It was late at night.
Bane and his henchmen walked through the streets of Gotham's slums, leaving their hideout behind.
Most people imagine a supervillain as someone massive, powerful, and menacing—a hulking brute who looks like he could eat three children for breakfast.
And in this case…
They were right. Bane fits that image perfectly.
Yet, even so, in Gotham, some of the city's most desperate still turned to monsters like him for help.
Like now.
"Can you save my mom?"
A little girl, her eyes wide with fear, clutched a tattered doll as she timidly looked up at the mountain of muscle towering over her. She hugged the doll tightly, matching the shabby, worn state of her clothes.
"My mom has cancer. She needs medicine. She's in so much pain. People say only God can help her."
Her voice trembled as she looked at Bane with hopeful eyes.
"Can you help me?"
Bane raised a hand to stop one of his men from shooing the girl away.
"Where do you live?"
The girl pointed to a dilapidated house behind her.
Bane walked inside.
---
A few minutes later, Bane emerged, wiping blood and brain matter from his hands.
"Your mother will suffer no more... bury her."
"And... stop begging others for help. Pain will find you on its own if you do."
He glanced up at the dark sky, where the stars were hidden beneath a blanket of clouds.
Bane declared softly:
"There is no God here… but Bane is."
The long night stretched on.
---
Gotham's night was eerily quiet, filled with a tomb-like stillness.
The faintly sour smell of gray rainwater mixed with the industrial smog. Underneath the neon lights, the city breathed, as
A car roared down the street, splashing a bystander with a wave of muddy water. The drenched pedestrian immediately pulled out a submachine gun from his coat and began firing at the retreating vehicle. **Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat...**
These Gothamites sure are something.
Deadshot shook his head as he casually pulled out an anti-tank rocket launcher and a mortar from his bag.
He gave a thumbs-up in the direction of a distant building, carefully measuring the wind speed and distance.
"I must remind you, Deadshot, my contract stipulates that no one is to be harmed."
The voice of his client came through the earpiece.
"Ventriloquist, you've been working in the underworld for years. Since when did you start giving superhero-like requests not to kill people?"
"Villains should act like villains."
Deadshot grumbled as he set up the mortar at the edge of the rooftop. "If you weren't a regular client, I'd think you were a mole for Batman."
"By the way, that new puppet you're carrying… you didn't actually join forces with Batman, did you? Didn't he give you a Robin uniform that doesn't come with pants?"
**Thoom!**
The mortar fired, tracing a deadly arc through the sky. Simultaneously, Ventriloquist's voice buzzed in his ear.
"Kill anyone, and I'll dock your pay."
"Yeah, yeah, I got it. Don't worry."
Deadshot licked his lips and raised the anti-tank rocket launcher.
**Boom!**
The rocket flew out, overtaking the mortar and meeting it in mid-air above the building like a violent embrace.
**Ka-boom!**
In the ensuing explosion, the rooftop was blown open like a soda can, revealing the panicked ants of enemies scrambling below.
"See? I told you I'd bring
Deadshot pulled out a sniper rifle but hesitated before firing. "But right now, my dear client…"
"Because of your lack of trust, I've lost the motivation to finish this job."
"… What?"
"After an explosion like that, the Mad Hatter is probably hiding. Catching him again will be ten times harder. And since Gotham is Batman's city, mercenaries willing to come here are already hard to find."
"Do you really want to make this mission impossible, Mr. Client?"
"…Enough! Name your price."
Deadshot gazed up at the sky at a 45-degree angle, his words precise, righteous, and delivered without hesitation:
"More money."
The long night continued.
---
The night draped over Gotham like a seductive lover, entwined passionately with the city.
"I must remind you, madam, that the target of this mission,
The voice came through her earpiece, though it was actually the Batman puppet on Ventriloquist's hand speaking.
"I have no doubt you can defeat him, but my requirement is to ensure the safety of every student hostage. So, you must separate Zsasz from the girls before engaging him—"
"Oh, really?"
Cheshire's elegant fingers traced the curve of her waist and the alluring pale skin of her chest before resting on her Cheshire Cat mask.
"I think that won't be necessary, don't you?"
"What are you—"
"She's not talking to you."
A voice as cold as moonlight mixed with the red and blue police lights outside. It came from a shadowy figure emerging from the darkness.
Every inch of his muscular frame was scarred, a living canvas of self-inflicted cuts.
Victor Zsasz, one of Gotham's infamous serial killers.
His eyes lingered on Cheshire's graceful figure.
"Why don't you show me that pretty face, miss?"
"Oh no, you know the rules."
The assassin turned slightly.
"Cats never take off their masks—especially not for a naked exhibitionist."
A dagger appeared in her empty palm.
Cheshire sighed, pulling out a collapsible knife from behind her back. Then, from the front, she produced several shuriken, as if a hamster was emptying its food stash.
She tilted her head.
"Catfight?"
Gotham's notorious exhibitionist and serial killer, Mr. Zsasz, grinned wickedly.
"Cat quest."
The long night stretched on.
---
In the Batcave beneath Wayne Manor, Nathan was manipulating mercenaries remotely, using Ventriloquist's voice like a bald puppet master.
"…Enough! Name your price. What? More money?"
Nathan waved a hand, speaking in the tone of a big spender. "Fine, raise it. Whatever you want!"
He turned around to see
"Batman, I still can't believe you'd hire mercenaries instead of taking me with you to deal with Bane!"
The real Ventriloquist was crouching in a corner, trying to blend in like an actual dog.
Tim clenched his fists, but he couldn't just punch Ventriloquist without a reason in front of Batman.
So the young Robin bit his lip in frustration, his teeth as white as porcelain, and continued writing with a heavy heart: "And not only did you bring criminals into our home, you called them in front of me!!!"
Nathan hung up the phone and sighed.
Robin fell silent for a moment.
He finally asked:
"Is this because of
"Not entirely," Nathan replied. "Listen."
He turned and placed his hands firmly on Robin's shoulders, looking directly into his eyes.
"I'm planning to retire."
"Wha… what?" Tim was dumbfounded by the unexpected response.
"Youth doesn't last forever, Tim. We all grow up. The days of chasing dreams are over, and Batman is just a dream an eight-year-old refuses to wake up from… but it's time to wake up."
"I'll do one last thing for Gotham, then live the normal life I deserve. You should do the same, Tim."
"You've excelled in your studies, you're incredibly smart, and you have both a father and a mother."
"You don't know how rare that is!"
"You deserve all the beautiful things life has to offer. You should go to school and, one day, meet your true love."
"She might have golden hair and ocean-blue eyes, or maybe red hair... She might be a Gordon, or a Brown, but one day, she'll take your last name, Drake."
"You two will love each other. That kind of pure, innocent love is something I'll never experience."
"We need to escape this nightmare."
With a crash,
Tears of joy streamed down his face as he covered it with his hands.
"Is… is this real, Master Bruce? Am I dreaming? Bruce?"
The long night stretched on.