The CatMan

The night sky split with the roar of engines and the clash of metal.

A teenager in a sleek, black stealth suit clung desperately to a massive mechanical wing, his body dangling hundreds of feet above the city. The suit held a lot to say — black as shadow, with glowing green accents tracing along the seams. His fingers ended in sharp, neon-green claws that scraped against the wing's armor as he held on. The helmet he wore had pointed ears and luminous green eyes, giving him an unmistakably feline silhouette. A long, flexible tail swayed behind him, adjusting to every shift in weight to keep him steady.

The people below only knew him by one name: the CatMan.

Above him, his nemesis twisted through the air, armored in black and crimson. His suit was a metallic exoskeleton, jagged like it had been built to tear through anything in its path. The helmet resembled a predatory bird, with sharp, angular features and blazing red eyes. His wings stretched wide, massive and blade-like, lined with hidden weapons that hummed with energy.

Ravok.

"I heard cats hate heights," Ravok sneered, twisting sharply to try and shake CatMan off. "Looks like that's true."

CatMan tightened his grip, his claws digging into the metal. "Funny. I thought birds liked freedom, but here you are playing lapdog for a corporation."

Ravok laughed, a harsh, metallic sound that echoed through the night. "Cute. Let's see if you land on your feet." He banked hard, slamming CatMan into a rooftop antenna. The impact sent sparks flying as the metal crumpled, and CatMan's body jolted with pain. His vision blurred for a second, but he refused to let go.

Because he always held on.

And then —

Wait. Hold on.

Why is a teenager in a cat suit fighting a maniac in weaponized bird armor?

Let's go back. Let's rewind

Back to when it all began :

Chapter 01 : A noble Dream...

The room smelled like stale coffee and old paper. A crooked clock ticked on the wall, each second dragging out longer than the last. Sebastian Spencer's parents sat across from the guidance counselor, the tension in the air so thick it made the tiny office feel even smaller.

His mother, Dr. Evelyn Spencer, sat rigidly upright. She wore her usual hospital scrubs, her dark hair pulled into a tight bun. The faint shadows under her eyes told a story of long night shifts and a relentless work ethic. She tapped her fingers on the edge of the chair, her knuckles white.

Sebastian's father, Robert Spencer, slouched beside her. His wrinkled flannel shirt smelled faintly of cigarette smoke, and he kept rubbing his face like he was trying to stay awake. He hadn't shaved in days, and the gray creeping into his beard made him look older than he was.

The guidance counselor, Mrs. Callahan, sighed as she flipped through Sebastian's file. Her glasses slid down her nose, and she pushed them back up with a tired finger.

"Sebastian's grades are... concerning," she said, choosing her words carefully. "He's barely passing his science courses, and his math scores are far below what's needed for a competitive university program."

Evelyn's jaw tightened. "He's just distracted. He used to want to be a doctor."

Sebastian, standing just outside the office, froze. His fingers curled around the strap of his backpack, knuckles going pale. Used to?

Robert let out a quiet grunt. "Told you," he muttered, not looking at anyone in particular.

Evelyn shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. "And what exactly have you done to help him?"

Robert threw his hands up. "What do you want me to do? Take his exams for him?"

Sebastian couldn't take it anymore. He pushed the door open without knocking, the old wood creaking on its hinges.

"I'm right here, you know," he said, voice tight.

Evelyn turned to him, her face softening just a fraction. "Seb, we're just trying to figure out what's best for you."

Sebastian leaned against the doorframe, his dark hoodie hanging loosely over his thin frame. His messy black hair fell into his eyes, but he made no effort to push it back. His chest ached, but he masked it with frustration.

"What's best for me? Or what makes you feel better?" he shot back, staring directly at his mom. "I get it, okay? I'm not good enough. I'm never gonna be a doctor like you."

His voice cracked on the last word, and he hated himself for it.

Evelyn stood, reaching out like she wanted to hug him. "Seb, no. That's not what I meant—"

Sebastian took a step back, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter."

He turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind him.

The hallway stretched out in front of him, lined with faded posters about college applications and mental health hotlines. His chest felt tight, like his ribs were pressing against his heart. He stuffed his hands into his hoodie pockets and walked, each step heavier than the last.

He hated how much he cared.

He hated that he still wanted to be a doctor.

And he hated that no matter how hard he tried, it was never enough.

