Gotham's night sky, a neon-shadow canvas, framed two figures atop GCPD. Batman, hulking silhouette, loomed over Commissioner Gordon.
"Jim," he growled, voice a gravel pit. "Scarecrow. Talk."
The drawn face, etched with worry lines, of Gordon was caught in the harsh glare of the Bat-signal. "It's bad, Batman. Real bad. Crane has lost it."
"Lost it? He never had it," rumbled the menace that was Batman, his onyx eyes glittering dangerously. "What's the bastard up to now?"
"Targeting civilians. Random attacks. No pattern we can see," Gordon sighed, lighting a cigarette with shaking hands. "But that's not the worst of it."
Batman's massive frame tensed. "Spit it out, Jim."
"Word on the street is he's planning something big. The water supply. He wants to poison it, make the whole damn city face their worst fears."
"Fuck," Batman cursed, his fist clenching. The light fell on the yellow border of his bat emblem, giving a striking view against his dark-grey suit color. "Any leads?"
Gordon shook his head. "Nothing solid. There's been some talk about the old chemical plant on the east side, but it's led to nothing."
Batman nodded, already turning towards the edge of the roof. "I'll shut him down. Tonight."
"Be careful," Gordon called out. "Crane's more dangerous than ever."
Halted in mid-step, one foot planted on the ledge, Batman turned back. His face was set in determination. "So am I, Jim. So am I."
With that, he sprang into the night, a dark angel of vengeance, and landed on a rooftop with a bone-jarring thud. His white lens scanned the shadows, finding what they sought.
"Barda," he growled, voice like gravel in a meat grinder.
The New God came from the dark: towering, terrible. Her costume, new for this assignment, was almost a robe of the filth of Gotham; it molded to her like a second skin.
"You're late, Batman," she purred, a hint of challenge in her voice.
"And you're trouble," he spat back. "This isn't some cosmic playground. It's Gotham. My city."
Barda's eyes flashed. "I can handle myself."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Batman growled, closing the gap between them. "You're a goddamn wrecking ball. One wrong move and you'll level a city block."
"So what am I supposed to do? Sit on my hands while you have all the fun?"
Batman's scarred face twisted into a grim smile. "Be my shadow. Only step in if I'm fucked or the target's about to slip away. Got it?"
Barda's welcome was in low, dangerous laughter. "Fine. But don't expect me to just watch if things get messy."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Batman muttered.
Without any warning at all, she grabbed on to him, pulling him into a hard kiss. For a moment, the darkness in Batman's eyes flickered, then returned full force as he pushed her away.
"Dammit, Barda," he growled. "I thought I told you about boundaries."
She grinned, all teeth and challenge. "You don't seem to mind too much."
Batman turned away, his cape swirling like a pool of oil. "Let's move. Scarecrow's out there, and we've got a city to save."
* * *
The city's veins pulsed with fear, a living nightmare. Batman and Barda, shadows among shadows, scoured Gotham's underbelly. Hours passed. Nothing.
"Fuck!" snarled the Batman, his massive fist denting a nearby dumpster. "Where's that psychotic bastard?"
Barda watched him, wary, towering and silent. "Perhaps we're looking in the wrong place."
Batman's black eyes narrowed, a memory stirring. "Wait," he growled, head cocked as if listening to a distant voice.
"The reservoir, you fool. The old one. Still connected. Tick tock."
TDK's voice, a sinister whisper in his mind. Batman's face, already scarred, twisted into a grim smile.
"I know where he is," he growled, already moving. "The old reservoir. It's still hooked into the water supply."
Barda arched an eyebrow. "How did—"
Batman cut her off. "Doesn't matter. Move. Now."
They raced across rooftops, a blur of black and barely contained power. Batman's mind raced; pieces fell into place.
He chuckled to himself, then, saying, "You should listen to me more often, George. I'm not just here for the scenery."
For once, Batman didn't quibble with the voice in his head. "Maybe you're right," he muttered. "Maybe I should trust you more."
"What was that?" Barda asked, easily keeping pace.
Batman's grin was all teeth and shadow. "Nothing. Let's go catch ourselves a Scarecrow."
* * *
The reservoir loomed before him like some half-ruined giant in Gotham's underbelly. Batman's black eyes scanned the area; all his muscles were coiled tight beneath his armor. Thugs swarmed like maggots on a corpse.
"Barda," he growled, low and dangerous. "Stay hidden."
The New God melted into the shadows without a word. Batman cracked his knuckles. Time to work.
