How laughable. After everything he had done for Gotham, was this all he deserved? All those living in this city were the ones who had benefited from his actions. And yet, when he was at his lowest, they showed him this revolting side of themselves. So, what was the point of it all?
Harvey knew that his best option was to follow Bruce's plan: undergo reconstructive surgery, restore his face, and reclaim his position. His rational mind reminded him that Gotham was not entirely full of spiteful people—many in the city truly needed his help, and Gotham itself still needed him to make a difference.
But at this moment, he felt a wave of inexplicable hesitation, a fearful uncertainty. Could restoring his face really fix everything? Could it solve all the problems? He questioned himself.
He was lost.
Then, suddenly, he remembered something.
With trembling hands, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin—a coin with two heads, a relic from his father.
As a child, when he was forced to live with his father after his parents divorced, Harvey had been terrorized by this coin. His father, an alcoholic, would play a sick game with him, saying that if the coin landed tails-up, Harvey could avoid a beating. Yet in reality, the coin had no tails side at all.
Clutching the coin tightly, Harvey picked up a scalpel from the table beside him and scored a mark into one side of the coin.
Then, he tossed it into the air, as if making a decisive choice.
The organization known as the Court of Owls dates back to the seventeenth century, founded by Gotham's earliest noble families. In a sense, Gotham itself had been built with their wealth and influence, and to them, this city was like their child.
Of course, this sentiment may only have been wishful thinking on their part—after all, no one wants their "child" to become a notorious "city of crime." But human minds are complex and often defy logic.
So when Harvey Dent and Batman joined forces to dismantle Gotham's shadowed underworld, and Bruce Wayne, leveraging the influence and resources of the Wayne family, launched reforms targeting Gotham's economy and security, the city was on the verge of transformation.
And the Court of Owls was not pleased.
Often, the most unavoidable clash in any grand change is that between the old and the new.
The "Old Guard" relies on established systems to survive. Changing those systems would destroy everything they depend on and threaten their very interests—an intolerable situation. The "New Guard," meanwhile, seeks change, driven by their own self-interests; only by uprooting the old system can they thrive in new soil and grow into something towering and enduring.
Since ancient times, conflicts of interest have been among the hardest to resolve because no compromise can serve both sides. In the end, there can only be one victor.
Thus, the Court of Owls, a force that should have remained in urban legend, emerged from the shadows once again. They aimed to destroy Harvey Dent, to obliterate everything they found threatening, and finally to eliminate the last of the Wayne line, absorbing the family that had opposed them for generations.
The Court's members hid in the shadows, awaiting good news, convinced that they were the true rulers of Gotham—the city's crowned kings in the dark. In their view, neither Harvey Dent, Batman, nor Bruce Wayne could stand in their way. Facing the lethal Talons, no one could survive.
They were confident.
What they didn't realize was that before their plans could unfold, they had already succeeded in enraging someone—a person whose wrath they could never hope to bear.
When Avery returned to Wayne Manor with Dick in his arms, he was met by the eerie silence of an empty house.
Yet Avery did not panic. Based on the information he had gathered, he deduced that the Court of Owls' agents must have arrived before him. Likely, they had already confronted Bruce. It wasn't possible that anything could have happened to Bruce so quickly, so this unusual quiet…
With this thought, Avery slipped into Dick's room, gently laying the sleeping child on the bed and tucking him in before turning to leave.
Walking down the hallway, he noticed batarangs embedded in the walls, evidence of struggle etched in every corner. Avery's gaze remained steady, unfazed by the signs of battle, as he continued toward the Batcave, now transformed into an ice-cold storage room.
His eyes passed over the shattered elevator doors and the Talons lying incapacitated on the floor until his gaze finally rested on Batman, who had just finished a hard-fought battle.
"Where is my father?"
Batman looked up in silence and pointed toward a separate tunnel.
Avery understood and relaxed. He joined Batman in moving the downed Talons to the side, one by one, until they had gathered them all. Only then did Batman speak.
"Can you freeze them like this?"
Avery didn't hesitate. "Yes. You want them frozen right now?"
"Yes," Batman replied tersely.
Avery then took another glance at him, noticing that Batman had suddenly become much more taciturn. His eyes briefly swept over to Batman's lips, which were now slightly pale from the cold, and it all clicked for him.
Why didn't you say you were cold earlier? Trying to save face, suffering in silence!
Avery thought to himself with a silent sigh, then first cast a spell to regulate Batman's body temperature before freezing the Talons.
By this time, Batman, relieved from the biting cold, slowly regained his composure. He took a few steps forward to adjust the temperature control system in the Batcave back to normal. Only then did he have the chance to ask Avery about his situation.
"Did anything happen when you picked up Dick?"
Avery didn't hide the truth. "Yes, a group of Talons from the Court of Owls mistook me for you and used Dick as bait to lure me into the school, intending to surround and attack me. Fortunately, I managed to handle them in the end."