Sebastian stopped by a broken water fountain, staring at his reflection in the dented metal. His own face barely looked like his — dark circles under his eyes, skin pale from too many sleepless nights. He rubbed his thumb over a scratch on the fountain's surface, eyes distant.

"I just wanted to help people," he whispered to himself, his voice barely more than a breath.

Since he was a kid, he'd always wanted to save people. When his mom came home exhausted after double shifts, he'd bring her water and sit by her side until she fell asleep. When his dad spiraled deeper into his failures, Sebastian still tried to believe in him. He'd carried that hope with him for as long as he could remember.

He thought if he became a doctor, he could finally do something good. Something real.

But it feels impossible now.

"Helping people is harder than I thought."

He pressed his forehead against the cold metal of the fountain, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Not everyone can be a hero."

The words lingered in the empty hallway, heavy like chains around his chest.

He pushed away from the fountain and kept walking, each step echoing through the quiet school.

It was easier to walk away than to keep hoping.

Sebastian slammed his locker shut, the metallic clang echoing down the crowded hallway. He stood there for a second, forehead resting against the cool metal, trying to push down the knot of frustration tightening in his chest.

"Dude, you look like you just got hit by a bus," a familiar voice piped up.

Sebastian turned to see Tom, his best friend and roommate, weaving through the sea of students like he owned the place. He had his skateboard tucked under one arm and wore a hoodie two sizes too big, the sleeves practically swallowing his hands. His messy brown hair stuck out from beneath his snapback, and his sneakers were scuffed to oblivion.

Sebastian sighed. "More like a freight train."

Tom leaned against the lockers, spinning his skateboard idly by one wheel. "What happened?"

Sebastian kicked the floor, staring at his worn-out shoes. "Guidance counselor. She said my grades aren't good enough for med school."

Tom winced. "Ouch."

Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah. Apparently, saving lives requires more than just wanting it."

Tom shrugged. "Or maybe they just haven't seen your impressive ability to stay awake through physics class. That's gotta count for something."

Sebastian chuckled, shaking his head. "If only."

Tom nudged him with his elbow. "Hey, you still coming to my place tomorrow?"

Sebastian nodded. "Yeah. My dad's driving me over this afternoon."

"Cool," Tom said, kicking off the lockers. "We can talk about college stuff, or play games and pretend college doesn't exist."

Sebastian smiled faintly. "Option B sounds pretty tempting."

They started walking down the hallway together, navigating through the crowd.

"Oh, by the way," Tom said, flipping his skateboard onto the floor and hopping on, gliding next to Sebastian as he walked. "My family's going on a trip next week. Camping or something."

Sebastian arched his brow. "Camping?"

"Yeah, my mom's been on this 'nature heals the soul' kick," Tom said, swerving to avoid a group of freshmen. "I'm pretty sure she just wants me to suffer without Wi-Fi."

Sebastian smirked. "Might do you some good."

Tom scoffed. "If a bear eats me, you're giving my eulogy."

Sebastian laughed, and for a moment, he almost forgot about the weight on his shoulders.

"Oh!" Tom spun around on his board and started rolling backward, facing Sebastian. "Before I become bear food, wanna hit the skatepark after that trip, huh?, You need to blow off steam."

Sebastian hesitated, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets. "I'm trash at skating."

Tom grinned. "I know. That's what makes it fun."

Sebastian rolled his eyes, but the thought of doing something — anything — to get his mind off everything sounded appealing.

"Alright," he said. "I'm in."

"Sweet! Next week is gonna be legendary," Tom said, spinning his skateboard on one wheel like he was already planning a victory lap.

Before Sebastian could respond, the school speakers crackled to life with a sharp buzz, and a voice echoed through the hallway.

"Attention students: We are thrilled to announce an upcoming school trip to the Biolognix Research Facility. This is a rare opportunity to explore cutting-edge scientific advancements and witness real-world applications of biotechnology."

Sebastian's heart skipped a beat.

"During the visit, selected students will have the chance to meet world-renowned biologist and lead researcher, Dr. Edward Prescott, the pioneer of bioelectric energy integration and genetic manipulation."

Sebastian's chest tightened with excitement. Edward Prescott. The scientist who changed the world.

Prescott had developed an energy source capable of stimulating dormant genes, allowing animal DNA to merge with human cells — but that wasn't what fascinated Sebastian most. The technology was already being used to regenerate spinal tissue, repair organs, and treat previously incurable conditions. People who had been told they'd never walk again were taking their first steps because of Prescott's research.