He hit them with an impact like a demon from hell. The first thug went down with a sickening crunch, never knowing what hit him. The others turned, eyes wide with terror.
"It's the goddamn Batman!" one screamed, fumbling for his gun.
Too slow. Batman was among them, a whirlwind of precision violence. Lady Shiva's techniques flowed through him, each movement a deadly dance.
One's jaw was shattered by a roundhouse kick. Another had his windpipe crushed by an elbow. Then there was the one whose eardrum was ruptured by a palm strike. Dominoes.
"Jesus Christ!" another one of the thugs whimpered as he pissed himself, falling back.
All teeth and shadow with a grin, Batman replied, "Wrong answer," then finished it with a headbutt.
Moments later, it was all over. Sore bodies groaned against the ground. Batman stood slightly breathless but still massive, silhouetted against the bright full moon.
"It's not over yet but Brilliant, George," TDK whispered in his ear. "Now for the main event."
Batman's eyes set squarely upon the entrance to the reservoir. Inside was Scarecrow, vile and prepared for his poison to taint Gotham's lifeblood.
"Time to face your fears, doctor," snapped Batman, storming forward.
The bowels of the reservoir reeked of rust and fear. So much space for the dark to hide in, but Batman's black eyes saw it all, hair-triggered by every sense. His every sense was on high alert.
A voice, a raspy cackle, echoed off the damp walls.
"Hello, Batman. Ready to meet your monsters face-to-face?"
"Cut the shit, Crane," Batman snarled. "You're done poisoning my city."
A shadow flitted across his vision. Batman lunged, fist grazing empty air. Scarecrow's laughter echoed back at him from the dark.
"Too slow, Dark Knight. What are you afraid of?"
Batman's muscles coiled, ready to spring. "Nothing you can dish out, you scrawny fuck."
"Calm down, George," TDK whispered. "He's playing with you."
There was the glint of a tripwire in the moonlight; Batman vaulted over it, narrowly avoiding a spray of fear toxin.
"Oh, close, but can you dance all night?" Scarecrow says as he taunts him.
Batman's grin was feral. "Try me."
He twisted through a maze of traps, one more devious than the other—pressure plates, hidden nozzles, swinging blades—all dastardly placed, all missed with liquid grace.
"Impossible!" Scarecrow screeched. "No one's that good!"
Batman's laughter was deep, dark. "I ain't anyone at all, doc. I am your worst fucking nightmare."
He moved forward, relentless as the tide. Scarecrow's cocky façade crumbled, showing only fear.
"Stay back!" he cried, searching for his fear canister.
Batman's huge frame filled the doorway, black eyes gleaming with predatory intent. "Game over, Crane. Time to reap what you've sown."
The ultimate battle lay before them, a duel between fear and the embodiment of vengeance.
A mountain of muscle wrought upon shadow, Batman looked down at the spindly shape of Scarecrow. Scarecrow's eyes darted wildly, looking for an escape.
"Nowhere to run, doc," Batman growled darkly, his black eyes glinting with menace. "Time to face your own medicine."
Scarecrow's hand jerked up, the fear toxin dispenser pointed right at Batman's face. "Stay back, you freak!"
Batman moves like a cobra strike. One huge hand clamps around Scarecrow's wrist, crushing bone. The dispenser clatters to the floor.
"My toxin!" Crane wails. "You can't—"
Batman's fist connects with Scarecrow's jaw. Teeth fly. Blood spatters the concrete.
"Can't what?" Batman snarls. "Can't beat you? Can't scare you?" He lifts Crane by his throat. "I'm not afraid of anything, you scrawny piece of shit. Especially not you."
Scarecrow's eyes rolled back. He went limp in Batman's grasp.
"Well done, George," TDK's voice purred in his mind. "Perhaps there's hope for you yet."
Batman grunted, flinging Scarecrow's unconscious form over his shoulder. He tapped his comm. "Barda, stand down. Target's neutralized."
He walked away from the reservoir, cape swirling behind him. The grim skyline of Gotham stood before him, a challenge and a promise. Batman's scarred countenance twisted into a grin.
"One down," he muttered. "A whole fucking city to go."
* * *
The Batmobile growled to a stop there in the cave. George Wayne, in his suit of black and grey, reached up and yanked the cowl off his head. His scarred face twisted in a scowl, black eyes glinting in the dim light.
"Fuck," he muttered, running a hand through sweat-slicked hair. "That was too damn easy."
"You're disappointed, George?" TDK's voice echoed in his mind. "I thought you would savor the victory."
