Batman paused at the answer, glancing at Avery for a moment. He didn't have time to probe into what kind of "handling" Avery had done, but hearing the name of the Court of Owls immediately clicked in his mind, as if a lightbulb had gone off.
The Court of Owls.
Batman silently repeated the name in his mind before he muttered aloud, his voice becoming more solemn as he recited a nursery rhyme:
"Beware the Court of Owls, always watching where you go.
Peering from the shadows of Gotham's streets, hidden in low walls and attic retreats.
They dwell inside your house, they lie beside your bed.
Never speak of their name, or the Talons will come for your head."
Avery listened quietly, paying close attention. As someone who wasn't particularly interested in the city, he had never heard this rhyme before, but he listened seriously, until the very end, when he suddenly seemed to understand something.
After Batman finished reciting, he sighed deeply. "When I started investigating as Batman, the first organization I looked into was this one because I suspected it might be connected to the death of my parents. But despite putting in a lot of effort, I found nothing. Eventually, I dismissed it as just another false urban legend. I never expected this organization to be real, and not just a story passed down in rhymes..."
Avery had come to the Wayne Manor after the death of the Waynes, so he wasn't very familiar with the specifics of the case. Hearing Batman mention it now took him by surprise.
Thinking back to the Talon he had hypnotized and everything it had revealed, he thought: Perhaps the murder of the Waynes was indeed deeply tied to the Court of Owls.
His eyes grew cold for a moment, and then they quietly faded away, unnoticed even by Batman.
"It seems that my recent actions, along with Harvey's, must have touched a nerve with them. That's why they're retaliating now," Batman continued, but just as he spoke, Alfred suddenly emerged from a backup entrance, holding a phone and bringing news that wasn't exactly good.
"Harvey Dent has disappeared from the hospital about half an hour ago," Alfred reported.
When someone goes missing, they must be found immediately—especially when their life might be in danger. Batman and Harvey were friends. Though Batman didn't openly display his emotions, everyone at Wayne Manor knew he was deeply anxious about Harvey's safety.
However, they hadn't been able to act for long before the Court of Owls, enraged by the failure of their assassination attempt and the disappearance of their Talons, began their furious counterattack.
Numerous high-ranking officials and influential figures in Gotham who supported the new policies were assassinated one after another. Even Alfred suffered a minor injury during one of his outings.
Meanwhile, Avery received a response from Amanda Waller.
A seemingly plain white envelope materialized out of thin air into his hand, as he had anticipated, unnoticed by anyone else.
This was the contact method Avery had left behind for Waller before departing—an easily executed ritual that required only materials available to the average person, allowing messages to be delivered directly to him.
Amid Gotham's increasingly tense atmosphere, Avery first healed his father's injuries. Then, with a demeanor even more icy and resolute than usual, he retreated to a secluded spot and expressionlessly opened the letter.
The letter outlined that the government had reached a consensus and decided to collaborate with him against the Court of Owls. It also contained some crucial information and proposed a time to discuss specific actions.
After reading it, Avery showed no visible reaction. Holding the thin sheet of paper between two fingers, he conjured a vivid, scorching flame that consumed the letter completely, reducing it to nothing.
Once this was done, he retrieved a pen and a blank sheet of paper. Sitting at a desk, he methodically began drafting a reply, his focus unshaken.
...
In a dimly lit, cluttered room, Harvey Dent sat holding a gun. One side of his face was unscarred and intact, while the other was grotesquely disfigured. Before him was a man of average build and unremarkable appearance, tied to a chair. This man was none other than the one who had thrown acid at Harvey.
"Who's behind you? Who's pulling the strings?"
Harvey asked calmly, methodically wiping down his gun as if the question were a mere formality.
The man tied up on the floor shook his head frantically, his face pale with terror. Fear and hesitation battled in his eyes, but the weight of what he might face if he revealed the truth ultimately held him back. After a moment's pause, he stammered, "No… no one! No one sent me. It was you—you cut off my income. That's why I retaliated, okay?"
"Please, just let me go! I'll make it up to you. I'll pay you—lots of money! Enough to buy anything you want. You could even use it for surgery to fix your face. Isn't that worth it?"
Hope flashed in the man's desperate plea as he dangled the idea like a lifeline.
Harvey remained silent. He set the gun down, his composed mask faltering. In the quiet, a voice seemed to echo in his mind, urging him to kill this man. But another voice countered: if you kill him, you'll never uncover who's really behind this.
So, which voice should he heed?
Harvey Dent's consciousness spiraled into a haze of conflict.
"Money?"
Though his mind was in chaos, Harvey's outward demeanor remained cold, even eerily close to the righteous prosecutor he once was—if one ignored the monstrous scars that now marred his face.
But then…
Harvey raised his gun, and with a sudden, rage-fueled resolve, he fired.
Bang! Bang, bang, bang!
The gunshots were deafening.
The man, riddled with bullets, slumped lifelessly, his wide eyes frozen in shock. Even in death, he couldn't comprehend why Harvey had suddenly turned on him.
He had assumed that even if Harvey wasn't swayed by his offer of money, the former prosecutor would at least wait until he'd exhausted all means of extracting information before losing patience. Killing him now seemed pointless, senseless—a move without gain.
And so, he died, his questions unanswered.