That was what Sebastian wanted. To help people. To save lives.

He bit his lip, already imagining shaking Prescott's hand, maybe even telling him how much he'd inspired him to become a doctor.

"However," the voice continued, "due to the facility's strict safety regulations, only students with an average of 16 or higher in both mathematics and physics will be eligible to attend."

Sebastian's stomach dropped like a stone.

"Just my luck," he muttered, rubbing his face with both hands.

Tom snorted. "That sounds like the most boring trip ever. Walking through a lab full of nerds while some dude with a bad haircut talks about DNA?"

Sebastian turned to him, eyes wide. "Are you kidding me? Edward Prescott is a genius. He literally developed a way to use bioelectric energy to fuse animal DNA with human cells. But more than that — he found a way to stimulate cellular regeneration. He's giving people their lives back. They've already used his research to help paralyzed patients walk again. Imagine what that could mean for people with heart disease or cancer or —"

Tom held up a hand like he was physically stopping the lecture. "Okay, okay, I get it. He's smart. Still boring."

Sebastian sighed, the excitement draining out of him. "If I could just meet him..."

A soft, familiar voice cut through their conversation.

"Speaking of boring..."

Sebastian turned, and his expression immediately softened.

Clair.

She wheeled herself toward them, effortlessly weaving through the crowded hallway. Her dark brown hair was tied in a loose ponytail, and her green eyes sparkled with mischief.

"It'd be boring without you two," she said with a grin. "You're coming, right?"

Tom chuckled, balancing his skateboard on one foot. "Clair, you know my level in math and physics. This trip is not my place."

Clair smirked. "What about you, SB?"

Sebastian stuffed his hands into his hoodie pockets. "Yeah... about that."

Tom glanced at him, then looked away, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

Sebastian shifted his weight, trying to keep his voice casual. "Let's just say... my math test didn't exactly scream 'future doctor.'"

Clair's smile faltered, her teasing demeanor slipping away. She knew how much it meant to him — how hard he tried.

Clair reached out and poked Sebastian's arm, snapping him out of the spiral. "Hey. How about you come over for dinner tonight? My mom's making chicken parmesan, and afterward, we can play video games or read comics. Or you can hang out with Daniel for a bit."

Sebastian snorted. "Come on. Your mom hates me."

Clair tilted her head, her smile gentle. "Not when I'm around."

Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know. It's weird with Daniel now. He doesn't even answer my texts."

Clair's smile faded a little, but she tried to keep her tone light. "He misses you, SB. He just... gets caught up in stuff. You know how he is."

Sebastian did know. Daniel had been acting strange lately — disappearing for days, showing up with bruises he wouldn't explain. But whenever Sebastian asked, Daniel would just ruffle his hair and say, "Don't worry about it, kid."

Their family situation was... messy.

Sebastian's dad, Robert Spencer, used to be married to Jennifer — Clair and Daniel's mom. But Robert walked out on them when Daniel was a kid, leaving Jennifer to raise him alone. A few months after Robert left, Jennifer found out she was pregnant with Clair.

Then Robert married Evelyn, and they had Sebastian.

Jennifer never hid how she felt about Sebastian. He was a reminder of the man who abandoned her. She barely looked at him when he came over, and when she did, her eyes held this sharp edge — like he was an intruder in her life.

But her husband, Officer Marcus, was the opposite. He treated Sebastian like he belonged, even when Jennifer shot him looks for it. Marcus would ask about school, crack lame dad jokes, and always made sure Sebastian got a plate at dinner.

Sebastian wasn't sure why Marcus cared so much. Maybe he just liked fixing broken things.

Or maybe he felt bad that Sebastian was part of the wreckage.

"Dinner sounds good," Sebastian finally said, his voice quiet.

Clair beamed. "Great. And after dinner, you can help me convince Mom to let me paint flames on my wheelchair."

Tom grinned. "And I can eat your share of lasagna."

Sebastian chuckled, shaking his head.

For the first time that day, he almost felt okay.

Sebastian and Tom step out of the school building, the afternoon sun stretching long shadows across the pavement. Robert's beat-up car waits by the curb, smoke curling lazily from the half-burnt cigarette hanging from his fingers. His face looks even more worn out than usual — dark circles, sunken cheeks, and skin that looks like it's been permanently stained by nicotine.

Tom squints. "Man, your dad's face gets worse every time I see him. He should really quit smoking before he turns into a raisin."