"Victory? Hardly much more than a warm-up," George grumbled, tearing off his armor. Scars crossed his muscled frame, each a tale of pain and victory.
He stomped towards the elevator, mind racing. With The Reading System, he had become unstoppable. Scarecrow's tricks were child's play now.
"Computer," he barked. "Analyze tonight's encounter. Find any weaknesses in my approach."
"Analysis, sir," the AI remarked. "No glaring faults detected. You were at your best."
George grunted. "As usual, you mean."
The elevator doors opened to Wayne Manor. Barda waited in the bedroom, her Amazonian frame filling the doorway.
"Trouble?" she asked, checking his expression.
"Just the opposite," George replied, brushing past her. "Scarecrow went down like a punk. Guess he just got lucky that first time."
Her lips quirked into a smirk. "Maybe you need a real challenge, Batman."
George's black eyes met hers and held. "Maybe I do, princess. Maybe I do."
He fell onto the bed, his massive form dwarfing it. Barda joined him, her warmth a stark contrast to the cold efficiency of the night's work.
"The Reading System," George mused out loud. "It's made everything too easy. Where's the fucking thrill?"
"Be careful what you wish for," Barda chided him & George muttered around the redoubt. TDK had to laugh. "There were always bigger fish."
George grumbled, his thoughts turned adrift as sleep finally seized him. In that he dreamed of Gotham consumed in fire, with himself standing atop the ashes. An appropriate challenge, if there ever was one; it was a true test of the monster he'd turned into.
As the night lengthened, Batman dreamed of chaos.
***
The sun blazed through the windows at Wayne Manor, casting long shadows on the walls of his study. George Wayne rose amidst the holographic display of the Watchtower, towering over its display, a colossus amongst the still figures, as Alfred, ever-present, flickered into view with a tray of steaming coffee.
"Perhaps a moment's rest?" Alfred's voice cut through the silence.
A flicker of TDK's influence glinted deep in George's black eyes as he turned toward the butler. "No time, Alfred. The Watchtower's not gonna build itself."
Barda burst into the room, her every inch spilling Amazonian presence across it. "Still obsessing, I see."
"It's not obsession, it's preparation," George growled, his fingers dancing over the hologram, reshaping some of the schematics with lightning precision.
"The League needs this. They just don't know it yet."
Barda crossed her arms, eyes on the display. "And you're so sure you know what's best?"
George's face, twisted by scars, was itself twisted now into a grim smile. "Sure as hell I do. Superman can play poster boy all he wants. When the shit hits the fan, they'll need more than a pretty face."
"Careful, George," TDK's voice whispered in his mind. "Don't show all your cards."
"Language, Master Wayne," Alfred chided gently.
George just ignored him, concentrating on the hologram. "Look at this weapons array. It'll make the Fortress of Solitude look like a fucking treehouse."
Barda leaned in, examining the specs. "Impressive. But do you think it will be enough?"
George grinned, all teeth and menace. "Trust me, princess. With what I've got planned, it'll be more than enough."
The hologram flickered, casting eerie shadows on George's face. At that moment, the line between Batman and the darkness within blurred.
"One year," he was muttering. "One year and we'll have a fortress in the stars."
* * *
The sun glared off the polished podium to cast harsh shadows across George Wayne's scarred face. His black eyes skimmed across the crowd—a sea of expectant faces; flashing cameras. The Reading System whispered data in his mind, analyzing every twitch, every micro-expression.
"Ladies and gentlemen," boomed out George's voice, a hint of the TDK's menace coloring the words, "today we stand on the precipice of a new era."
He waved behind him, where the hologram projected a building as Earth showed in orbit.
"The Watchtower, our eye in the sky, our fist against the darkness."
The crowd murmured with half breaths upon half breaths of awe and unease.
"Some of you may ask, 'Why? Why do we need this?' To that, I say: Look around. The world is changing. Threats are evolving. We need to evolve faster."
"Careful, George," murmured TDK's voice from nowhere; "don't scare the sheep too much."
George managed a smile with his mouth, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "But never fear. The Justice League is there: Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Flash, Aquaman, Martian Manhunter, and, uh, some others."
He lets the implications of that seep in.
"With Watchtower, we will have eyes on the four corners of the globe. Every potential threat. Every cry for help."
A reporter shouted from the crowd, "And who watches the watchmen, Mr. Wayne?"
George's black eyes locked onto the reporter, his gaze intense enough to make the man flinch.
