Damian and Athanasia moved like twin phantoms through the crimson gloom. Their footwork was flawless, honed by thousands of hours in the brutal training halls of Nanda Parbat, their movements silent, symmetrical, and lethally synchronized.
Damian feinted low, his katana carving a silver crescent toward Blud's right knee to sever the patellar tendon. Athanasia struck high, twin combat daggers angling in a reverse grip toward the soft junction of the High Priest's carotid artery and collarbone.
Sparks showered across the polished stone floor.
Damian's Damascus folded-steel edge bit into the flesh above Blud's knee, but it didn't slice through bone. It stopped cold against unnatural, hyper-dense muscle fibers, drawing only a shallow ribbon of dark, viscous blood. Athanasia's twin daggers struck the High Priest's neck and clavicle with enough force to pierce body armor, but the blades merely scored his gray, veiny skin, leaving thin crimson lines that barely bled.
"Tch," Damian clicked his tongue, instantly pivoting off the ball of his back foot to evade a sweeping backhand that shattered an oak dissection table into kindling. "His bodies skin density is augmented."
"I see that, Brother," Athanasia hissed, vaulting off a steel medical cart as it was kicked across the room.
She twirled in midair, landing lightly atop an occult console before diving downward, her daggers flashing in a blur of precision strikes, eyes, throat, brachial artery, groin.
Every strike landed, but Blud barely flinched. The man was a towering monster in human skin, his bare torso pulsing with thick veins. He roared, his fangs dripping saliva, swinging his massive arms with enough force to displace the air with low, concussive thuds.
The twins used their small size and agility to their absolute advantage. They flipped over inverted surgical rigs, vaulted off overhead pipes, and used the laboratory's heavy machinery as cover. Whenever Blud lunged forward with a killing blow, they dissolved into the shadows, leaving him striking empty air and splintering reinforced steel.
"Annoying little insects!" Blud bellowed in frustration.
With a sweeping, furious backhand, Blud tore an entire steel diagnostic station from its concrete anchor, swinging it in a wide arc. The jagged metal edge caught Athanasia in the middle of her evasion, throwing her off balance.
Before she could recover her footing, Blud's massive, gray hand shot out, his fingers clamping around her throat like a hydraulic vice.
He hoisted the ten-year-old off her feet, slamming her back against a stone pillar.
"I have you now, you little desert rat," Blud sneered, his blood-red eyes widening with sadistic hunger. His jaw unhinged slightly, fangs extending as he leaned in toward the bare skin of her neck.
"Let us see what kind of blood flows through your veins."
Athanasia didn't panic. Her eyes remained cold, calculating, and utterly venomous.
Without a sound, she twisted her wrist, driving a concealed steel kunai directly into one of the open lacerations on Blud's shoulder, burying the five-inch blade all the way to the hilt.
"Aaargh!" Blud grunted, his grip involuntarily loosening from the sudden shock of pain.
Athanasia slipped from his grasp like water, dropping to the floor and rolling beneath his legs.
In the same heartbeat, Damian dropped from the overhead steel scaffolding. He gripped his katana with both hands, driving the full weight of his descending body into a vertical execution strike aimed directly at the nape of Blud's exposed neck.
"You are strong and fast for a bloodthirsty heathen of a man," Damian snarled in mid-fall. "But I promised myself I would present your severed head to Grandfather!"
The blade bit into the back of Blud's neck, slicing two inches deep before stopping dead.
Blud's trapezius and cervical muscles violently contracted, hardening around the steel. The blade was clamped in place, unable to advance another millimeter toward the spine.
Damian's eyes widened in genuine disbelief. "What the fu—"
Blud twisted his entire upper torso with terrifying leverage, wrenching the katana clean out of Damian's grip. With a backhanded swat, he caught Damian in midair, launching the boy across the laboratory.
Damian hit the ground, executed a clean double backflip to absorb the kinetic shock, and landed in a low, three-point crouch beside his sister.
Athanasia already had two fresh combat knives drawn, her breathing calm despite the bruise forming on her throat. "Brother... this man is proving to be quite bothersome."
"Agreed," Damian spat, rising into an open-palm martial stance. "He is an undisciplined brute. But he is still just a man. If it bleeds..."