Sebastian forces a chuckle, adjusting the straps of his backpack. "Nah, he's going for a Guinness World Record. Oldest living chimney."

They laugh, though there's a bitter edge to Sebastian's voice.

Tom stretches, cracking his neck. "Alright, catch you later, man. Gonna walk home and pretend to care about homework."

Sebastian watches as Tom turns to leave, but Robert suddenly calls out, voice rasping like sandpaper.

"Hey, Tom! Let's give you a ride home, man!"

Tom freezes. "Oh boy," he mutters, reluctantly spinning around with an awkward smile. "Uh... sure, Mr. Spencer. Love a free ride."

The car rattles down the street, the engine coughing like it's begging for retirement. The windows are cracked open to let the smoke out, though it barely helps. Robert drums his fingers on the wheel, humming to a song playing faintly on the static-filled radio.

"So, Tommy boy," Robert says, glancing at Tom through the rearview mirror. "What do you wanna do in college?"

Tom leans back, propping his feet up on the seat. "Honestly, no clue, sir. College looks expensive, you know? Maybe I'll invest in crypto. Or join a football team. Ooh — or open a small local animal shop."

Sebastian rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath, "Yeah, yeah, sure, Tom."

Robert bursts out laughing, the kind of laugh that echoes through the car and rattles Sebastian's bones. "I love this guy! You should think like your friend, Sebastian. You shouldn't even bother with college."

Sebastian stares out the window, voice dry as ash. "So funny, Dad."

Robert shrugs, flicking his cigarette ash into an old fast-food cup. "Hey, I'm just saying. College is too expensive. Your poor old dad can't afford that."

The words hit Sebastian like a punch to the gut. His chest tightens, and before he can stop himself, the words slip out like venom.

"Maybe if you got a job and stopped letting Mom do everything."

The car goes dead silent.

Robert's grip on the wheel tightens, knuckles white. He doesn't look at Sebastian — just keeps his eyes glued to the road, jaw clenched so hard it might crack.

Tom clears his throat. "Psst. Dude, you really messed that up."

They pull up to Tom's street, and Robert brakes harder than necessary.

"Welp. This is your stop, Tom."

Tom slides out of the car, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thanks for the ride, Mr. Spencer. See you later, Seb."

The door shuts, and the car lurches back onto the road. Now it's just Sebastian and Robert, the air thick enough to choke on.

Sebastian swallows hard, staring at his shoes. "...Sorry about that, Dad."

Robert waves a hand like he's swatting the apology away. "Nah, it's okay. It's okay." He lights another cigarette, the lighter's flicker briefly illuminating his face.

Sebastian watches him from the corner of his eye, biting his tongue. "Seriously?" he mutters under his breath.

He finally speaks up, voice quieter. "Dad, when are you gonna quit smoking?"

Robert doesn't answer. Just exhales a cloud of smoke and changes the subject like nothing happened.

"You still hang out with Daniel?"

Sebastian nods slowly. "Yeah... we hang out sometimes."

"What about Clair?" Robert's voice softens, almost hesitant.

Sebastian laughs bitterly. "Do you even care?"

Robert winces but stays quiet.

Sebastian exhales, rubbing his eyes. "She's fine, I guess. She's gonna be a doctor. I'm invited to dinner at her place tonight."

Robert's fingers twitch on the steering wheel. "Oh... well, if so... can you please—"

"No, Dad. She won't want to see you." Sebastian's voice cracks. "Daniel might. But not her."

Robert doesn't push it. He just drives, cigarette burning down to the filter.

Sebastian leans his head against the window, watching the city blur past. "Okay, why am I not staying in student housing this weekend again?"

Robert chuckles dryly. "We gotta talk college stuff, kid. And... didn't you miss your mom and dad?"

Sebastian closes his eyes, voice barely a whisper. "...Yeah. I do."

They finally reached home.

The car rattled to a stop in front of the old house, headlights casting long shadows across the porch. The paint was peeling, the screen door hung a little crooked, and the porch light flickered like it couldn't decide whether to stay on or give up entirely.

Sebastian stepped out without a word, slamming the door shut. Robert followed, stuffing his hands in his jacket pockets as he walked up to the door.

The moment Sebastian cracked the door open, a small black blur shot out of the shadows and launched itself at his leg.

"Mister Whiskerbottom!" Sebastian dropped to his knees, scooping up the black cat with vibrant green eyes.

