The man in the silver suit scowled but countered, "We haven't ignored that possibility, but are we to surrender because of it? My proposal is aimed at luring out our enemy so we can eliminate them. Once they're out in the open, we'll also have a better chance of determining what happened to the Talons."
His gaze darkened as he turned toward the youth. "Your question lacks substance. Next time, I suggest you think more carefully before speaking."
The youth straightened his posture, placing his hands calmly on the table in front of him. "No, I think you've misunderstood my point."
"My theory is that our adversary's overwhelming and precise actions—taking down so many Talons without hesitation—stem from an intimate knowledge of the Court. This suggests the person might actually be one of us. A traitor. Someone hidden among us!"
Gasps rippled through the chamber at this explosive accusation. No one had anticipated such a bold claim. His words implied that any one of them could be the culprit.
After letting the shock sink in, the youth continued, his tone calm but piercing. "Otherwise, how else could they so easily neutralize the Talons? It's highly likely that they're a former member of the Court, someone who knows exactly how to counteract the Talons—or worse, has convinced the Talons to defect and now wields them as their own tools."
"And what about the Talons we sent to assassinate Batman and Bruce Wayne?" He glanced around the room. "Are you not at all curious why they, too, have vanished?"
In truth, they were imprisoned in the Batcave, locked away in specially designed cryogenic chambers by Batman.
Someone, with an almost absent-minded demeanor, thought this privately.
The Court members, however, had other suspicions. They had considered the possibility that Batman had captured the Talons. But the idea of their elite operatives being outmatched and imprisoned was difficult to accept outright.
The sheer number of Talons, combined with their regenerative abilities, made the youth's theory chillingly plausible. If Batman had emerged unscathed because a traitor had struck a deal with him, it would perfectly explain why so many Talons had disappeared without a trace after targeting him.
This realization sent a ripple of suspicion through the room. The attendees began to glance at one another with doubt in their eyes. After all, this gathering wasn't born out of camaraderie or mutual trust—it was a conclave of individuals driven by selfish desires and ambitions.
There's an old saying: The only reason someone hasn't betrayed you yet is because the price wasn't right. For these people, betrayal wasn't just a possibility—it was an inevitability, given the right incentive.
The atmosphere in the room grew tense, and the silver-suited man, seeing his authority unraveling, slammed the table and stood up abruptly. Pointing a trembling finger at the youth, he roared, "What exactly is your agenda with these comments meant to sow discord?"
But it was only an accusation, unsupported by evidence. None of the other members took his side; instead, they waited to see how the situation would unfold.
The youth, as unruffled as ever, leaned back in his chair. "Why are you so agitated? I'm merely pointing out potential dangers for everyone's sake. Surely, you don't want to fall victim to a traitor's knife in the back?"
He paused, a faint smile playing on his lips as his gaze locked onto the silver-suited man. "Besides, my mentor taught me to always look beyond the surface and understand the essence of a situation. My family, as I'm sure you're all aware, has been in decline for years. We lack the power or resources to pull off something so ambitious. I couldn't possibly be the one behind this."
He then leaned forward slightly, his tone shifting to one of quiet accusation. "But the real question is this: when betrayal occurs, it's always driven by personal gain. So, after everything that's happened, who has benefited the most? Let's set aside the hidden players for a moment—who among us has reaped the most visible rewards?"
The implication was clear. Many turned their eyes toward the silver-suited man. Before this recent chaos, he'd been far down the hierarchy, barely in consideration for a leadership role. Yet now, he sat at the head of the table.
Feeling the weight of their suspicion, the man's temper flared in desperation. He pointed at the youth again, his voice breaking with anger. "You're the one stirring up all this paranoia! You must be the traitor!"
But his accusation only served to highlight his panic, and the others remained unconvinced.
The youth chuckled softly, then reached up to remove his mask. As the mask came away, it revealed a face that no one could have anticipated—one that didn't belong to any known member of the Court. He grinned slyly and winked at the silver-suited man before saying, with a calm yet cutting tone, "You're mistaken. I'm not a traitor. I'm a spy."
The room fell into stunned silence.
Everyone's minds reeled at the revelation. How long had this person infiltrated their ranks? How had they remained undiscovered until now?