"...we can kill him," Athanasia finished smoothly, her lips curving into a lethal smirk.
Blud laughed, a low, raspy sound that rattled the occult containment cylinders around the room. He reached back with one hand, casually pulling the lodged katana from the nape of his neck and tossing the bloody steel aside like a twig.
"Very true, children," Blud said, his voice dripping with arrogance. "A magnificent philosophy. But in the Church of Blood, we have a saying of our own."
He reached into his waistband, pulling out a sealed glass vial containing a glowing, faint red liquid. Stamped across the label in black military stencil was a single name:
SANDSMARK
Blud popped the cork with his thumb.
"If it bleeds," he whispered, tossing his head back and downing the divine serum in a single, greedy gulp. "...then it makes me stronger."
The sound of snapping bone and hyper-accelerating muscle tissue echoed through the chamber.
The deep cuts across Blud's chest, neck, and shoulder sizzled with golden-white bio-electricity, knitting together in seconds until the flesh was smooth and unblemished. The black veins across his arms and neck swelled to twice their size, pulsing with divine energy. His muscles expanded, his posture straightening as a visible aura of pressure washed out from his frame.
In the blink of an eye, faster than any human eye could track, Blud vanished from his spot.
"Look out!" Damian barked, his instincts screaming.
Blud materialized directly in front of the twins, his fist cocked back with enough raw power to reduce both children to crimson paste.
Neither twin had time to raise a guard.
ZRRRRT-BOOM!
A blinding crimson streak trailing crackling arcs of blue-white lightning tore through the laboratory, creating a localized sonic boom that scattered loose papers and shattered glass beakers across twenty feet.
In a fraction of a millisecond, the fist struck empty air, leaving a shockwave that cracked the stone floor beneath it.
Ten meters away, near the heavy steel doors of the elevator shaft, Wally West slid to a halt in his full Flash costume, safely setting Damian and Athanasia down on their feet.
Wally exhaled a sharp breath, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. "Whew. That was way too close. You two okay?"
Damian immediately slapped Wally's hand away from his shoulder, his scowl returning with lethal ferocity. "We are unharmed. Unhand me instantly, Kid Flash."
Wally blinked, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "Jesus, kid. A 'thank you' wouldn't kill you. And it's just Flash, for the record."
Athanasia offered a crisp, formal bow, her expression sharp and aristocratic. "You have our gratitude for the intervention, Flash."
"At least one of you has manners," Wally muttered.
I stepped out from the elevator vestibule. Nightwing and Superboy flanked me on either side, their faces set in grim, unyielding focus.
Athanasia glanced back at us, her eyes narrowing as she cataloged our presence. "Brother... it appears the heroes have arrived."
Damian didn't even turn around, keeping his sharp green eyes locked on Blud. "No matter. They can serve as meat shields while we finish our mission."
Dick crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow behind his mask. "Hey, I recognize those two. That's the kid who gave me attitude in the residential wing."
"They're not just kids, Dick," I said quietly, telling by them being down here, and from their posture, and their faces. "They're probably trained assassins."
I stared at the boy and girl for a long second, a strange, persistent prickle of familiarity buzzing in the back of my brain. The boy had the exact jawline, high cheekbones, and dark, brooding brow of someone I knew intimately well. And the girl had that sharp, aristocratic scowl that looked terrifyingly like Kate Kane when she was pissed off.
Why do they look so damn familiar?
Conner stepped forward, his eyes locking onto the center of the laboratory. He pointed past Blud toward a raised obsidian dais where a pool of dark, swirling occult fluid bubbled quietly.
Suspended directly above the pool in a web of electrified restraints was Raven.
Her translucent crimson gown hung loosely around her frail frame. Her head was slumped forward, her dark hair tangled and damp with sweat, her consciousness buried somewhere deep within the agony of sensory suppression and neural shocks.
Conner's jaw hardened, his fists clenching until his knuckles turned white. "You're a sick fuck, Blud. You're lucky the League and the gods want you breathing."
Blud chuckled, the sound deep, resonant, and entirely unbothered. He rolled his broad shoulders, wiping a trace of golden blood from his chin.
"Ah... Mr. Dawn," Blud purred, his heavy European accent thick with condescension. "So the rumors were true. The heir to Olympian Designs is a caped vigilante. How delightfully pedestrian. But your presence here changes nothing, in fact, it merely accelerates my schedule."