The cat purred loudly, rubbing its face against Sebastian's chin, completely ignoring Robert.

"You miss me, little guy?" Sebastian scratched behind the cat's ears as Mister Whiskerbottom let out a dramatic, drawn-out meow.

"That cat's the only one excited to see us," Robert muttered, stepping inside and kicking off his shoes.

Sebastian just buried his face in the cat's fur for a moment before standing up, carrying him into the house.

The living room was a mess — a half-empty bag of chips on the table, crumpled newspapers scattered across the couch, and an old TV playing some crime drama on low volume.

"Sebastian, is that you?" a voice called from the kitchen.

"Yeah, Mom," Sebastian said, setting Mister Whiskerbottom down. The cat immediately hopped onto the couch, curling into a ball like he owned the place.

His mom walked in, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. She looked tired, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, her scrubs wrinkled like she'd been on her feet for twelve hours straight — because she probably had.

"Did you talk to your teacher about your college applications?" she asked, her voice laced with exhaustion.

"I'm figuring it out," Sebastian mumbled, kicking off his shoes.

"Figuring it out?" she frowned. "You graduate in a few months, Sebastian. This isn't something you can push off."

Robert snorted from the couch, lighting another cigarette. "What's the point of college anyway? Just a fancy way to go broke."

Sebastian groaned internally. Here we go.

"Robert, not tonight," his mom sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"What? I'm just saying what everyone's thinking," Robert shrugged. "The kid barely goes to class. Maybe he should start looking for a job instead of chasing dreams he can't afford."

Sebastian clenched his jaw, staring at the floor.

"He needs a future, Robert," his mom snapped. "Unlike you, he wants more for himself than sitting on a couch all day."

"I worked plenty before my back went out," Robert shot back. "Sorry I'm not a superhero like you, saving lives and all."

"That's not fair, and you know it," she hissed . "I'm the only reason this family still has a roof over its head."

Sebastian dropped his bag on the floor with a loud thud.

"That's enough. Both of you."

The room fell into heavy silence.

Mister Whiskerbottom lifted his head, blinking slowly at them before flopping back down.

"I'm so sick of this," Sebastian muttered, voice shaking with frustration. "You guys fight like it's a hobby. Maybe if you spent half that energy actually fixing things, we wouldn't be living like this."

Robert scoffed. "Oh, give me a break—"

"No, Dad!" Sebastian snapped, his voice echoing through the room. "Maybe if you got a job, Mom wouldn't have to work herself into the ground. Maybe if you acted like a father, I wouldn't feel like a babysitter. And maybe — just maybe — if you stopped pretending everything's a joke, I wouldn't feel like I'm the only one who cares about this family."

Robert opened his mouth but didn't say anything.

Sebastian grabbed his jacket and stormed toward the door.

"I'm going to Clair's," he muttered, yanking the door open.

"Seb—" his mom started, but he was already gone.

Mister Whiskerbottom let out another tiny meow.

Robert sighed, leaning back on the couch and blowing out a cloud of smoke. He stared at the ceiling for a long moment, the flickering TV light casting shadows across his face.

"Dramatic, huh?" he muttered. But his voice wasn't biting this time — just hollow.

From the kitchen, the sink turned on. Dishes clinked together, the water running longer than necessary.

Robert glanced toward the doorway, where Evelyn stood, her back to him as she scrubbed the same plate over and over. Her shoulders were tense, shaking slightly, like she was holding something in.

Robert rubbed his face, groaning. "I don't know how to talk to him," he admitted, voice low.

Evelyn dried the plate with sharp, jerky movements. "Maybe try being his father instead of his drinking buddy," she said, her voice quieter than usual, but every word hit like a hammer.

Robert flinched, turning his gaze back to the TV. "He hates me."

Evelyn sighed, setting the plate down carefully — like she was afraid it might shatter. She leaned against the counter, rubbing her tired eyes. "He doesn't hate you, Robert."

"Sure feels like it."

Evelyn hesitated, biting her lip. "He just wants you to try," she whispered, her voice breaking at the edges.

Robert swallowed hard, staring at the door Sebastian had slammed shut. His fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for another cigarette — but he didn't.

Instead, he looked at Mister Whiskerbottom, who was kneading the couch cushions with his paws, purring softly.

Robert let out a bitter chuckle, scratching the back of his neck.

"Me too, kid," he whispered...