened in disbelief.

A human—completely unharmed by the fire—was calmly approaching him!

"Stop! Don't come any closer!" he yelled, his voice trembling with fear. "Please! I don't want to hurt you!"

The figure halted and looked at him, his expression calm.

"You seem scared. Don't worry, I won't hurt you," the man reassured him.

"And—truthfully—you can't hurt me either."

The man approached the burning Fireman, ignoring the flames, and extended a hand toward him.

"Mind if we get acquainted?"

The Fireman stared at the offered hand, bewildered. "How... how are you...?"

"Let's just say I have certain... talents," the man replied.

"Who are you? Why are you here?" he asked, his voice gentle but firm.

The Fireman clutched his head in agony. "I don't know who I am! I don't know why I'm here! I don't even understand what's happening to me!"

The man listened carefully, noting the rapid pulse visible in the Fireman's neck and the rising temperature around them that seemed to match his escalating distress.

"I suspect your temperature is linked to your stress levels," the man speculated. "The flames consuming you might be a reaction to the military's attack."

He was beginning to piece things together, suspecting that the wildfire had been caused entirely by this young man.

To uncover the truth, he needed to keep him calm.

The Fireman lifted his tear-streaked face, his voice trembling. "I... I'm so scared."

"I understand. Close your eyes. Breathe deeply," the man instructed.

Placing a hand on the flaming shoulder, he continued, "Just focus on breathing. Nothing else."

At his touch, the Fireman's panic subsided, and the flames covering his body began to flicker and die down.

Moments later, the fire extinguished completely, revealing a bald teenage boy, naked and shivering.

The man took off his coat and draped it over the boy's shoulders.

The boy, now calm, looked at him gratefully. "Thank you, sir."

Glancing at the scorched forest around them, he added, guilt evident in his voice, "I... I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to cause all this."

The man cast a glance at the soldiers in the distance. "Let's talk about this somewhere safe."

Meanwhile, General Lane, observing through his binoculars, watched as the pair disappeared without warning.

"What the hell just happened?!" Lane muttered, baffled.

Back in Metropolis, Peter brought the boy to the now-recovered Martian Manhunter.

After a brief conversation, the Martian Manhunter had a clearer understanding of the boy's origins.

"He doesn't remember his name. All he knows is that he escaped from a lab," the Martian Manhunter explained.

"I scanned his fragmented memories and found that the lab is located in Gotham's Indian Hill. It's a secret facility conducting illegal experiments, controlled by a shadowy organization."

Peter nodded thoughtfully. "The Court of Owls, I presume?"

The Martian Manhunter looked weary but confirmed, "You're right. They're behind it. They've been using the boy's blood in attempts to develop some kind of viral serum for deployment."

"They're planning to destroy Gotham?" Peter asked, his tone grave.

"It's possible. This boy was their weapon. He escaped to the forest in a panic, unintentionally starting the wildfire."

"And then the government found out about him and sent the military to capture him," Peter added, piecing it together.

"Exactly," the Martian Manhunter said, munching on a cookie. "But why would they want to replace Bruce Wayne?"

Peter didn't answer immediately, his expression unreadable. "Maybe Bruce is critical to their plans."

After a pause, he shifted the topic. "The boy's powers make him valuable—and dangerous. Can your telepathy keep him stable?"

The Martian Manhunter nodded. "For now, his emotions are under control."

Peter's mind, however, was already strategizing. While he trusted the Martian Manhunter, he believed in always having a contingency plan. The boy's fire-based powers could serve as a counterbalance should the need arise.

Elsewhere in the base, Azu intercepted Bruce in the hallway.

"Hey, Bruce!" Azu called out.

"What do you want?" Bruce grumbled, clearly annoyed at being addressed by the child who had recently pummeled him.

"Sorry about earlier," Azu said with surprising sincerity. "Dad scolded me, and I realize I was wrong. Anyway... I heard you used to be rich in Gotham. Is that true?"

"It is," Bruce replied cautiously, suspicious of the boy's intentions.

"So... you're not some poor kid; you're just a fallen aristocrat?"

"I'm not a fallen aristocrat!" Bruce snapped, irritation flickering in his eyes.

"But you were rich, right?" Azu's lips curled into a smile that Peter would have recognized all too well. "In that case, Bruce, maybe we could stop being enemies and become actual friends."

"Not interested."

Bruce turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Azu glaring at his back. The boy's false smile melted into a scowl.

"John?" Peter's voice called from the distance.

"Coming, Dad!" Azu replied, instantly switching back to a cheerful demeanor as he bounded away.

In the common area, Bruce found his attention drawn to the television, which was broadcasting breaking news from Gotham.