Blud spread his arms wide, gesturing toward the chamber. "The Sandsmark girl's blood was a magnificent appetizer, but your Olympian heritage is the other key. A twenty-year grand design, meticulously prepared by the Church of Blood. With the Justice League foolishly battering at my front door, I shall simply claim what is mine right now. Your divine biology will serve as the anchor. Raven's broken mind serve as the key to allow him into our world. And when the Lord of the Eight Hells peers through her soul, Trigon's boundless cosmic power will belong to me."
I stared at him for three full seconds, slowly blinking beneath my hood.
I let out a heavy, exhausted sigh.
"My god," I muttered, rubbing the bridge of my nose. "You're actually doing the full supervillain monologue. Complete with the theatrical arm gestures, the dramatic pauses, and the cheap Dracula accent. It's honestly embarrassing."
Dick smirked, resting his hands on his escrima sticks. "Tell me about it. It's like he bought the 'How to be an Occult Dictator' starter pack off the dark web."
"I think that's an insult to Dracula," I added dryly. "At least Bram Stoker had some style."
BANG.
A sudden, sharp gunshot shattered the banter.
A bullet tore through the air, aimed with lethal precision straight at Raven's forehead.
Before the bullet could reach the suspended girl, Blud's hand flashed upward, swatting the lead projectile out of the air like a minor annoyance. The bullet flattened against his reinforced palm and clattered harmlessly to the floor.
Every head in the room whipped around.
Athanasia stood with a pistol extended in a two-handed grip, smoke curling faintly from the barrel.
Dick moved instantly, his voice sharp with authority. "What the hell are you doing?! She's our friend and an innocent! You don't execute a hostage!"
Dick took two rapid steps toward her to disarm the weapon.
SHING.
In a fraction of a heartbeat, Damian drew a secondary blade from his tactical belt and snapped the razor-sharp edge directly against the side of Dick's exposed neck, halting him in his tracks.
"Do not take another step, acrobat," Damian snarled, his eyes burning with pure, murderous malice. "Touch my sister, and I will open your jugular before you can blink."
"Stand down, kid," Conner growled, taking a heavy step forward, the floor cracking beneath his boot.
Athanasia lowered her pistol slightly, her face completely deadpan. "She is the key to his ascension, is she not? The entire ritual depends upon her survival. Eliminate the vessel, and the High Priest's plans dissolve entirely. It is basic tactical mathematics."
I stepped between Dick and the twins, raising a calm hand.
"That's not necessary," I said firmly, my voice cutting through the tension. "We don't murder innocents to solve problems. We're getting Raven out of here alive. And as for Blud... nobody kills him. But if you want to take an arm, a leg, or anything that isn't his head to keep him down, be my guest."
Wally looked over at me, his eyes wide behind his cowl. "Caius, that is disturbingly dark, man."
"Code names, Flash," I corrected him without looking back. "We're in the field."
Damian and Athanasia both paused. They looked at each other, a flicker of silent communication passing between their eyes, before turning back to me.
"You are Caius Dawn?" Athanasia asked, tilting her head.
"Yeah," I said, narrowing my eyes. "Why?"
The twins lowered their weapons in unison, stepping back into a formal, disciplined posture.
"I am Damian al Ghul," the boy stated with cold, unyielding pride. "And this is my twin sister, Athanasia al Ghul."
My jaw almost dropped inside my suit.
Damian and Athanasia?!
Bruce's kids! That explains the uncanny resemblance! But wait... twins? In my past life's knowledge, Athanasia was from an alternate Injustice timeline where Talia raised her in secret even from Damian, and Damian always existed in the prime universe. So here, they're twins born from the same union.
Dick froze, his eyes widening in complete shock behind his domino mask. "Al Ghul? As in... Ra's al Ghul? You two are his children?!"
"Grandchildren," Athanasia corrected sharply. "Our mother is Talia al Ghul."
I watched as the gears turned in Dick's detective brain. He looked from Damian's face, the spitting image of a young Bruce Wayne without the billionaire charm, to Athanasia's lethal scowl.
"Holy shit," Dick breathed, the realization hitting him like a freight train. "These are... these are Bruce's kids."