"We do," he growled. "We watch each other. We hold each other accountable. And if we fail." His grin widened, revealing teeth that seemed almost too sharp. "Well, let's just say I have contingencies."
The crowd quieted, the mixture of awe and fear almost tangible within the air.
"The future is here, ladies and gentlemen. And it's watching you."
George stepped down from the podium, leaving the stage to the rising questions. As he went out, he heard TDK laughing inside his mind.
"Well played, George. You've given them hope. and just enough fear to keep them in line."
* * *
The sun dipped low, casting long shadows over Gotham's skyline. On top of Wayne Tower stood George Wayne, his massive frame silhouetted against the blood-red sky. The Reading System in his mind hummed lowly, bombarded with the goings-on of the city around him and its pulse.
"Mr. Wayne!" Vicki Vale's voice rang out in the brothers' direction. George's head turned slightly, black eyes locking onto hers. "A word?"
"Make it quick, Vale," he growled; the menace of TDK colored his tone even from earlier today.
Vicki stepped closer, unfazed. "That speech today. The Watchtower. People are talking. They're scared."
George's scarred face twisted into a grim smile. "Good. Fear keeps people sharp."
"But is that what Gotham needs? More fear?"
"Careful, George," TDK whispered. "She's fishing."
"What Gotham needs," George growled, "is a goddamn wake-up call. The world's changing. We need to change faster."
Vicki's eyes narrowed. "And you're the one to lead that change?"
George's form rose up above her, his musculature rippling beneath the suit. "Who the hell else?"
"That's what I want to know," Vicki pressed. "An exclusive. The real George Wayne. What do you say?"
George felt like it took forever before the scant response. The Reading System scanned Vicki's micro-expressions, her increasing heart rate, her breathing. Finally, he spoke. "Fine. Tomorrow. Wayne Manor. 8 PM sharp."
Her eyes flickered, then deepened. "I'll be there."
The reporter turned to go, and then he called out, "Vale." Her footsteps faltered. "Just don't be late. Because I abhor waiting."
Vicki nodded, taking a step back into the elevator. George turned back to the city, his black eyes searching the horizon. "An exclusive, huh?" TDK chuckled in his mind. "This should be fun."
George only answered with a low, menacing laugh that seemed to echo all over the Gothic skyline.
* * *
Shadows on the walls continued, as light from the sunrise continued to reach up on Wayne Manor. George Wayne sat on the other side of Vicki Vale, and the tension between them was tangible. The air hummed sweetly thick with a blend of interest and want after the exclusive interview.
"So that was the real George Wayne?" Vicki asked, unwavering, and a little closer to him than last time, looking at his scarred visage.
George's eyes were dark, feral, but there was a glint in them. "It's as real as it gets, Vale. You want the truth or not?"
Vicki barely managed to rein in a chuckle. "More than merely truth. Most of all, I want to know what makes you work."
He rose to his full height and looked down at her from above. "You're treading on dangerous ground. Be careful."
Vicki stared back at him unflinchingly. "Maybe I like a little danger."
TDK's words rang through his mind. "She knows what she wants."
He moved quickly, closing space between them and lowering his head just enough so they had a few inches of personal space between their faces. "And what is it that you want, Vicki?" He let his voice fall, lowering it to that menacing growl she had heard before, the one that sent her nerves afire.
"I want to uncover the man behind the mask," she replied, her heart racing.
At that, George caught her by the wrist, his face nearer, breath mingling with hers. "You may not like what you find."
Vicki tilted her chin in defiance, lips a thread away. "Try me."
He didn't say anything more but sealed the remaining distance, kissed her fiercely. It was hunter and hunted, raw and electric. Half-maddened, half-Vicki melted into him, egged on by how fiercely he kissed her back.
After they broke the kiss to breathe, Vicki whispered, "Is this part of the truth?"
George smirked. "It's part of the danger." His eyes flickered with a playful menace.
A moment passed, Vicki caressing the scar running down the side of his face. "You carry your pain like a badge," she observed softly.
"It's part of who I am. Embrace the darkness; you might find a way to survive it," said George, his voice now thick with unsaid desire and truth.
Vicki pulled him closer again, eyes glinting wickedly. "Show me how to survive."
George's answer was a low, rumbling laugh. "You really want to know?"
"More than anything," she breathed, leaning in once more.
With each brush of their lips, the walls between them crumbled, the thrill of the unknown—the seduction of finding out—promising. Shadows moved within Wayne Manor, silent onlookers to the beginning of a bond born of adversity and exploration.