Before anyone could say another word, the air in the sanctum violently compressed.
BOOM.
Blud moved with powerful velocity, his boots shattering the stone floor as he blitzed toward Dick and the twins with his claws outstretched.
"Focus on the bloodsucker wannabe!" I roared.
I met Blud head-on in the center of the room.
Our collision sounded like two tectonic plates slamming together. The shockwave blew out the glass consoles across the entire perimeter. Blud's enhanced strength was monstrous, but my baseline Viltrumite physiology, reinforced by my TTK, held absolute ground.
I grabbed his massive wrists, locking our arms in a test of pure, unadulterated power.
"You're out of your league, Blud," I growled into his monstrous face.
With a sharp twist, I broke his grip, torqued my hips, and drove an explosive right cross directly into his jaw. The force released on impact, sending Blud hurtling backward at Mach 2.
Blud flew straight through the reinforced blast wall on the far side of the sanctum, tearing through structural steel and concrete before vanishing into the darkness of an adjoining sublevel. Freezing nitrogen vapor hissed violently from the breached pipes.
I turned back to the team. "Flash, grab Raven and get her to the extraction point now!"
"On it!" Wally blurred into motion.
He reached the obsidian dais in a microsecond, his hands reaching out to dismantle Raven's electrical restraints.
A gray, clawed fist whistled past Wally's nose, missing his cowl by less than an inch.
Wally reacted on instinct, vibrating his molecules to slip beneath the strike, skidding twenty feet backward in a trail of blue sparks.
"Whoa!" Wally yelled, his heart pounding. "Who the hell is fast enough to intercept me?!"
Standing on the dais in front of Raven was Blud.
His mouth, chin, and hands were completely drenched in fresh, dark crimson blood. His eyes were bloodshot, pupils dilated to the size of pinpricks, radiating a terrifying, hyper-focused feral madness. Arcs of golden electricity, purple energy, and green radiation crackled chaotically across his skin.
Conner looked past the massive hole I had punched through the wall, his vision piercing the freezing fog.
"Oh, no..." Conner whispered, his face going pale.
Dick ran up beside him, peering through the rubble. "What is it, Superboy?"
"That room Caius just knocked him into..." Conner said, his voice tight. "...it was the cold-storage vault. A metahuman blood reserve."
Dick's eyes widened in horror. "Superior... you said Blud temporarily absorbs the powers of any metahuman whose blood he drinks, right?"
I froze, looking at the dozens of shattered, empty cryogenic containers leaking across the ruined floorboards behind Blud.
Fuck.
I just fed the boss monster an all-you-can-eat meta-gene buffet.
"My bad," I muttered under my breath.
I turned to Conner, my fists igniting with kinetic force. "Conner, on my mark."
"Ready," Conner growled, his jaw set.
I glanced over at Damian and Athanasia. "Can you two promise not to kill my friend and just get her out of the crossfire? I'll handle this bastard."
Damian and Athanasia exchanged a brief, calculating look.
"Our mother and grandfather explicitly commanded us to show you respect should our paths ever cross, Mr. Dawn," Damian said formally, sheathing his secondary dagger. "We shall comply with your request for now. Consider this an act of good faith from the Al Ghul lineage and the League of Assassins."
"Right. Thanks," I said, not having the time to unpack why Ra's al Ghul wanted to be on my good side.
I turned back to Blud. "Let's take him down!"
Conner and I locked eyes. Simultaneously, our gazes ignited, Conner's with intense crimson heat vision, mine with blazing gold.
Twin beams of concentrated from our eyes, slamming directly into Blud's chest. The thermal impact was immense, scorching his flesh and forcing the roaring High Priest backward across the stone floor as the sheer kinetic pressure tore through his footing.
Before he could stabilize, I engaged my flight at full power.
I broke the sound barrier inside the enclosed sanctum, driving an earth-shattering uppercut beneath Blud's jaw.
The concussive force launched Blud vertically like a missile. He tore through the reinforced concrete ceiling, through two layers of steel rebar, through the rock strata above, rocketing straight into the sublevel above us.
"Conner, with me!" I yelled, blasting upward into the newly carved tunnel.
Conner ignited his flight, trailing right behind me as we pursued the monster into the upper chambers.
Sublevel 1 — The Red Room Amphitheater
CRASH!
Blud burst through the granite floor of the Red Room colosseum in an explosion of rock and dust, tumbling across the bloody fighting pit before arresting his momentum in midair.
Conner and I emerged a second later, landing heavily on the shattered stone.
The amphitheater was a scene of absolute, unrestrained carnage.
Red X was a whirlwind of crimson steel and teleportation discs, systematically brutalizing every armed guard and corrupt human trafficker who tried to reach the sealed blast doors. Broken and severed bodies were strewn across the VIP platforms.
Blud floated ten feet above the fighting pit, his chest heaving, his fangs bared in a primal, animalistic roar that shook the very foundations of the mountain.
"I AM THE LIVING VESSEL!" Blud shrieked, his voice layered with multiple stolen vocal frequencies. "YOU CANNOT KILL A GOD!"
Conner lunged, blitzing Blud with a massive straight right that struck the High Priest flush across the cheekbone. The blow rattled Blud, staggering him in midair, but the monster recovered instantly with unnatural, insectoid agility.
Blud countered with a devastating backhand striking Conner across the chest and launching him clean through the outer stone wall of the amphitheater, sending him crashing out into the snowy mountain ridges outside.
Blud roared again, dropping like a raptor onto the corpses of two heavily modified metahuman gladiators who had fallen Cassandra Cain.
Without a second of hesitation, Blud dug his claws into their open wounds, tearing the flesh apart and gorging himself on their spilled blood.
Blud's left arm suddenly mutated, the bone and tissue elongating into a massive, twenty-foot-long biomechanical tentacle covered in razor-sharp chitin. The limb whipped through the smoky air with blinding speed, wrapping around my torso and pinning my arms against my sides.
The constriction force was immense, easily exceeding fifty tons of pressure, threatening to crack my ribs.
I exhaled sharply, focusing my mind.
Expand my tactile field.
I released my tactile telekinesis in a violent, omnidirectional burst. The invisible kinetic wave expanded outward like a detonating shaped charge, violently shattering the mutated arm into dozens of severed pieces.
I flexed my muscles, ripping the remaining tendrils from my chest.
Across the pit, Blud was already feeding on a third corpse. His blood-red eyes snapped toward me, glowing with terrifying crimson luminescence.
A twin beam of heat vision erupted from Blud's eyes, tearing through the smoky air straight toward my chest.
I didn't dodge.
I narrowed my eyes and fired back.
A thick, blinding beam of golden-white thermal plasma met his crimson heat vision in the dead center of the amphitheater. The collision created a blinding sphere of pure, crackling energy that scorched the ceiling and vaporized the stone floor beneath it, locking us in a deafening, white-hot stalemate.
From the VIP gallery above, a small, disc-shaped explosive sailed through the air, detonating directly inside Blud's stream of heat vision right in front of his face.
The concussive blast severed Blud's visual beam, staggering the High Priest backward as thick black smoke and shrapnel tore into his eyes.
I cut my heat vision, landing lightly on the cracked arena floor as I looked up toward the balcony. Standing atop the brass railing, twin customized heavy pistols holstered at his hips, was Red Hood.
I smirked beneath my hood. "Glad to see you made the party, J."
"Are you kidding me?" Jason's mechanized voice drawled through his crimson helmet. "I wouldn't miss a target-rich environment like this for the world. So... what kind of freak-show are we dealing with here?"
"A discount Dracula," I said, rolling my shoulders. "He drinks the blood of metahumans to temporarily steal their powers and abilities. He wants to use and or rape Raven to siphon Trigon's demonic power, and he needs my Olympian genetics as a biological buffer so the magic doesn't burn him to ash."
Jason whistled low over his helmet comms. "Damn, Cai. That's a whole lot of weird, even for an occult cult. But hey... that explains why you had me track down that specific package."
Jason reached inside his worn brown leather jacket and pulled out a heavy, sealed titanium cylinder glowing with faint blue cryo-indicators.
He tossed the canister lightly from hand to hand. "You have some seriously sick, twisted ideas, Dawn. Asking me to convince her to give me a sample of that stuff?"
"Desperate times call for brutal countermeasures," I replied. "How is Mia doing, by the way?"
"She's—"
Before Jason could finish the sentence, the smoke cleared.
Blud materialized directly in front of Jason on the high balcony, his claws raised to rip the vigilante in half.
I blitzed forward intercepting the strike with a thunderous right hook that slammed into Blud's jaw, followed by an axe kick directly into his collarbone. Blud snarled, catching my ankle with his mutated grip and hurling me across the chamber like a ragdoll.
Then the mountain wall exploded inward.
Conner tore through the rock, covered in snow and frost, a ferocious grin on his face.
"I brought backup!" Conner yelled at the top of his lungs.
Through the massive breach in the fortress wall, the full force of the Justice League and the Titans poured into the Red Room like an avenging army.
Zatanna and Zatara floated into the chamber. Vixen dropped from the ceiling, channeling the strength of a bull elephant to crush four armed bio-guards into the ground. Cyborg and Static locked down the perimeter, their combined plasma cannons and high-voltage electromagnetic pulses frying the arena's automated turret grids.
Fire and Ice swept through the balconies, freezing weapons in place and melting structural barriers, while Wildcat waded through the remaining mercenaries with bone-shattering hooks and crosses.
Across the chamber, in the secured holding antechamber, Donna Troy stood over the unconscious, rescued blonde girl.
Omen came running down the corridor in her full costume, breathing heavily. "Donna! The League has breached the outer perimeter! The Amazons are systematically clearing the holding cells and liberating the captive children!"
Donna looked toward the lower tunnels.
Through the dust and smoke, she could see a towering, red-haired Amazon warrior, bloodied, bruised, but radiating pure, murderous and righteous fury. The warrior swung a massive, bladed battle axe with terrifying strength, carving a bloody path through a twenty-foot-tall chitinous abomination that tried to block the exit.
"I WILL SLAUGHTER EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU FOR WHAT YOU HAVE DONE TO ME AND MY SISTERS!" the red-haired Amazon roared, her axe cleaving the creature cleanly in half.
From a shattered observation booth, a captured H.I.V.E. bio-technician in a ruined lab coat shrieked in horror: "No! Not Big Terry Junior!"
Omen tossed Donna her lasso and Amazonian sword. "Superboy and Caius are engaging Blud in the main pit! Go give them a hand!"
Donna caught her weapons, nodding firmly.
She looked down at herself, realizing she was still wearing the absurdly tight, revealing black-and-yellow 'Bee Girl' suit she'd been forced into earlier. With an irritated scoff, Donna kicked off the high heels, reached over to a velvet VIP lounge table, and ripped a heavy length of crimson silk cloth from the surface, tying it securely around her waist like a makeshift combat battle skirt. The only being revealed is her stocking legs .
I really need to invest in a nanotech suit like Caius, Donna thought to herself, rolling her shoulders.
She launched herself into the air, flying straight toward the thunderous sonic impacts shaking the arena pit.
Batman perched on the highest architectural gargoyle overlooking the amphitheater, his dark cape wrapped tightly around his frame.
His sharp, analytical mind was working at maximum capacity, cataloging every variable in the chamber within milliseconds:
Seventy-two captive minors secured by Amazonian vanguard units.
Twenty-four high-profile corrupt diplomats, corporate executives, and trafficking financiers incapacitated near the southern blast door, cross-referencing identities: Senator Hastings, Ambassador Vance, CEO Sterling... all currently under federal RICO investigations.
Red X containing the eastern perimeter.
Superior and Superboy engaged in heavy combat with Sebastian Blud, with Wonder Girl moving in for air support.
Batman's eyes narrowed beneath his cowl as his gaze shifted toward the western lower exit.
Lady Shiva stood near the shattered barricade, casually holding the limp, unconscious body of a girl slung over her shoulder.
Batman knew Lady Shiva intimately. He had spent years in his youth traveling the globe, learning martial disciplines under her lethal tutelage, and later trading blows with her across the rooftops of Gotham and other parts of the world. He knew how dangerous she was. But why was she here? And why was she carrying a child?
His gaze shifted to the woman standing beside Shiva.
She wore a form-fitting emerald-green silk evening gown with a high slit running up the thigh. Her dark, cascading hair fell gracefully over olive, sun-kissed skin. Her posture was regal, lethal, and undeniably familiar. She moved with effortless, predatory elegance, flicking arterial blood from a Damascus steel blade.
Talia!
Talia turned her head slowly, looking directly up at his shadowy perch on the ceiling. Her lips curved into a soft, knowing, and dangerous smile. She raised a single, slender finger, playfully gesturing for him to come down.
Batman didn't hesitate.
He stepped off the ledge, his cape expanding into massive, bat-like wings as he glided silently down through the smoke, landing with a muted thud ten paces from the two women.
Talia stepped forward, sheathing her blade at her hip. Her eyes sparkled with genuine, intoxicating warmth. "Hello, my beloved. It has been quite some time since we last met."
"Ten years," Batman replied, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that offered no warmth. "Give or take a few months. What are you and Shiva doing in this facility, Talia?"
"That is none of your business, Detective," Shiva said coldly, not even shifting the weight of Cassandra on her shoulder.
Talia raised a delicate hand, silencing the assassin. "Peace, Shiva. Today is a glorious day. The filth of this world is being cleansed. Ancient debts are being settled. And long-separated families and friends are finally being reunited."
CLACK.
The crisp, unmistakable sound of a heavy slide racking on a .45-caliber handgun echoed from the shadows directly behind Batman's cowl.
Batman didn't flinch, but every muscle beneath his armor tensed.
"Red Hood," Batman said, keeping his eyes on Talia. "So you were operating with the League of Assassins. No... that isn't entirely accurate. You are merely associated with them."
Behind him, Red Hood let out a harsh, mocking chuckle. "After all this time, you still haven't put it all together, have you, 'world's greatest detective'?"
Talia looked at Batman, her smile softening into something almost maternal. "I shall let you two boys get reacquainted. It seems I must locate the children myself."
She stepped closer to Batman, leaning in until her breath brushed his armored jaw. "I will be seeing you very soon, my love."
Talia and Shiva both dropped small ceramic spheres to the floor.
A dense cloud of alchemical smoke erupted around them. By the time the gray fog cleared a second later, both women and the unconscious girl were completely gone.
Batman turned slowly, his cape sweeping the dust aside, until he was staring directly down the black, hollow barrel of the handgun pointed at the center of his forehead.
The Dark Knight's white lenses narrowed into razor-thin slits.
"Was it you?" Batman demanded, his voice hard enough to crush stone. "Did you kill him?"
Red Hood didn't lower the gun. "You're gonna need to be a lot more specific, old man. I've killed a whole lot of bastards before Gotham, and a whole lot more after."
"You know exactly who I mean," Batman growled, taking a single, measured half-step forward. "The warehouse down by the Gotham docks. I found his blood. I found the spent casings. And since that night, not a single soul in the underworld has seen or heard from the Joker in months. Did you kill him?"
Red Hood tilted his masked head slightly. "And what if I did? You gonna lock me in Arkham with the rest of the freaks you should have ended a long time ago?"
Batman didn't answer. He stood completely motionless, his piercing white lenses locking onto the smooth crimson surface of the helmet.
Red Hood stared back through the optical glass.
"You know, don't you?" the vigilante asked softly, the mocking edge vanishing from his voice, replaced by something raw and ancient. "You know who I really am."
"I had my theories," Batman said quietly. "Circumstantial evidence. Behavioral patterns. But nothing definitive. You could put all of it to rest right now. Just show me."
The chamber around them remained a storm of shouting heroes, groaning cultists, and the distant, concussive thunder of Superior and Superboy beating Sebastian Blud into the mountain bedrock.
Neither man moved.
Slowly, deliberately, Red Hood lowered the gun and holstered it at his hip. He raised both gloved hands to the base of his crimson helmet.
HISS.
The pressurized magnetic seals released with a soft puff of cold air. He pulled the helmet off, tossing the heavy piece of armor aside.
Jason Todd stood before his mentor.
His messy black hair was streaked with a single shock of pure white at the temple. His sharp blue-green eyes were hard.
Batman's breath hitched in his chest. His jaw slackened, the legendary, unbreakable composure of the Dark Knight shattering in a single, devastating fraction of a second.
"Jason..." Batman whispered, his voice cracking with profound, unvarnished shock.
Jason looked at the man who had raised him, a faint, bittersweet smirk touching his lips.
"Hey, Dad," Jason said softly. "I'm back."